epilogue: laurel

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One Year Later

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One Year Later

This Christmas is just us. If my mom or Annie's parents want to drop in just to say hi, they're welcome, but we're not entertaining and they won't be catered for. I felt mean when I made that rule last month, when I put my foot down and said no, that I want to spend the day with Annie and the children, but I've been trying out advocating for myself and it feels good.

Annie's parents were completely understanding because of course they were. They're incredibly kind and generous people and I love them, and I know I'm so lucky to have them in my life, but I can't be a hostess again and I don't want to go to anyone else's house. I want to stay here. I want to plant myself on the sofa with Annie by my side and a Christmas movie on TV as we watch the kids open gifts, as we devolve into raucous games without having to be on guard.

My mom was less understanding. There is no surprise there. She didn't understand when I said that I want to relax, that I can't relax when she's around, that I can still love her and not want to spend Christmas with her. Our relationship has been marginally better since I've seen less of her, since I haven't needed to rely on her as a babysitter, but Annie's right. A leopard cannot change its spots and when it comes to leopards, it's best to keep at a safe distance because when they turn on you, you might not make it out alive.

So this Christmas will be a quiet one. Just us. I breathe a sigh of relief at the thought. Annie looks over at the sound, her head tilted. A dollop of cake batter falls from the spatula in her hand onto the kitchen floor.

"That was a heavy sigh," she says. Hannah takes the spatula off her to finish scraping the batter into a cake tin. Ava, standing on a stool next to her, dips her finger into the mix when she thinks no-one is watching. She's so absorbed in helping with the Christmas Eve baking that I don't think she's spotted me in the corner.

"A happy sigh," I correct, flexing my socked feet against the floor to rock the chair I'm sitting in. "Just thinking about tomorrow."

"Glad no-one's joining us?" Annie asks with a smile. Strands of hair are falling out of her messy bun, her rosy cheeks spattered with flour and cocoa powder.

"Very glad."

Hannah finishes licking the spatula. "I love seeing Grandma and Granny and Grampa, but yeah, we can see them after Christmas. I think it's nice that it's just us," she says. She has fully adopted Annie's parents as an extra set of grandparents, in addition to Nanny and Pops on her dad's side. The girl's a magpie, collecting as much family as she can.

"Isn't this nice?" Annie says. "Girls' day!"

"And Otto!" Ava cries out. "Where is he?"

"He'll be back soon, hon, he went to see his girlfriend," I say. That's another person Hannah has welcomed into the family fold, treating Madison like an extra sister in the two years she and Otto have been dating.

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