I stumble into the kitchen around ten-thirty the next morning. My mother is sitting down at the table, surrounded by an array of medication for her non-existent conditions, and swallowing pills like they're going out of style. After spending most of the night talking and connecting with Sarah, I should be exhausted – especially after that long, sleepless drive – but, I feel strangely invigorated. There's even a little spring in my step.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sarah chirps from the stove.

“Mornin',” I reply.

I walk over and give my mom a kiss on top of her head. She looks at me, her eyes wide, startled for a moment before a wide, warm smile spreads across her face.

“Good morning, dear,” she says. “I'm so happy you're here. Why didn't you call to tell us you were coming?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I really don't want to get into this again. I would rather not tell my mom any of it, truth be told.

“Oh, she did call,” Sarah interjects. “You were sleeping when she called, and I forgot to tell you. I'm sorry, Mom.”

She smiles. “Oh, that's fine,” she says. “I'm just glad you're here, Sasha. After what happened at Thanksgiving, I wasn't –”

“Let's just leave it in the past,” I say. “New starts for the holidays for all of us. Does that sound good to you?”

My mother smiles and it almost looks like she's going to cry. “That sounds wonderful.”

I give Sarah a grateful smile for intervening and covering for me and she gives me a nod in reply. I know she doesn’t like to lie, but that whopper came flying out of her mouth with ease. I have to say – I’m impressed.

Sarah places a plate stacked with pancakes on the table while I grab the plate heaped with bacon and set it down before quickly laying out plates and silverware for all of us. My mother puts all of her medication bottles back into her little box and puts it on the floor beneath the table. I pour myself a cup of coffee and fix it before taking my place at the table.

I look around, and for the first time in days, I feel a serene sense of calm. It might even be bordering on happiness. It's strange to me that I’m experiencing it at this table with my mother and sister of all people. I've rarely felt this calm or happy around the two of them – if ever. Maybe, this fresh start for Christmas thing is exactly what the three of us needed.

Of course, there is a dark, brooding undercurrent to my mood –everything that’s going on with Miles. Talking it all out with Sarah last night really helped me out. I’m no closer to finding answers to anything, of course, but just hearing it out loud, outside of my head, is tremendously useful.

What I know for certain is, no matter what, I'm going to be okay. I'll bounce back from this and land back on my own two feet soon enough. I'm a survivor. I've been through plenty of rough patches before – granted, I've never had a child on the way, and it won't be easy, but I'll manage to get through this. One way or another, I will handle this and be okay.

Sarah dishes up pancakes for all of us and we all dig in. The atmosphere at the table is light and cheery, and with Christmas music playing on the stereo on the counter, it's even somewhat festive. And, for the first time I can remember in my adult life, I don't mind a little festivity.

“So, Sasha,” my Mom starts, “is that handsome fiancé of yours in town? Is he coming by?”

I swallow down the mouthful of pancake and it hits my stomach with what feels like the force of a rock. My belly churns and my heart flutters nervously in my chest. It's a question I knew was coming and thought I was prepared for, but, hearing those words and experiencing the heartbreak for the millionth time, sucks.

Sarah and I exchange glances. We agreed last night to leave our mom in the dark about everything for as long as possible. There's no reason to upset her right now, so we thought it would be in her best interest to wait to announce that I've ended my “engagement” after the holidays.

We also decided to wait to announce my pregnancy. I really don't want to answer ten thousand questions when I don't have answers for myself just yet.

“Actually, he's not in town,” I say. “He's back in L.A. Working on some big case or something.”

“Over the holidays?” she asks.

I shrug. “Yeah, he's a little bit of a workaholic, that guy,” I say. “Said he wanted to get a jump on things, so he would be ready when it went to trial.”

She nods, but frowns. “That's kind of sad,” she says. “Thinking about him down there all by himself, alone, over Christmas.”

“Yeah, he's really dedicated to his job,” I say lamely.

“Well, I suppose that's a good thing,” she says. “At least he's not a shiftless deadbeat. Not like that one guy you dated back in high school. What was his name again?”

I laugh. “Most of the guys I dated in high school were shiftless deadbeats, Mom,” I say. “Sarah's the one who always dated the overachievers.”

“Hardly,” she says.

“Are you dating?” I ask. “Any potential prospects?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no,” she says. “Guys just aren't into me, I guess.”

“That’s just not true, dear,” Mom adds. “There's that one boy from the grocery store. What's his name? Kyle?”

“Please, Mom, I'm eating,” she says. “He's gross and creepy. He's also like twice my age.”

“Twice your age?” Mom asks.

“At least,” Sarah says, then turns to me. “She's always trying to hook me up with this guy. He's got a creepy porn mustache and always wears shirts that show off his massive bush of chest hair. All he needs is a giant gold medallion to complete the look.”

Our mother then proceeds to list off other guys Sarah should be interested in, all while Sarah gives me a rundown on why she wouldn't give a single one of them the time of day. Sarah and I laugh while our mother looks flabbergasted. Eventually, she also joins in the laughter. It's such a foreign sound within these walls – genuine laughter and merriment.

It does my heart good to hear it. It reminds me of the time I spent over at Miles' place. This kind of unfettered joy seemed to be commonplace over there. His family seems to all get along with each other really well. They love to laugh and rib one another and seem to really enjoy life.

