Page 13 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Hmm,” he says, looking at me thoughtfully. Then he smiles. “I will.”

Something about the way he’s looking at me has me feeling a little too vulnerable and exposed, his gaze more perceptive than I know what to do with. So I mumble another comment about needing to get back to my desk, and hurry off.

But as I head back into work, I’m hit with a little rush of nerves. I was quick to brush off my mother’s and Tristan’s concerns about my upcoming trip, but the truth is that I’ve never done the long drive between here and New Hampshire by myself before, and I’m a little nervous about tackling it given the recent diagnosis I was given.

But then I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. Even if Wade couldn’t handle my illness, I can. I have to. I’m finally figuring out who I want to be, tasting a hint of freedom for the first time in twenty-six years, and I’m not about to let anything stop me from reinventing myself.

The trip will be fine. Everything will be fine. It has to be.

All I have to do is make it through Christmas.

4

LANA

I pullout a couple of sweaters that I never wear out here in California, a knot forming in my stomach as I carefully fold them and add them to the open suitcase on my bed.

“It’s just clothing, Lana,” I lecture myself, trying not to let myself dwell on the stifling feelings that heading home always brings up. There’s no denying that there are sections of my closet I only touch when I have to head back east, though.

I know how my parents expect me to present myself, and it’s just easier to go along with it than invite even more criticism. Of course, I’m sure they’ll find something wrong with my wardrobe anyway.

My phone pings with a text, and I grimace a little when I scoop it up and see that it’s from her.

“What, are you psychic now?” I mumble to myself as I swipe open the notification and tell my phone to read it to me.

VIVIAN: We think Oliver might be lactose intolerant, so please avoid milk chocolate if you’re bringing any treats for him. Dark is fine, though. Preferably at least 85% cocoa, for the antioxidant benefits.

I snort, shaking my head. My nephew is five. He doesn’t need antioxidants. He needs sugar.

But I just send back a thumbs up.

Of course Vivian can’t just leave it at that, though. She follows it up with a whole list of reminders and tips about what to bring and not bring. If I didn’t already know that she was slowly but surely turning into a clone of our mother, I’d almost think Mom hacked her phone and was pranking me. Not that our mother would ever stoop to doing something like that, of course. She has no problem just lecturing me herself.

My phone pings a few more times while I finish packing, but I’m sure it’s just more of the same, so I crank up some holiday music and sing along to try and push down my annoyance. Unlike me, Vivian has always seemed totally in line with our parents, living up to each and every one of their expectations with ease. I bet she’s actually looking forward to spending the holidays at our family home.

Not that I’m completely dreading it. I do love my family, even if it feels like I have to walk on eggshells around them to avoid doing the wrong thing. It will be nice to see Caleb, though. I don’t want to say I have a favorite sibling, but he’s the golden child for a reason. Everyone loves my older brother, including me.

Everything always seemed to come easy to Caleb when we were all growing up. Not only did he have this great group of friends, but he did well in school too. Not as well as with sports, though.

He’s always been athletic, and when his coaches started singling him out for his innate talent, my parents couldn’t have been prouder. They were happy to let his academics play second fiddle, and they love that he’s a professional hockey player now.

I just love that he’s living his dream. Even Vivian is, I suppose, since the sum total of her goals and aspirations seem to be becoming the perfect politician’s wife.

Not that her husband, Kyle, holds office, but he’s the son of the mayor and it couldn’t be any clearer that he’s being groomed to follow in those footsteps.

I pull out the red dress I’m planning on wearing to my parents’ annual party, biting back another sigh. It’s actually quite flattering on me, but now I can’t get my mother’s and sister’s comments out of my head.

No surprise. Unlike my siblings, I don’t think I’ve ever made our parents proud in my life.

I grimace. Well, maybe when I started dating Wade. And even if breaking up with him currently feels like the best thing that could have happened to me, I know that when I eventually have to confess it to my family, it will just be one more way that I disappoint them.

One more area of life where I lag behind my golden siblings and fail to live up to the Reeves’ family expectations.

“Annnnnd that’s enough of that,” I tell myself firmly, shaking out the dress and then carefully laying it out in my garment bag.

One visit home is not going to derail my quest to reinvent myself. I won’t let it. Even if I’ll never be exactly who my parents want me to be, I’m determined to become the personIwant to be.

Besides, I may not be as enthusiastic as I should be about home for the holidays, but I do love Christmas.

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