Blake is gone when I wake. Sure enough, Lizzy is on the couch with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, watching The Matrix: Revolutions.

"I'm shocked that Blake has cereal," she says. "It's normal for him."

"He's very normal."

"Neither are you, so it works." She finishes her coffee with a long sip. "I hope you cleaned this couch after the last time you made sweet, sweet love on it."

My cheeks flush. I always wipe off the couch after sex. Can't ruin the gorgeous apartment.

"Have you always been such a pervert?" I fix myself a cup of coffee and stay in the kitchen.

"Mm-hmm."

"You need to shower before we go shopping, or do you want to leave when I'm done with my drink?"

"Are you using his credit card?"

"No."

"Good." She stands up, stretching her arms over her head. "I don't want any of his money."

"You drank that soda he bought pretty fast."

"Thirst got the best of me."

* * *

We take the subway to Thirty-Fourth Street and spend the morning at Macy's. It's packed to the brim. The shelves are picked over. None of that bothers Lizzy. She pushes past anyone in her way, honing in on deeply discounted winter clothing.

Lunch is more pizza. I consider lecturing her about healthy eating but decide against it. She hasn't gained any of the Freshman Fifteen and she looks perfectly healthy—clear skin, shiny hair, muscle tone in her shoulders. That car accident did a number on her back. She has to exercise aggressively to keep it in check.

After lunch, it's back to shopping. We stop in a dozen different boutiques. She buys a scarf for Blake. It has a reference to a TV show I've never heard of, but she's certain he'll love it. She even buys something for Fiona. It's a fairly generic gift, a bottle of gingerbread scented lotion, but it's something.

The pizza isn't providing me with the steady energy I need for this. By three, the excess carbs has me in a major crash. It doesn't help that I skipped breakfast.

I stop in a cafe for a coffee and a salad.

Lizzy eyes my snack with distaste. "You lost weight. At least five pounds."

"How can you possibly notice that I lost five pounds?"

"You admit it."

"I started running again."

"Around the park?" She sighs wistfully. "Must be nice having it across the street."

"You can stay with me and Blake if you want."

"Stay with my sister and her fiancé? There's no way that will be awkward. Or that I would be a painfully unwanted third wheel."

"Awkward, maybe. But I… wait. You're not going to leave school, are you?"

She sips her vanilla latte. "That's my decision, you know."

My stomach drops. "Are you?"

She makes eye contact, fierce and unwilling to back down. "No. But if I want to, I will. And don't even think about offering me any of Blake's money to go to school in New York. Or his scholarship. That is so unethical—"

"What about the money from renting Mom and Dad's apartment? I don't need it—"

"I'm not taking your money."

I squeeze my fork. "It's our money."

"Not. Taking. It. Offer it a million times, but it's not happening." She runs her finger over the plastic lid. "You've given up a lot to help me already. I can't take anything else."

That's not how it is, but I know better than to argue with her. If she doesn't want help, fine. I'll find a way to help without her realizing it.

She steals a grape tomato. "It's possible I'll be in New York next year. An internship here."

"What Blake was talking about yesterday?"

She nods. "But I don't want his help getting it. All he did was point out the application."

At this point, she's being obscenely defensive. I open my mouth to object.

She cuts me off. "Did you want his help getting into Columbia?"

"Okay. Fair. I won't offer you anything. Not even a bite of my salad." I stab a piece of lettuce with my fork.

"You have any more shopping to do?"

"One place."

She raises her eyebrow.

"You'll see."

We chat about nothing while I finish my salad.

Outside, the sky is blue and the sun is shining. Midtown is gorgeous—a mix of tall buildings and frosted parks.

I turn over Blake's words in my head. There's a chance he won't be there when I wake up tomorrow, that I'll spend the entire day alone.

Lizzy isn't going to take this well.

I take a deep breath, adopting my most it's totally okay voice. "Blake might not be here tomorrow."

She clears her throat.

"He might have an emergency meeting."

"Either he has a family you don't know about or you're lying to cover something up." She doesn't waver. "Should I spend the last of my shopping money to buy you a clue?"

