Page 109 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“I have my own company?” I ask Sam as Older Me sets her laptop and the phone on the table and picks up the drink. She stares into the fire, an annoyed grimace scrunching her too-tight face.
“You do, you started it after you left Northlight. You didn’t like how they treated you over what happened at Holly’s, so youstayed for another year, but you butted heads with everyone at the office and felt you could do better starting your own firm.”
“And Avery?” I ask.
“What about her?”
“I was talking to someone named Madison. That means Avery didn’t come with me?”
Sam shakes his head. “You continued to push her away, didn’t show up to her wedding, sent your new assistant with a gift in your place. She finally stopped trying to be your friend after that. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak.”
“I didwhat?” I ask. I may be a workaholic, but—
“You did.”
“What about Tim?” I probably shouldn’t care about him, but I find that I do.
“After the new year, you eventually convinced Mr. Cross he wasn’t worth keeping around. He ended up unable to find work in Denver, and he and his wife moved. They struggled with money, and his wife ended up having to go back to work. He’s an old and bitter man now—doesn’t look at the world the same.”
“You’re lying,” I say. “There’s no way.”
“May I show you?” Sam asks, holding out his hand.
I take it, and as soon as I do, flashes of visions fill my mind like a montage of memories. It’s what Kai did the first night he showed me the past. This time, however, it’s not mine. It’s Tim’s. I see images of sadness, pain, hurt, struggle, and finally, bitterness. I feel his resentment toward me and his hatred of what he felt I forced him to become. Even his daughter dislikes me for what I did.
I gasp and pull my hand away, my breathing shallow. “That wasn’t real.”
“Not yet, but it will be.”
I want to argue, but Future Me distracts me. She stands from the chair and walks closer to the fire. There’s no music, andbecause the room is so bare, everything feels cold despite the heat of the flames.
I step closer to her and watch as she peers into the fire. She rubs her hand over her face, and I know what she’s doing: dissociating.
Her eyes go hazy, and her lips press tight. She’s staring into the fire but not really. My heart twinges in my chest, tears pricking my eyes as I spin on my heel and walk away from Sam and Future Me.
“Greer?” he asks.
I don’t respond. I walk at a fast pace through the house, taking everything in but also looking for something. What, I don’t know.
It’s funny. At one point, this would have been my dream house. It’s big like Mr. Cross’s was—plenty of room, high ceilings, everything built well with the best marble, wood, and hardware. There’s no color except for modern paintings here and there, but even those are muted.
I go from room to room with Sam on my heels. He doesn’t speak again, but I know he wants to—I can feel questions on his tongue like a weight making the air as heavy as a humid summer day.
Each room I look into has something in it: a gym, an office, a library, another office, then a bedroom.
It’s the only bed in the home.
I stare at the perfectly made king-sized bed. I don’t look away until I feel Sam’s light touch on my shoulder. “It’s time to go, Greer. We have one last stop.”
I look at Sam, my brow furrowed. “She doesn’t even have a guest room.”
His dark eyes are sad as he says, “No, you don’t.”
Not she.You. Because this is me. This is my future life.
I take one last look at the bed that doesn’t even seem like it’s been slept in before holding my hand out to Sam. I don’t knowwhere he’ll take me next, but the tug in my gut tells me I have to see it, no matter if it’s painful.
“Show me.”
