Kai’s sprawled on the couch, looking healthier than he did two days ago, color back in his face. He’s drinking sparkling cider from a champagne flute and complaining about it.
“This tastes like sadness,” he announces when I walk in.
“That’s what not drinking feels like,” I tell him.
“It’s terrible. I hate it.”
Samantha emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of appetizers, and I notice she’s wearing a dark green dress that shows off her growing baby bump. Still barely there, but noticeable.
“Stop complaining about the cider,” she says, setting the tray on the coffee table. “I have to drink it too, and at least you’re alive to complain.”
“Good point.” Kai raises his glass. “To being alive and miserable.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dad says, walking in with an actual bottle of champagne. He pops the cork with practiced ease and pours a glass for me, then one for himself.
We settle into the living room, and for the first time in weeks, the atmosphere feels light. Easy. Like we can finally breathe without waiting for the next disaster.
Dinner is casual. We order in from the resort restaurant instead of having the chef prepare something elaborate. Pizza, pasta, and too much garlic bread. Kai steals food off Samantha’s plate, and she retaliates by taking his last slice of pizza.
“That was mine,” he protests.
“You took my breadstick.”
“That was fair game.”
“How is stealing my food fair game?”
Dad watches them bicker with the kind of amusement that says he’s not going to intervene. I pour myself more champagne and wonder when our family dynamic became this chaotic and domestic at the same time.
After dinner, we move back to the living room. Samantha curls up on the couch with a book, but she’s not really reading. Just holding it while listening to Kai tell some story about a ski trip that went sideways three years ago.
“And then the avalanche warning went off,” Kai’s saying, “and I’m standing there thinking, well, this is how I die.”
“But you didn’t die,” Samantha points out.
“Obviously. I’m sitting here drinking sad cider and telling you about it.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“I skied faster.” He grins. “Outran the avalanche, made it to the lodge, and Dad grounded me for a month.”
“Two months,” Dad corrects from his chair. “And you snuck out after three weeks.”
“Details.”
I check my watch. Eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes until midnight.
“Should we go outside?” Samantha asks, closing her book. “For the fireworks?”
“It’s freezing,” Kai says.
“We have a balcony.” I stand and offer Samantha my hand. “Come on. We can watch from there.”
She takes my hand, and I help her up. The four of us bundle into coats and head to the balcony that overlooks the valley. The main resort is lit up in the distance, and I can see guests gathering outside for the countdown.
The cold bites immediately, but Samantha doesn’t complain. She leans against the railing between Dad and me while Kai stands on my other side, hands shoved in his pockets.
“One minute,” Dad says, checking his phone.