"He has a lot of bad associations with the holiday."

She scoffs. "And?"

"His dad was abusive, Lizzy. That doesn't heal overnight."

"Are you happy with him?"

"Yes."

"Good." Her voice gets serious. "But that's a load of crap. He can't bail on Christmas because he has a few bad memories."

I turn on Thirty-Sixth Street. The light is red and cars are whizzing by the avenue.

Lizzy taps her toe. "He can use all his sweet words or his beautiful money, but that doesn't matter. What he does matters."

"You've never been in a relationship." The light turns green and I step into the street.

She follows. "I understand. He says he loves you. He promises the world. Then he leaves on Christmas." She walks in front of me. "Anything I'm missing?"

"No." Deep down, I believe he'll be there tomorrow. I believe he'll do this for me. But what if he can't?

"If he hates it so much, how did you get him to put up a tree?" She steps onto the sidewalk, racing into the shade. "Actually, don't tell me. Those details will scar me for life."

She's kidding, but what if she's right? He only put up the tree after we had sex. Doubt passes through me. He was doing that for me, because I was hurting. There's no way I convinced him to put up the tree, not by screwing him.

"Do you think about anything besides sex or computers?"

She shakes her head. "You promise he's treating you okay?"

"Better than okay. He's amazing."

She stops to lean against a concrete wall. "And it's not just…" Her eyes find mine. "Don't take this the wrong way, because you're the least materialistic person I know, but are you sure it's not his money?"

"Yes."

"Or his amazing cock. I only assume it's amazing, but—"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Because I wouldn't blame you. Marry the billionaire, live the lux life, draw whatever your heart desires. You deserve the break, but you're better than lying to yourself."

"I'm not with Blake for his money." No way am I discussing the latter point.

"How do you know?"

"I don't love when he spends money on me. I love when he washes my hair, when he makes me breakfast, when he holds me all night."

"In his ten-million-dollar penthouse apartment."

"It could be anywhere."

She pushes off the wall, waiting for directions. I nod to the avenue in front of us.

She walks quickly. "Does he really wash your hair?"

"It's nice."

Lizzy finishes her drink and tosses it toward a trash can. It misses.

She kneels down to pick it up. Her expression strains as she stands, like her back is bothering her again. "Thank you for not adding 'when he makes me come like a waterfall.'"

"Where do you come up with this?"

The lingerie shop is around the corner. It's cozy with pink walls, red carpet, and oodles of adorable underwear.

I scan the walls. "Are you having sex?"

"Not regularly." She says it casually.

I know my sister. She's taunting me on purpose. No way am I taking the bait.

"As long as you're safe." I move to the next row. "When you say regularly—"

"There was only one guy in California." She folds her arms. "One guy, one time. It was nice. I used a condom. I don't expect I'll ever see him again."

"Great." Not great. I take a deep breath but my chest feels tight. My sister is nineteen. She's going to have sex. It's normal behavior.

"Doesn't bother you at all."

"Of course not." I grab a pink bra and panty set. "Just like it doesn't bother you hearing about my sex life."

She sticks her tongue out. "That's different. I'm disgusted by the details. You want me to be your innocent baby sister."

I admit nothing.

"I'm going to wait outside. I love you, Kat, but I don't want to picture you in lingerie. And I really don't want to picture Blake— Ugh." She groans like she can't avoid a mental picture. "You have twenty minutes until I get bored of my smart phone."

The bell rings as she leaves the store. I turn back to the wall, all my attention focused on finding the perfect piece of lingerie.

It has to drive Blake out of his mind and hint at the holiday spirit. A positive association with Christmas.

Of course, there's a chance that it will keep him from touching me, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

There. I find a red bra and panty set. It's peekaboo style. I try the bra on in the dressing room.

When I check my reflection, I gasp. The red band lifts my breasts. It stops a few inches below my nipple. The straps make a triangle-shaped outline. It does nothing to limit access to my breasts. Blake won't even have to remove it.

A rush of heat passes through me. I'm sexy and ready to be touched.

Hopefully, I'll get to make use of the feeling.