“He didn’t say anything wrong.” Mia’s gaze met Wyatt’s in a silent apology before shifting back to Andie. “I just have a ton of grading left to do before I go home. I didn’t mean to stay this long, but I’m glad I got to see you before I left.”
“Me too.” Andie got to her feet and gave Mia a hug. “I’ll see you after Christmas.”
“Sure.” Mia muttered into her hair.
Turning, she made her way through the crowd, walking faster and faster, desperate to get back to her empty, silent apartment.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Predictably, Mia’s Christmas holiday was turning out to be a big, fat bust.
Her mother’s house felt even more empty and lonely than usual. Holly was so busy between her advertising job and her current boyfriend—the infamous Noah, who had indeed matured into a perfectly respectable adult—that Mia had been left largely to her own devices while her mother worked her usual long shifts at the hospital.
Mia had gone to dinner once with Holly and Noah, after which she’d admitted to her sister that she’d been wrong about him and taken back every mean word she’d said.
Remembering the things she’d said about Noah inevitably caused a fresh surge of guilt over her terrible last fight with Josh. She’d hoped to forget him while she was home, but instead the hollow in her chest only seemed to grow larger.
Wyatt’s words had haunted her ever since the Christmas fair. She’d thought she was minimizing Josh’s pain by letting him go now. But what if Wyatt was right and she’d already waited too long? What if sooner wasn’t any better than later, and she’d given up their last months together for nothing?
Mia wondered how Josh was coping with his parents’ visit, and if he was managing to enjoy his holidays more than she was. At least three times a day she took out her phone to text Andie and ask how Josh was, but so far she’d managed to talk herself out of it every time.
The annual Ballentine family Christmas Eve was even more excruciating than usual. She and Holly always spent the evening with their father, who always hosted a party for his fifty closest friends and business associates. Traditionally, he gave his daughters fifteen distracted minutes of his time before the party to exchange gifts, then more or less ignored them the rest of the night in favor of mingling with his guests.
This year, however, he’d practically handcuffed himself to Mia, parading her around so he could boast about her upcoming paper in the Annals. She spent the whole night smiling and nodding at people she didn’t know, largely left out of the conversation yet unable to excuse herself from it. Meanwhile, Holly was left alone to shoot Mia smirking looks while she guzzled martinis.
Christmas Day had been pleasant enough, at least. Her mother actually had the whole day off, and she and Holly and Mia had spent it on the couch watching their favorite holiday movies and eating the takeout holiday meal her mother had ordered in advance. Mia had even told her mom a little about Josh and about their breakup, and her mother had given her a sympathetic hug and handed her another cookie.
But now Mia was back at her father’s ostentatiously decorated apartment for the photo session he’d set up for her, followed by an interview with a writer from New York magazine. As she struggled to maintain a pleasant expression under her thick layer of makeup, she was reminded why she’d chosen to go to graduate school on the opposite coast from her father.
While she acknowledged the practicality of having professional headshots taken, she’d had to grit her teeth all morning as her father issued instructions to the photographer, offered “helpful” suggestions on everything from the wardrobe to the lighting, and criticized Mia’s smile for being too strained. It had left her in a sour mood for the interview that followed.
The interview that turned out to be the last straw.
As she sat there listening to her father take credit for her interest in math as an excuse to ramble endlessly about himself—during an interview that was ostensibly meant to be about her accomplishments—Mia began to reevaluate her willingness to go along with the rest of his plans.
Who was she kidding? She hated this shit.
She’d gotten a taste of it before, when she’d been applying to college. At first she’d been thrilled that her father actually wanted to escort