“You know it’s not good for your baby,” Mamá said. “Besides, if we add too much rum, no one will be able to stay awake for mass.”
“If Father Joseph is doing the homily, no one will stay awake, regardless of how much they’ve had to drink,” Isabella grumbled. “That dude is ancient.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Father Randy will lead the mass.” Camila grinned. “He’s easy on the eyes.”
“Isn’t he, though?” Isabella said.
“Hush, you two. Enough blasphemy.” Mamá ladled a small serving of punch into a mug and handed it to Rosie. “You try it.”
She took a small sip, delighting in the soothing warmth and the mingled flavors of cinnamon, cloves, and hibiscus. “It’s good, but it could use a teeny bit more booze.”
“You see!” Isabella said. “She agrees with me.”
“Do you think it needs any more fruit?” Camila asked.
“Maybe some extra orange slices?” Rosie said. “Those are my favorite.”
“Fine.” Mamá plucked two oranges out of the fruit bowl and handed them to her, along with a knife and a cutting board. “You add them.”
As Rosie sliced the oranges, Isabella uncapped the rum bottle and poured a hefty dose into the bowl. When she was done stirring, she took Rosie’s mug and ladled out another serving. “Try it again.”
Rosie sipped it. “Perfect. Now I can taste the rum, but it’s not too overpowering.” She divvied up the orange slices between the two bowls, then put the cutting board and knife in the dishwasher. “Má, do you need help with anything else?”
“I’m good, thanks. Where’s Drew?” Mamá made a show of looking around the kitchen, as though she expected him to pop out of the pantry. “Is he coming separately?”
Damn.Rosie had hoped for a few more minutes of relaxed conversation before facing the firing squad. “He’s not coming. We…um…broke up. Two days ago.”
“Already? Rosie!” There was no mistaking the accusation in Mamá’s voice. “But why? He was so nice. So thoughtful. What did you do to make him leave?”
Rosie tossed back the rest of her punch, then scooped another serving into her mug. If she was going to endure her mom’s questions, she might as well fortify herself. “What makes you thinkIdid anything?”
“Because I know you,” Mamá snapped. “You work too much. All those hours at the Duchess. Evenings and weekends. Didn’t I say you’re too obsessed with your job? How are you ever going to find a husband if you can’t make time for anything except that hotel?”
“You need to get your priorities straight,” Isabella said. “If your job is the only thing you care about, you’ll never have a shot at love.”
Rosie ground her teeth in frustration. “It’s not just about me. Come January, my whole team could be out of work if we don’t meet our boss’s expectations. I don’t want them to end up unemployed.”
But Mamá wasn’t buying it. “They’re single, too, right? This is what happens when women your age let their careers take precedence over everything else. Poor Drew probably got tired of always coming in second.”
Usually, Rosie let the criticism roll over her. But if it hadn’t been for her mom’s incessant nagging, she wouldn’t have agreed to Drew’s scheme in the first place. And she wouldn’t be facing Christmas Eve feeling heartbroken. If she wanted her family to understand her better, she needed to be completely honest.
“Our breakup wasn’t about my job,” she said. “We ended things because I was done pretending.”
“Pretending?” Isabella demanded. “What are you talking about?”
Rosie’s face flamed as she struggled to get the words out. “My relationship with Drew…wasn’t real. It was just for show.”
Mamá braced her hands on the kitchen island, as though the shock had physically wounded her. “Ay, Rosalina. Why would you do that? Why lie to me and everyone else?”
Tears welled up in Rosie’s eyes. She’d never meant to cause her mother grief. But now that her secret was out, she needed to explain why she’d resorted to such desperate measures.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I lied because I’m tired of all the pressure. It’s bad enough that I’m struggling to keep my job, but every time I come over, you criticize me for being single. Like I’m not enough, no matter what I do, just because I haven’t found a husband. It makes me feel pathetic.”
“You have to admit thatpretendingto have a boyfriend is pretty pathetic,” Isabella said.
Rosie glared at her. “Part of the reason I did it was to help Drew. It started because of his ex, who’s also an instructor at Northlife Fitness. Back when they were dating, she cheated on him withherex—who’d just gotten hired as Drew’s supervisor.”
“Poor Drew,” Isabella said. “That had to be way humiliating.”
