She cocks her head. “It’s the holidays. Plus everyone is just so excited you’re here.”

My forehead scrunches up. “They aren’t here to see me.”

Nonna gives me a soft smile. “Well, of course they are. This is a real treat to have you here, all to ourselves.”

Aunt Lisa puts her arm around me and gives me a kiss on my forehead. “ ’Morning, Sophie. I hear last night’s date was interesting.”

I grimace. “I’m not sure interesting is the right word for it.”

Uncle Sal and his group take up almost the whole table. Not only is he the oldest sibling, he and Aunt Camille have the most kids, with five. They also have the most animals, since Aunt Camille has never met a stray she didn’t adopt. Charlie pops in a few minutes later with Sara right on his heels. They pull up extra chairs and wedge themselves in the few open spaces at the table.

I throw a couple of cinnamon rolls on a plate and drag one of the stools closer to the table. “So where am I going to find an ugly sweater for the party tonight?” I ask Charlie.

“Make one. And seriously, the uglier the better. I’ve got a side bet with Olivia that my date’s going to be better than hers.”

Sara nudges him in the side. “I’ll get in on that bet. I’ve got tomorrow and I know my date’s going to make your date look like Aunt Patrice planned it.”

I let out a groan. “I guess everyone knows about last night?”

“Yeah, we all got the picture, too. How old was he? Twelve?” Uncle Sal asks.

I shoot daggers at Charlie. “I guess you sent that picture to everyone?”

He holds his hands up in front of him. “I couldn’t help it! Once I started I couldn’t stop.”

“Is there no privacy in this family?”

Everyone at the table answers, “No.”

Charlie turns to his sister. “Why do you think your date is going to be better than mine? You’re fifteen. What do you know about dating?”

“I’m good just as long as there are no farm animals,” I say. “Or babies.”

Sara gives us a smug smile. “You’ll see. It’s going to be awesome.”

Aunt Patrice, Uncle Ronnie, and the boys burst through the back door, Patrice’s eyes searching the room for me.

Once she finds me, she barrels through the crowd.

“The Nativity was ruined once you left. It all just…fell apart. Harold was so depressed you left that he didn’t want to be Joseph anymore. The goats got sick and threw up on everything. Baby Jesus just cried and cried.”

Olivia sneaks in during Aunt Patrice’s outburst and drops down in the seat next to me, nudging me under the table.

“I’m really sorry, Aunt Patrice,” I say with the most sincere voice I can muster.

Her frown persists. “I know you still haven’t gotten over Dave, but that’s still no reason to ruin everyone’s fun.”

“Griffin,” Charlie says.

“Who’s Griffin?” she asks.

“The guy Sophie can’t get over,” he answers.

I throw a piece of cinnamon roll at him.

Aunt Patrice looks confused. “Then who’s Dave?”

Charlie shrugs. “I have no idea.”

Aunt Patrice finally walks away, still pondering who Dave is. At least she’s not chewing me out anymore.

Uncle Michael walks in and says, “The new sheet is up.”

This dating thing has turned into something like the NBA finals. Apparently Nonna got wind yesterday that my uncles, a few of my aunts, and some of my older cousins are betting on what time I get home from my date. Their basic strategy is to weigh who picked the date, what the activity is, and how long they think I can put up with him. All bets have to be finalized by the time I get in my date’s vehicle.

Nonna acts like she’s annoyed, but I suspect she’s in on it. How else would they know what time I walk through the door?

“So there’s an actual sheet where you can place a bet now?” I ask Olivia.

“Yes. The group message was getting out of control.”

“How many people are in the group? And why can’t I be in it?”

Olivia’s mouth forms a weird grimace. “Pretty much everyone. I wanted to add you, but Graham said the only way to keep the competition pure was to make sure you weren’t influenced by the bets. Then Uncle Ronnie hijacked it with pics of his dog, so Charlie made another group text without him where we took a vote to see if we should kick him out. In the end, Uncle Michael decided to make a betting sheet.”

Banks, Uncle Sal’s son, leans forward and says, “It’s like one of those betting squares you do for the Super Bowl.”

I look at Olivia. “This has gotten out of control.”

She nods toward Uncle Sal. “I mean, I didn’t know if he even knew how to text, and then he was blowing my phone up.”

Uncle Sal laughs. “I’m glad we’ve moved on to the sheets. I couldn’t take one more picture of Ronnie’s dog licking his butt.”

