“Merry Christmas, Aunt Jessica!” Tyler had run over to her with his arms out for a hug.

She’d pushed him away—not roughly, but firmly enough that he’d looked confused and hurt. “Not now, Tyler.”

That should have been my first real warning sign. Jessica had always been a bit cold, a bit judgmental about my divorce, but she’d never been mean to the kids before. Never.

My mother and I had exchanged that silent look mothers and daughters share when they both sense trouble brewing but don’t want to make a scene. “Why don’t we start with the gifts?” my mother suggested, her voice artificially bright.