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“I call the TV remote,” Mike said to Aria in the elevator. “There’s a sweet ultimate fighting match on tonight.”
“Whatever,” Aria said wearily. At this point, she’d watch any of Mike’s stupid shows—getting away from Byron and Meredith in their own room was reward enough. “I get first pick of the minibar.”
“Byron, hurry!” Meredith urged from farther up the hall as Byron fumbled through his pockets. She turned around and clutched her belly, her face sheet-white. “I think I’m going to puke again.”
“Okay, okay.” Byron shoved a key into a room and opened the door. Meredith darted inside, slammed the bathroom door, and more disgusting noises commenced.
Byron strode into the little hallway for the room and put his hands on his hips. “Well, this looks lovely.”
“What about our room?” Aria asked.
Byron cocked his head. “This is your room.”
Aria stared at it. Slowly, the realization swept over her. “We’re all staying in a room together?” She’d assumed that since Meredith was along, Byron would have changed the reservation.
Byron blinked. “Honey, this place is really expensive. And anyway, the resort was fully booked.” He flicked on the lights, revealing two big rooms, a kitchenette, and the closed door to the bathroom. Meredith let out a weak cough from inside. “This is a suite—you guys can have your own space if you sleep on the pullout couch in the living area.”
A cramp squeezed Aria’s stomach. A pullout couch wasn’t good enough. She’d still be able to hear Byron and pregnant Meredith through the door.
She felt like a geyser about to blow. This was her time with her dad. Her time to bond. Didn’t Byron understand that? Didn’t he know how hard the past few months had been? He could have told Meredith not to come. He could have decided, just this once, that Aria and Mike came first.
“I have to go,” she blurted. She grabbed her canvas bag from the luggage cart and started out the door.
“Go where?” Byron called after her. But Aria didn’t turn back. She stormed down the hall, pushed through the stairwell, and clomped down to the oak-paneled lobby. A woman was playing “Jingle Bells” on the baby grand piano in the corner. People were drinking free cider from a carafe by the front desk. Kids were making angels in the freshly fallen snow. It was a beautiful place, and Aria wanted nothing more than to stay, but she knew that she absolutely, positively couldn’t.
She was getting the hell out of there.
Chapter 3
Another Surprise
Aria’s cell phone said 9:57 P.M. when the bus pulled into the Rosewood Greyhound station parking lot. Feeling groggy and grimy, she staggered down the stairs, grabbed her luggage from the undercarriage compartment, and darted around the snowdrifts toward her old friend, Emily Fields, whom she’d called and asked to pick her up. She took out her cell phone again.
Back in Rosewood, safe and sound, she wrote to Byron. Have fun tomorrow.
After Aria had marched out of the shared room at the lodge, Byron had followed her to the lobby and tried to cajole her into staying. But Aria had stood her ground. With a heavy heart, Byron had driven her to catch the next bus to Rosewood. Before she’d boarded, he’d placed his hand on her shoulder and given her a meaningful look. Aria had thought he was going to tell her something profound. Or apologize.
“Don’t forget to slather butter on the front door of Mom’s house,” he’d said instead. “Otherwise, you won’t be protected from spirits for the rest of the year.”
Snow began to fall as Aria slid into Emily’s waiting car. “Thanks for coming to get me,” Aria said.
“Of course.” Emily eased her car out of the station and started down Lancaster Avenue. “But are you sure you don’t want to stay at my house? Won’t you be lonely spending the holiday by yourself?”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Aria answered. Emily was dropping her at Ella’s—there was no way she was going to stay at her dad and Meredith’s creaky apartment in Old Hollis. “And honestly, after everything that’s happened, maybe I just need a little time to myself.”
There was barely any traffic, and every stoplight in Rosewood was green. Emily sped past Rosewood’s main drag, the Hollis campus, and the turnoff for Alison DiLaurentis’s old street, reaching Aria’s mom’s house in record time. Hers was the only property on the block that wasn’t aglow with Christmas decorations. It looked like a missing tooth in a mouth of pearly whites.
After saying bye to Emily, Aria unlocked the front door and dropped her bags in the foyer. The only noises in the house were the soft hum of the refrigerator and the hiss of air through the radiator pipes. When she looked out the window, the snow had already left a dusting on the front lawn. According to weather reports, they were supposed to get a foot by tomorrow morning.
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” Aria sang softly. Her voice echoed in the empty room, filling her with regret. What was she going to do with herself for the next few days, knocking around this big house all by herself? What was she going to make for Christmas dinner—frozen organic macaroni and cheese? Maybe she should have brought Mike with her—but he hadn’t seemed that bummed out to be with Byron and Meredith. He’d probably spend the next few days skiing, snowboarding, ice fishing, and skeet shooting.
She trudged upstairs and flopped down on her bed, knocking a book to the floor. It was her well-loved sketch journal. She grabbed it, feeling a discomfited prickle. She was almost positive she’d left the sketchbook on the desk, not the bed. Had Ella moved it before she went to Sweden? Had someone else been in here?
