Chapter One

“Bah humbug,” Winter grumbled and immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t Christmas’s fault that she was miserable.

No, that blame belonged solely to the woman whose existence had upended Winter’s entire life. Here it was, the first day of December—a day normally reserved for revelry in the form of tree trimming, light stringing, and general holiday décor merriment—but rather than adorning her home with all the glorious trappings of the season, she was lingering in bed, hiding from the world and contemplating life as a hermit.

“And now she’s ruined Christmas for me, too,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow she’d pulled over her face in the middle of the night, as if she could hide from her thoughts. She’d been desperate to silence her entirely unhelpful internal monologue but, failing that, had half hoped to suffocate herself enough to nod off. It hadn’t quieted her restless mind any, but it had proved an enticing spot for her kitten to doze.

Had they progressed further in their bonding by this point, Winter might have dislodged the slumbering kitten. This early in their relationship, however, she felt she still needed to prove herself to Cloris, and ejecting her from atop her plush personal mattress would do little to advance Winter’s cause. Sighing, she stretched her arms and legs, careful not to jostle Cloris’s pedestal.

She refused to open her eyes and face the world, not that she would see much beyond the festive turkeys strutting across her flannel pillowcase. She had so much work to do and no drive to do it. She was already behind by almost a week, and clearly, hiding under her covers wouldn’t help her accomplish anything. Resigned to making something of her day, she gingerly groped the top of her pillow, cringing when her hand touched something moist.

“Dear god, I hope that was your nose.” A querulous meow was the kitten’s only reply. “That wasn’t very reassuring,” Winter groaned, and wiped her hand on the pillowcase. She had to wash the bedding anyway now that it was time to ditch the turkeys for Santa and snowmen. Or maybe prancing reindeer would put her more in the holiday mood.

Either way, she had to get herself out of bed without disturbing the now purring tiny ball of black fluff whose mercurial sweetness, coupled with a somewhat unconventional interpretation of cuddling, put her already flagging motivation at a severe disadvantage. If she forcibly removed Cloris, the young cat might rebuff Winter, who balked at a repeat of the cold shoulder she’d received following the Tampon Incident of early November. The ostracism seemed especially unfair given that Winter hadn’t exactly enjoyed prying a bloody wad of cotton from Cloris’s razor-sharp claws, nor had she relished the subsequent babyproofing of her bathroom garbage can while her kitten threw shade at her.

That Cloris was now sleeping with Winter, in an undoubtedly adorable, albeit unorthodox, fashion, showed real progress in their relationship, progress she didn’t want to jeopardize. But she couldn’t lie here all day, no matter how enticing the thought. If she could somehow climb out of bed while preserving Cloris’s cozy perch, she stood a real chance of maintaining their current level of affection with the added bonus of feeling like she’d accomplished something that day.

“Challenge accepted,” she said and began scooting herself lower in the bed.

Once she’d inched far enough from the headboard, she delicately slid the pillow off her head, holding her breath until she was certain that both pillow and kitten were safely settled on the bed. Unfortunately, by then her pajama bottoms had burrowed deep into crevices better left vacant, and she had also managed to truss her legs in the chaos of her sheets.

As she tugged and kicked simultaneously, hoping to extract her feet from their flannel prison, she reconsidered the merits of tucking her sheets in—it wasn’t as if anyone would be seeing her bed anytime soon, and clearly it was a hazard. On the plus side, after this workout, she could skip the gym today. With one final thrust, she liberated her entire body from both the bedding and the bed and landed on the floor with a thud, bruised but triumphant.

Before she could savor her victory, however, Cloris rose, flaunted her lithe agility with a near-acrobatic stretch, and hopped to the floor at Winter’s feet, essentially rendering her protracted battle with her bedding moot. The kitten meowed and pawed Winter’s leg before strutting out of the room, undoubtedly on a path toward the kitchen. She paused at the door to toss another plaintive cry over her shoulder. Winter had no choice but to follow.

Most people, Winter assumed, would simply empty the contents of a can of cat food on a plate and consider that a job well done. But presentation was everything, and a can-shaped blob of brown pâté on a plate hardly qualified as appetizing. True, Cloris had yet to notice the array of feline-themed plates chosen specifically for her dining experience, nor did she appreciate any of the garnishes that Winter had adorned her meals with, but not for lack of trying. And at least the kitten had played with the parsley before drowning it in her water.

“Where should we start?” she asked, one eye on the painfully sluggish drip of her coffee maker.

In any other year, just the anticipation of the impending holiday season would be more than enough to perk her up and fuel her day—she might savor a cup of hot cocoa as she began the days-long process of transforming her home into a holiday haven that Santa himself would envy, but it was more festive treat than required jolt. Cloris briefly glanced up from her mackerel and sardines in lobster consommé and blinked. “You’re right. Just dive in.”

She told Alexa to play holiday music throughout the house—and only had to correct her twice—then made her way to the Christmas closet. She considered that it was perhaps excessive to devote an entire walk-in closet to one holiday. On the other hand, if she continued accumulating Christmas keepsakes and curios, she might have to invest in an addition to house her collection. The sound of sleigh bells brought an unconscious smile to her face, a smile that dimmed noticeably as the voice of pop superstar Meadow Lane filled her ears with Christmas cheer and painful reminders.

Cloris wound around her legs then tapped the closet door, reminding Winter to focus on the present. Ready to get this over with, she grabbed the first bin she saw and, after removing Cloris from the garland in which she’d managed to swathe herself, she placed the box on her dining room table, establishing it as Christmas Central. Once she’d divested the box of its jolly assemblage of elves and reindeer, trees and bells, holly and wreaths, it became the winter residence of her everyday décor. She cleaned her home as she went, telling Cloris about each piece as she carefully positioned it on the shelf it occupied every December.

Halfway through the first carton of Christmas curios, her breath caught when she picked up the origami reindeer from Avery. True, it looked more like a misshapen owl than any kind of festive ruminant, but she’d loved it so much when Avery gave it to her, she looked past its unique appearance. She’d forgotten it was hiding on her bookshelf, and seeing it again brought back a flood of memories that she had no desire to revisit. Without comment, she dropped it in the box and closed the lid, earning a reproachful meow from Cloris.

“I don’t need attitude from you right now, missy.”

But the kitten had already embarked upon a round of fervent ablutions, her concern over Winter’s heartache apparently a thing of the past. Thankfully, the ping of an incoming text saved her from a one-sided argument with her kitten.

It’s a good day to hang lights. You supply the ladder. I’ll bring the nog?

Gabe had been her self-appointed helper elf for the past six years. It wouldn’t be Christmas without his peevish assistance.

I think I’m going to skip Christmas this year, she answered, though she didn’t completely feel that way.

Blasphemer! he replied. You just need some extra holiday cheer to get you out of your funk. We’ll swing by this afternoon.

Fair warning—I’m not very jolly.

That’s different how? You haven’t been jolly since Avery left.

“Maybe that’s because she broke my heart and ruined my favorite time of year,” she said and pocketed her phone. She scooped up her box of everyday decorations and headed back to the Christmas closet, resigned to make some holiday headway before Gabe and Noah showed up. In spite of herself, she pulled the paper reindeer out of the box again. “It is still kind of cute.” She sighed as she set it on her nightstand, a semi welcome token of a trying year.

“If only I hadn’t run into her.”