My parents said, “We’re doing a small Christmas — just close family.” The next morning, I saw photos: 38 people. Even my ex was there. – Full Article

Without makeup, wrapped in a robe, she looked smaller somehow. Her eyes were swollen from either crying or anger.

Possibly both.

“Emily,” she breathed, reaching for my arm. “Thank God. Fix it.”

Not I’m sorry.

Not We hurt you.

Fix it.

I stepped back before she could touch me. “Why was Ryan here?”

Something shifted across her face. Just briefly, but enough.

“He stopped by,” she answered carefully.

“For Christmas dinner with thirty-eight people?”

My father appeared behind her. “Don’t start drama on the porch.”

“That’s interesting,” I replied. “Considering apparently I wasn’t invited inside.”