My phone vibrates on the table and I turn it over. My heart skips when I see Griffin’s name there. It’s like he knew we were just talking about him.

Charlie turns up behind me and glances at the screen. “Oh no. No jackasses on my day.” He tries to grab the phone, but I hold it just out of reach.

I scoot back in my chair and swipe open his message. It’s a picture of me with Seth and Olivia and Drew from my first date. We’re all huddled together in front of a giant cardboard snowman. The picture was taken right after our snowball fight.

GRIFFIN: Someone sent me this. This guy you’re with posted it and said “Hoping all of her other dates suck”

Before I can even think of a response, Griffin sends another text.

GRIFFIN: I guess I didn’t expect you to go on a date so soon. I know I screwed up. And I’m sorry. It kills me to see you with this guy

“Hell no,” Charlie says from over my shoulder. He succeeds in taking my phone this time. “He’s not going to lay some guilt trip on you when he was the one who wanted to break up.”

Charlie starts tapping something on my phone. I try to snatch it back.

“What are you saying?” My shrill voice echoes through the kitchen, but no one gives me more than a glance.

“I’m telling him what you should have days ago.”

By the time Charlie gives me back the phone, I know his message has been sent. And when I read over what he wrote, my cheeks get pink with embarrassment. Charlie was very descriptive about what Griffin should stick into certain body parts.

I’m staring at my phone when Nonna pushes me toward the hall. “Go get dressed. You’re riding to the shop with me, since Olivia has some stuff to do for her mother this morning. We’ll stop at the store and see if we can find you something to wear tonight.”

Most of the family scatters from the kitchen once they’re done eating. Charlie stops at the back door and hollers, “Be ready at six thirty!”

I’m still staring at my phone by the time I enter the guest room, but not surprisingly, Griffin doesn’t respond.

***

Nonna and I are on the way to the store when Mom calls.

“Hey, sweetie, how are you? I guess you survived your date last night?” she says. I can tell she’s trying to be upbeat, but she sounds tired. And worried.

“It was horrible, but what else would you expect from Aunt Patrice? How’s Margot?”

Mom’s quiet on the other end. “She’s okay. Hanging in there.”

I try to speak, but it feels like something is lodged in my throat. Finally, I ask, “What’s going on? What are you not telling me?”

“Well, her blood pressure is a little higher than the doctor would like, and then there’s the swelling. She’s having a few contractions, but they’re giving her some magnesium, so that should take care of that. No need to worry! We’re all keeping a close eye on her!”

Mom sounds overly enthusiastic, which makes me doubt her. “Is she going to be okay? Is the baby?”

“Yes, honey. They’re both okay. Are you? If I need to, I can put an end to this blind date thing. I hate to think you’re up there miserable.”

Gah, the last thing I want any of them to worry about is me. “No. It’s fine. It’s a good distraction. I keep telling myself this is going to make for a good story later.”

Mom lets out a soft laugh. “Well, we love you. Very much.”

“Love y’all, too. Tell Margot to text me if she feels up to it.”

“I will, sweetie. She’s sleeping right now, but I know she loves hearing what’s going on with you. She got the biggest kick out of that picture Charlie sent her last night.”

At least there was some good that came out of that.

We say our good-byes, and I hang up just as we pull into the parking lot.

“How bad is it?” Nonna asks.

“Huh?” I ask, scrunching up my forehead.

“Margot and the baby. Your mother acts like I didn’t have eight children of my own. She thinks I’m too fragile to know what’s happening down there.”

I sigh. “Her blood pressure is too high and the swelling is bad. Some contractions, but they’re trying to stop them.”

Nonna nods. “Well, good. It’s amazing what those doctors can do! I know everything will be just fine!”

And now I see where Mom gets her fake enthusiasm.

We wander through the store and head to the craft section, debating what we need to make the tackiest sweater ever. Nonna found an old red sweater in her drawer this morning, so all we need are decorations.

She holds up a package of silver tinsel. “How about this? We could hot-glue it down the arms of the sweater.”

Oh God.

She sees the look on my face. “Sophie, the key here is tacky.”

I nod and she starts throwing everything from bows to colored pipe cleaners to fuzzy cotton ball — looking things into the basket. She’s got a twinkle in her eye. “When I’m done with this sweater, there’s no way you won’t win.”