That has never been the case in the Gates household. But, as I listen to us this morning, I have hope that, maybe, things can change. And that hope helps keep down the dark mood threatening to rise within me – along with other thoughts of Miles.

The doorbell rings, interrupting our laughter. I start to get up to answer it, but Sarah flies to her feet, patting her hand on my shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” she says.

I'm feeling really good right now. It's amazing, given the depths of despair I was wallowing in before walking through that door last night. Reconnecting with my sister really helped heal my heart and soul. And although the road with my mom will be a little bit longer, for the first time in a long time, I believe that we can get there.

I get up to pour myself another cup of decaf, casually glancing out the window to the front. When I see a familiar black SUV parked at the curb, my blood runs cold and I nearly drop the mug in my hand. I set it down on the counter and turn to my mom, my head spinning and my heart slamming against my chest.

Not wanting to give anything away, I give her a smile I hope doesn't look as fake as it feels. “I'll be right back,” I say. “I just want to get some socks. It's freezing today, huh?”

That part isn't a lie. December in Seattle doesn’t exactly feel like a tropical paradise. But I want to get to the door before Sarah does. She was so fired up last night after I told her everything, I'm afraid of what she might say or do to him.

I dash down the hallway, heading for the front of the house. Sarah has her hand on the knob and before I can call out to her, she starts to open it. I take a quick turn, ducking through the archway and into the living room. From where I'm standing, Sarah and I can see each other, but I can't be seen from the front door. Thank God.

“Miles,” Sarah says. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

I hear Miles laugh softly and motion to Sarah. She glances over, sees me standing there, but quickly turns back to him.

“Look, I know we didn't start off on the best foot,” he says, “but, I was hoping –”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she snaps. “You should probably just go now.”

I hear him sigh and there's a pause in the conversation. I can tell he's upset. Part of me wishes that he’s confused by the fact that I disappeared and haven't returned his calls. Of course, a small vindictive part of me hopes his eyes are still stinging from that blast of pepper spray.

I can't believe he's here. In hindsight, I probably should have realized he'd probably be in town for Christmas – although, the last time we talked, he hadn't committed one way or the other. I also should have taken his intelligence into consideration— he's definitely smart enough to check and see if I'm here or not. I'm reasonably sure he already dropped by the bar, the library, and my apartment looking for me. Miles is nothing if not persistent.

I should have had a cover story ready. But I wasn't planning that far ahead when I made the spontaneous drive up here. I wasn't exactly thinking at my best. All I can hope is that Sarah can manage to get rid of him.

“Is Sasha here?” Miles asks.

“What makes you think she'd come here?” Sarah shoots back.

“Is she here, Sarah?”

“Why do you want to know?”

I hear him sigh again and know he's probably growing frustrated. If there's one thing Miles hates, it's having a question answered with another question. For her part, Sarah seems to be enjoying crossing verbal swords with the man and antagonizing him to no end. I want to tell her to knock it off. Miles is quite possibly the smartest man I've ever been around and he's much more experienced at verbal sparring than she is.

I motion, trying to get her attention to make her knock it off, but she either doesn't see me or isn't paying attention. She's hyper focused on her exchange with Miles.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Miles asks.

“What have you done to make me like you?”

I can sense Miles' irritation from where I'm standing – or hiding, depending on your point of view. If there's one thing he's underestimated, it's Sarah's ability to get under your skin and really piss you off. She can get you so flustered and upset, you wind up saying something stupid and shooting yourself in the foot.

Personally, I think she's missing her calling – a career as a lawyer.

“Please, Sarah,” he says. “I really have to see Sasha. We need to talk.”

“I haven't seen her, but I can take a message for you, if you'd like.

“I need to talk to her right now, Sarah.”

“She doesn't want to talk to –”

Sarah bites back her words, but it's too late. She instantly realizes she said too much. It's the biggest reason I didn't want her playing these word games with Miles in the first place – he's far better at them than she is. I didn't want him knowing I was here at all. Now that he knows, he's going to return to his persistent, annoying self – which is the last thing I want or need.

Sarah cuts a quick glance at me and I see the apology flash through her eyes. She knows she made a huge misstep.

“So... she is here,” Miles says. “And she just doesn't want to talk to me.”

“You need to go now, Miles,” Sarah says.

“Please have her call me,” he replies. “This is life or death, Sarah. I need to talk to her.”

“You should just move on,” she says. “Really. You really messed up and she wants nothing to do with you. So – just get over yourself already.”

“Sasha, if you can hear me – and I'm pretty sure you can – I figured out why you're so pissed, and you have it all wrong,” he says. “You're totally off the mark, Sasha. You maced me for nothing. We need to talk. About a lot of things. I think you know what I mean. Call me, Sasha –”

“You need to go before I mace you myself,” Sarah snaps.

She slams the door in his face and quickly locks it. She turns and walks over to me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I'm so sorry, Sasha,” she says. “I didn't mean to blurt that out.”

I give her a squeeze. “It's okay,” I say. “No big deal. He knows I'm here – so what? It's not like he can make me see him or talk to him.”

“No, he can't,” she says. “And I have your back, sis. Whatever you need. We'll get through this together.”

I give her a smile and hug her tightly. “I really believe that,” I say. “Thank you, Sarah.”