Page 102 of Christmas Criminal

I only vaguely register the sound of the front door shutting. A car coming to life in the driveway.

I glance around, searching for Nick, and realize he's gone.

My stomach churns as I reach for my phone and text him.

Noelle

Did you leave? Are you okay?

He starts typing back almost immediately.

Saint Nick

All is good. Just have to take care of something real quick. I'll be back soon.

He starts typing again. And then stops. And starts again.

Saint Nick

I can't even tell you how happy I am to be spending Christmas with you and your family. I'll be back as soon as I can.

I let out a long sigh, turning my attention back to the girls, who are thankfully now tearing into the piles at their feet without any prompting. Behind them, Harriet's tears are subsiding as Christina pours her an oversized glass of wine and holds it to her lips like she'd feeding a baby with a bottle.

Another Christmas, another drama-fest.

Christmases in the past haven't been quitethiswild, but I'm relieved that for once, it's not Christina crying into her drink.

Naomi and Cassidy bounce off each other, their moods rising as they unwrap one downright hilarious present after another.

I can't help but think back to what Christina said the other day, that my shitty dad and a bad high school experience is whatled me to run away, to be angry enough to throw eggs at his house, and ultimately led me to Nick.

I hate thinking about things that way–everything is meant for a reason,blah blah blah–but there's something begrudgingly nice about this. Having two teenagers around to unwrap presents and cackle over the crazy things my mom has decided to give us for the holiday.

I hate everything that led us here. I hate that Harriet is crying and my half-sisters are as angry as I am. I hate that my sister's leg is broken and my mom is tending to a crying woman instead of her new beau.

But this, I don't hate. Sitting in front of the tree with family I didn't really choose, but Idid, in some roundabout way.

When all is said and done, I might even admit to appreciating this holiday.

Chaos included.

When Harriet'stears have subsided, the sevenof us gather around the Christmas tree, distributing out presents haphazardly because half of them are now going to people whose names are not the ones scribbled into the wrapping paper.

As my mom lands on one with Nick's name, she glances around, realizing he's gone. She looks at me, brow furrowed. "Where's Nick?"

I swallow. "He said he had to take care of something."

Her eyes narrow. "On Christmas?"

I shrug.

Hank sighs. "Fuck."

My mom glances at him as he scrambles up from the floor, slapping his thighs and grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. "I'll be right back."

"Where areyougoing?" Helen asks.

He shakes his head. "Don't you worry about me. You girls do your best to enjoy the rest of Christmas. I'll be back soon."

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