Holiday with You - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,4

“I’ll send you some new pics later tonight.”

Even though I miss the city—having everything within walking distance and being able to order takeout at three o’clock in the morning if I was in the mood—the move was the best thing for Perry and me. My marriage fell completely apart when Remi figured out she didn’t want a family anymore. I was barely hanging on juggling the business and a child. My daughter and I needed to get away from the toxicity of Remi. To have support.

Now we get to have more time together. Life slowed down. Once Perry’s in bed, the house is quiet. Possibly too quiet at times.

“That would be great. I just wanted to let you know we sent over some presents,” Oliver says. “Make sure to take some pictures for me so I can share with everyone.”

“Thank you, man. If I’m fast enough, I’ll record it so you can watch her. Thinking we’ll try to come visit you early next year.”

“Bring my girl or don’t come, okay?”

“She wouldn’t forgive me if I went to visit Uncle Olie without her.”

After I hang up, I start thinking about whether we have enough food at home for when the blizzard blows in. I wasn’t a lazy husband who left everything to his working wife, but the solo act of planning meals each day while working scattered hours around preschool and pickups and a small person was never something I saw for my future. Life in Winter Valley is just . . . different. It’s not Remi. There’s no lost love for her. She did us a favor if I’m honest. But I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m not feeling settled. In control.

Chapter Three

Audrey

The security line is longer than the line outside Walmart on Black Friday.

I get searched because my clothes are too baggy and, according to the X-ray, I might be hiding drugs. The only contraband I’m carrying is a box of peppermint Oreos, and it’s secured in my carry-on bag.

Thirty minutes later, I’m at the gate, staring at an electronic board that reads in red bold letters: Flight A362 to Denver delayed.

I’m debating whether to spend seventy-five dollars to stay in the airline VIP lounge or just hang out around the airport until we leave. My evil boss makes the decision for me when she videoconferences me with the people in Malaga. A call she conveniently forgot to mention.

She doesn’t give me time to put makeup on or change out of my unicorn onesie pajamas.

What would be ridiculous and unfair? If I met some handsome hot suit in this lounge, and I lose my chance to find real love because I look like a washed-out crazy woman.

Not that I’m looking for a man. Love isn’t permanent, and there’s no point wasting my time with it. Some people in the videoconference room shake with laughter. I’m pretty sure they were able to see the hoodie of my onesie while I was running to the lounge. It’s impossible to ignore a flying horn dangling on my back.

After paying, finding a place where I can set up my laptop, and popping in my earbuds, I finally pay attention to the meeting and try my best to seem qualified for my job. God, I’m never going to be able to visit the Malaga resort, am I?

They’ll remember me as the woman wearing a costume, not the compliance and marketing manager. This is what I get for wanting to be comfortable during my flight and the drive from the airport to Winter Valley.

When our call is over, I receive a text from Aurora.

Crazy Boss Diva: Next time you travel, dress professionally. Also, buy a jacket that doesn’t look like you’re wearing a plushy. It’s tacky.

Clearly, she’s never worn a onesie. I might spend three-quarters of my life at work, but I try to have fun with my clothes when I’m off the clock. I should buy her a demon onesie for Christmas. The black will match her soul.

The plane doesn’t board until noon. At two thirty, I’m in front of baggage claim, regretting checking my bags.

They lost them.

My snow boots and most of the dressy winter clothes I own were packed in those, so I’m relieved when one of my bags appears. Thirty minutes later, I’m filing a claim because the other bag is nowhere to be found.

Though I planned for cold weather, I’m not ready to drive in the middle of a storm. Even driving twenty miles per hour, the