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on the stove and faced her, leaning back against the counter.

“I don’t really know what happened… We had been getting closer all week, and we stayed up late that night, and then we just…we were kissing, and then her stupid phone rang and everything went to hell.” She had wondered more than once what might have happened if Camila’s phone hadn’t gone off—how far they might have gone, if she might have woken up in Camila’s bed the next morning instead of on the couch alone.

Wondered if Camila would have pushed her away anyway, and wondered if she should be thankful that they hadn’t gone further.

“She said it was a mistake and that it could never happen again because she wasn’t interested in me like that.” She looked at her hands folded in her lap and willed herself not to cry. “And then she walked away and didn’t look at me again until I was about to go look for you and Cassie. She told me not to come back to work until January.”

“Oh, Emily.” Maia wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her so tight it was hard to breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least I know where I stand this time, right?” Her voice quivered and moisture filled her eyes. Maia leaned back, wiping away the tears before they fell.

“She doesn’t deserve you,” she said fiercely. “If she can’t see how amazing you are, then she’s an idiot.”

“Thanks.” She was relieved when her stomach rumbled—she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Maia moved away and turned back to the stove. “Could you, um, tell Cassie? I really don’t want to relive it again.”

“Of course.”

Upstairs a door opened, followed by footsteps as Sarah and Cassie came downstairs.

“The smell of food must have lured them out,” Maia said with a grin, and Emily jumped off the counter to set the table.

“Thanks for making breakfast, babe.” Cassie said, kissing Maia on her cheek and accepting a plate of food.

“No problem.” Maia looked at Emily. “It was either that or leave your sister to burn down the kitchen, so really, I had no choice.”

“Rude.”

Maia stuck out her tongue, and Emily grinned. This was exactly what she needed—to be surrounded by her family.

* * *

Christmas morning, Camila woke up with Jaime’s face inches from her own. He had apparently snuck into her bed in the night.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Camila said, rubbing a hand over her eyes. She glanced at the time—Christmas and his birthday were the only days he woke up before her.

“Merry Christmas,” he said brightly. He seemed happier than he had since they returned from London.

Ever since they had arrived, Jaime had been grumpy and some days barely spoke to her. Maybe today would be the turning point and they could get back to normal.

“Is it presents time yet?” he asked, buzzing with excitement, but Camila needed coffee first.

“After breakfast,” she said. “Do you want pancakes?”

“Okay.” He followed Camila as she made her way to the kitchen. The rising sun shone brightly through the beach house window. “Emily makes good pancakes,” Jaime said offhandedly. Camila almost dropped the pan.

“Does she?” Camila asked. She kept her back to Jaime so he couldn’t see how shaken she was. She had tried so hard not to think about her, about the pain in her eyes or how she had walked away zombie-like that day.

“Yeah.” Jaime’s eyes were vacant when she turned around, and Camila hated that it was because of her. She was supposed to protect him, she wasn’t supposed to fall for Emily, sure as hell wasn’t supposed to act on it. “I miss her.”

“You’ll see her soon.”

“It feels like a long time, though,” Jaime muttered. He was still angry with her for giving Emily a few extra days off, but she thought that both of them needed the reprieve. She certainly did. She needed time to put her walls back in place so that she wouldn’t break down the second Emily looked at her.

Camila gathered the ingredients for pancake batter, still thinking about when she would see Emily again. She dreaded the moment but knew there was no point in dwelling on it, that it would only make her crazy, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering how it would be when their paths crossed again.

Because she didn’t know how she was going to react. She had tried before to keep Emily at arm’s length, but the second they had been alone together in London she cracked, somehow convincing herself that it was different there, that it wouldn’t count, that whatever happened wouldn’t matter once they got home.

“Presents now?” Jaime asked the second he finished his pancakes. She let him take her hand and drag her over to where presents were scattered under the tree.

He gleefully tore the paper off his gifts, his face brighter than Camila had seen it in days, and she recorded a few videos to watch later when she needed cheering up.

“Do you like it?” Camila asked. He sat in a pile of wrapping paper, playing with his new Batmobile.

“Yeah!” He tore himself away to disappear under the tree and emerged with a bag that Camila hadn’t noticed was there. Jaime dropped it in front of her.

“This is from Emily.” He looked more cheerful than ever, and it stung to know that Emily was the reason for it.

Emily had quickly won him over, and now Camila wondered if they were too attached. She dreaded to think what it might do to him when she left to go back to college or left for another reason.

Camila assumed that both presents were for Jaime, but he handed one to her. She ran a fingertip over the tag with Emily’s writing, her throat tight.

Emily had given Jaime his very own sketch pad and art supplies. Camila took a picture as he opened it, knowing Emily would want to see.

She opened her present with trembling fingers, tearing off the paper to reveal a black folder. Inside was a collection of

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