When 17-year-old Rosalie’s stepmom, Susan, sabotages her Christmas by secretly canceling her flight, Rosalie is devastated.
But karma has other plans.
A series of ironic twists and turns leaves Susan stranded, humiliated, and exposed for her manipulation… ensuring that her Christmas is far from perfect.
Last Christmas was supposed to be perfect.
But life’s not perfect, is it? Especially when you have to deal with a stepmom who really doesn’t care about you.
I’m Rosalie, and I’m seventeen, and let me tell you about the nightmare that was my Christmas.
Two years ago, after a pretty seamless divorce, my dad got married to Susan.
And let’s just say that we didn’t hit it off as well as he would have hoped.
From the moment she entered my life, Susan made it clear that I wasn’t part of the perfect blended family she had envisioned.
“Rosalie is too much like her mother, Rob. What did you expect? That we’d hit it off perfectly and be the new mother-daughter duo around?
That girl is stubborn to the core.”
At least she had that right.
Since then, I had moved to a tiny apartment about twelve hours away from my dad. At first, he hadn’t wanted me to leave, but Susan had gotten her way in the end. She also wanted me gone.
I wasn’t complaining.
I mean, I was closer to my mom in any case, the school I was enrolled in was so much better than my previous one, and the building I lived in belonged to my dad’s aunt.
So, she was constantly checking in on me, bringing casseroles of food and baked treats.
Rent was covered, and between my monthly allowances from my parents and the part-time job I had at the local spa, I was sorted. I was thriving on my own.
Then, Dad invited me to spend Christmas with them, and for once, I was hopeful.
Mom was away at a retreat in Tibet, and I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holidays alone.
I booked my flight early, because the thought of driving twelve hours made me feel nauseous. My gifts were all wrapped and secured in my bag. I even packed an extra bottle of my dad’s favorite whiskey.
“Rosalie, please explain why you want me to buy a bottle of whiskey for you,” Aunt Maureen said.
“It’s for Dad!
It’s for Christmas, not for me, I promise! I’m just underage and can’t exactly buy it myself.”
She allowed it and bought it for me, wrapping the bottle in thick brown paper too.
“Here you go,” she said, coming into my apartment. “The bottle better be sealed when you get home to your dad.”
She chuckled, left a tray of brownies, and headed out.
The countdown to Christmas felt like forever, until Susan showed up at my apartment, claiming that she was on a business trip and needed a place to crash.
“Rosalie,” she said, lugging her bags through the door.
“I need a place for a few days. I’m here on business, not for fun. You continue to study for school or do whatever you need to do.
Just make sure that the coffee machine is always filled, and I’ll sort myself out.”
Now, I live in a small one-bedroom apartment, so her staying over was awkward. But what was I supposed to do? Say no?
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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