Page 3 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
I stiffened. “That’s not funny.” Neither wasHolli-daysorHolly Jollyor the myriad horrid nicknames I was labeled with growing up. Kids could be cruel—even at Christmas.
“You’re right. It’s not.” Now his tone held genuine apology. “But this could be a good thing for you. Let me guess, they used the wordlayoff?”
“Downsized.”
“That was my next guess.” More clacking, followed by a few mouse clicks. “Sorry, I’m trying to finish this holiday jewelry ad before I leave for lunch.”
“Letmeguess. Something about five golden rings?”
“All right, Scrooge, what’s really going on?”
“Just a bad day.” I scuffed my knockoff UGG boot against the tiled floor. I was having a pity party for one, a party I didn’t even want to attend. But it was hard to un-RSVP. I kept picturing my boss’s face as she leaned across the desk, eyes sympathetic but firm.Downsized.
Sort of like my plans for the new year. So much for shopping for a new apartment. I was now gifted with figuring out how to pay rent on the one I had.
“You’re really bummed about this job thing, aren’t you?” Annoying Big Brother had turned into Protective Big Brother.
“I just…” I briefly closed my eyes. This was so embarrassing, but it was Ryan. “I thought I was going to get promoted.”
“Ouch.”Clack, clack.“That’s awkward.”
“To put it mildly.”
A little girl wearing a faded pink jacket, at least one size too small, skipped past the window, her unmittened hand clutched by a woman wearing thin leggings and no coat at all. It had to be thirty-something degrees outside. The girl gazed longingly into the coffee shop, but her mom tugged her along with a slight shake of her head.
I shouldered my phone and fished in my coin purse. All I had was a ten.
“Ryan, hang on.” I dropped my cell into my purse, call still connected, and pushed open the door. “Ma’am?”
The woman turned on the sidewalk to face me, bagged eyes wary. The little girl stepped behind her leg. “Yes?”
“I’d love to treat you and your daughter to a hot chocolate.” I held out the bill, then gestured behind me to the warm store. “If you’d like.”
She looked down at her daughter, whose eyes pleaded. Then the woman slowly accepted the cash. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
I only nodded, holding the door for them as they walked inside and joined the line. Then I returned to the napkin station and my call. “I’m back.”
“Right.”Clack, clack.“So, you were saying…bad day?”
“Yeah…but apparently not as bad as it could be.” I took a deep breath. “What wereyousaying? You asked earlier if I’d heard? Heard what?”
“Heard I was coming home for Christmas.”
Piper joined me then, both our coffees in hand. I accepted mine, mouthing,Thank you.
“I hadn’t heard.” I scooted out of the way for Piper to grab a napkin.
“You’ll be there, right?”
I hesitated. I had been debating the trip, dreading the big 3-0. It’d be much easier to handle my family forgetting my birthday long-distance than in person. Plus, I wasn’t sure I was up for the endless questions from my well-meaning sisters about my relationship status (still single) or my job (what job?) or my haircut (let them try taming curls in this humidity) or pant size (one higher than last Christmas) or anything else they loved to give advice on.
But with my recent job situation, going home for a week or two meant I could save on utilities—and groceries. “Maybe.”
“Well, plan on it. I don’t think anyone else in the Sinclair crew can make it this year, so it’ll probably just be us and Mom and Dad. We can’t let them be alone.”
I hated obligation almost as much as I hated pity, but I really loved that Ryan thought of me and him as a team. Not that I would let him know that.
Besides, if it wasn’t thewholefamily, that’d be a lot less pressure. Fewer questions. “Do you think Mom is still going to have that annual neighborhood block party?”
