"Dad, next Christmas, can Talia sit in Mom's seat?" I stood in the doorway of my in-laws' living room and listened as Peyton, the daughter I had raised for eighteen years, asked my husband that question. Derek laughed. "That depends on whether your mom is willing to give it up." Everyone laughed. Everyone except me. Talia sat beside Derek, her pregnant belly prominent beneath her red knit dress. Derek's hand rested on her stomach while Peyton knelt beside the couch, pressing her ear against it. "He kicked me again!" Peyton cried excitedly. My son, Cole, raised his phone and took a picture of them. My mother-in-law, Loretta, smiled. "Now this is what Christmas with family should look like." I glanced down at my phone. At four that afternoon, Derek had texted me: [Honey, I can't get out of this business dinner tonight. Don't wait up for me.] Cole had said there was a problem with his startup. Peyton had said she was meeting friends from college. Loretta had told me Warren wasn't feeling well and didn't want to celebrate this year. So I had wrapped up work early, bought Warren's favorite lemon cake, and driven over. Now the elderly man who was supposedly confined to bed sat beside the fireplace, holding a glass of champagne. The cake box slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Derek spun around. "Blair?" He immediately snatched his hand away from Talia's stomach. "What are you doing here?" I looked at him. "Am I interrupting something?" No one answered. Peyton stood, the smile vanishing from her face. "Mom, we were going to tell you later." "Tell me what?" Talia braced a hand on the couch and stood. "Blair, I'm so sorry." "Who is the father?" Derek walked toward me. "I am." I stared at his face. "How long?" "Five months." Five months. Last month had been our twelfth wedding anniversary. That night, he had given me a diamond necklace and told me that meeting me eighteen years ago was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him. Apparently, when he said those words, my best friend was already four months pregnant with his child. "So you're all here today to celebrate her pregnancy?" Derek frowned. "It's Christmas, Blair. We just wanted everyone to sit down and enjoy a nice meal together." "Everyone?" I looked at Cole. "You knew too?" Cole lowered his phone. "Mom, this has already been hard enough on Dad. Can't you at least hear him out?" I barely recognized the man standing in front of me. When he had pneumonia at five years old, I spent six nights beside him in the hospital. When his startup failed last year, I helped him revise his business plan and connected him with his first potential investors. Now he stood beside his father and asked me to be understanding about how difficult this was for him. "When did you find out?" Cole didn't answer. I turned to Peyton. She was holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. The lid wasn't fully closed, and I could see a white mug inside. It read: Best Mom Ever. I remembered that mug. Last week, Peyton had asked me what Talia's favorite color was. I had thoughtfully told her Talia loved white. I had helped my daughter choose a gift for another mother with my own hands. "Peyton." My voice trembled. "Is that for her too?" Peyton clutched the box tighter. "Talia's pregnancy has been really hard. I just wanted to make her feel better." "Did you ever stop to think about how I would feel when I saw all of this?" Her eyes turned red. "Mom, don't do this. It's not like we don't want you anymore." I looked at her. "Then why did you just ask your father whether she could sit in my seat next year?" Peyton bit her lip. "Because she's going to have a baby. Do you expect him to be born without a real family?" Before I could answer, Talia suddenly clutched her stomach. "Derek, I don't feel well." Derek immediately turned and caught her arm. "Where does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Talia shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't want Blair to be this upset." Derek looked up at me. "That's enough, Blair. She's pregnant. Do you have to push her right now?" I froze. "I'm pushing her?" "I know you're hurt, but the baby is innocent." "What about me?" Derek fell silent. I took a step toward him. "Derek, I'm asking you. What about me?" Loretta set down her wineglass with an impatient click. "Blair, you're forty-three years old. You should know better than the children. Talia is carrying Whitaker blood. We are not turning our backs on one of our own." "So all of you decided to lie to me?" "We only wanted to wait until the baby was safely delivered. Then we could sit down and discuss everything with you." I looked at Warren. "You told me this afternoon not to worry about your health." He avoided my eyes. "Your mother-in-law was afraid you wouldn't be able to handle it." I suddenly understood that every lie they had told me today served the same purpose. They wanted to celebrate this baby in peace, without me there to spoil it. Derek helped Talia sit down before finally looking at me again. "Blair, go home for now. Once she's feeling better, I'll come back and explain everything." "You want me to go home alone?" "I can't leave her right now." "It's Christmas." "I know!" He raised his voice. "But she's carrying my child. Can't you be understanding for once?" I looked at Cole and Peyton. Cole stared down at his phone. Peyton went to Talia's side and handed her a glass of warm water. Not one of them came to me. Eighteen years ago, when the children first called me Mom, Derek had held me and said he had finally given them a complete family. I had believed they were my family too. Now I looked at the Christmas stocking embroidered with "Baby Whitaker" hanging in the center of the mantel. I turned and headed for the front door. Behind me, Peyton's irritated voice rang out. "Blair, do you have to ruin Christmas for everyone?" My hand stopped on the doorknob. It was the first time all night that she hadn't called me Mom. I didn't turn around. Just before the door closed, I heard Derek murmur soothingly to Talia, "Don't cry. She just needs some time. She won't really leave us." Standing on the freezing front steps, I finally understood something. They hadn't forgotten to invite me to Christmas. They had simply decided long ago that no matter how badly they hurt me, I would always stay.