Christmas break should have been joyful during late December. Instead, it felt like we were all pretending everything was fine while a timer counted down in the background.
Eight months. That's all we had left before everything changed.
"We should tell your family," I said one morning, watching Kai stare at his acceptance letter for probably the hundredth time.
"I know. I just I don't want to deal with everyone's reactions yet."
"It's Christmas Eve tomorrow. They're going to ask about your plans for next year."
"Can't we just lie?"
"To your extended family? At a Rodriguez Christmas dinner? They'll smell the lie before we even sit down."
He groaned. "Your family is terrifying."
"Our family. And yes, they are."
We'd been invited to Tía Carmen's house for the traditional Rodriguez Christmas Eve celebration which meant fifty-plus relatives, enough food to feed an army, and approximately zero personal boundaries.
