Page 36 of Scrooged for the Holidays
My mom’s words are cut off by Mrs. Jones walking into the room. “Are we ready to eat?”
Everyone looks at the smiling woman, dressed in a red and green Christmas sweater.
“I know I’m starved,” James says with a tug to Past Me’s bicep. “Let’s go eat.”
My mom doesn’t waste any time, turning on her heel and following Mrs. Jones into the dining area, where I know my dad is along with Mr. Jones, Avery, and Josh.
“What was that all about?” James asks quietly.
“Nothing.” She pulls her arm from James and stalks to the dining room with him on her heels.
I remember thinking I couldn’t wait until this night was over. I’d already disliked Christmas for a long time at this point, and that little conversation with my mom set my teeth on edge.
“Follow them,” Kai’s nearly too-soothing voice commands.
“Do I have to?” My plea comes out like a whine.
A small smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Yes, you do.”
“You’re insufferable.”
He places his hand on my lower back and gently pushes me. “Only when I need to be, Princess.”
I shouldn’t want to smile back, and it annoys me I have to fight the urge to do so. I hate that his nickname is growing on me, but I’m going to blame it on the fact that this isn’t real. Because no way would I like it in reality—especially since it’s similar to what I’m about to be called at dinner. But Kai doesn’t say it with malice; his tone is always teasing, nearly affectionate.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and puff out a breath. Kai guides me to the dining room.
Any brief semblance of a good feeling exits my body as the table comes into view. I don’t know what kind of magic nightmare Angel Boy has worked, but time has jumped. Dinner is over, and dessert has been served. It’s a Bûche de Noël with a gingerbread filling—Avery’s mom made it every year, and it was always my favorite. Except this year, instead of enjoying a slice, Past Me is tapping something on her phone.
“Greer, it’s rude to be on the phone at the table,” my mom scolds.
James chuckles before Past Me can answer. “That angle won’t work, especially when it comes to her job.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” my dad adds. “I’m sure it can wait.”
Past Greer’s head is down, and she’s not paying attention to their chatter. Seeing the memory from this angle is different because I can see the looks that everyone is giving me. Mom is annoyed, Dad is disappointed, and Avery’s parents watch the scene with curiosity while Josh is focused on Avery. Avery, on the other hand, meets James’s gaze, holding a silent conversation no one else can hear before her brow furrows and she turns her frown toward the girl I used to be.
“As Greer says, the real estate market never sleeps,” James says.
“I think it’s more like Greer never sleeps,” Avery adds.
Past Greer looks up from her phone, and I remember being peeved that they were talking about me as if I wasn’t there.
“I’m not trying to be rude; I’m trying to earn a living,” Past Me snaps.
“That living will still be there the day after tomorrow,” Avery says. “It’s Christmas Eve. You can take a break.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t need the job.” My shoulders stiffen, and Past Me fights with herself at her careless words. I felt bad then for saying it, and in a way, I feel bad now. Avery is my friend, and I was mean to her.
But at the same time, nobody—not even her—can understand how hard I worked for the job I have and everything I gave up to have it.
“Greer!” Mom scolds. “That was rude.”
Avery grips the stem of her wine glass. “It’s okay, Mrs. Mallory.”
“No, it’s not okay. You should apologize, Greer,” my dad adds.
The entire table is silent, the cheery Christmas music playing from somewhere in the background adding to the strange absurdity of the moment.
