Page 85 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“Where are we?” I ask as I step away from Remi, pretending I don’t miss holding his hand already. That his touch, even if not real, is comforting.
“You’ll see.” He motions for me to follow, and I fall in step behind him. The home we’re in looks to be older but updated. The walls are a light blue, and the stairs we pass that lead upstairs are painted white. As we get further in, the baby’s cries get louder.
“She just ate,” a tired female voice says. “I don’t know why she’s still crying.”
“I told you to go rest, Bobbi,” a man answers. “You’ve hardly gotten any sleep.”
“Neither have you.”
“Maybe so, but as my superior said, it’s not like I pushed a watermelon out of my penis.”
Tim. I’m in Tim’s home—it has to be. And how does he know I said that? The only way would be if Avery told him.
My guess is confirmed when we fully enter the kitchen. Tim is there, and so is who I’m going to guess is his wife, Bobbi. They’re standing in the middle of the blue-and-white kitchen near each other. She’s cradling a tiny screaming baby in her arms who’s wearing a festive green onesie with a little red hat.
“I can’t believe she said that. You need to report her.”
“It’s not like Greer said it to my face. She didn’t know I was standing by Avery’s desk and she was on speaker. Not to mention, she’s one of Mr. Cross’s best asset managers, if not the best.”
“You said he’s nicer than her though, right? That she’s more cutthroat?”
Me? More cutthroat than Mr. Cross? I have to hold in a scoff because that is ridiculous. That man is the one who taughtmehow to be cutthroat, told me to take care of business no matter the cost.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Greer’s probably already working on getting permission to fire me for not serving Carole’s Bar their notice.”
Bobbi shushes the still-screaming baby. “You really think she’d do that?”
“I didn’t do my job. I told you the risk of not doing it.”
Bobbi steps closer to Tim and kisses his stubbled cheek. He looks disheveled and tired, dark circles under his eyes.
He’s different here than when I see him at the office. There, his short, dark hair is neatly combed with product, and he’s always in a suit. Here, he looks like he’s been put through thewringer. He’s thinner and wearing a baggy shirt and pajama pants.
The baby cries louder, and Tim holds out his arms. Bobbi passes the screaming child to him. He holds the girl close and kisses her forehead, breathing her in. After she’s quieted, he looks at his dark-haired wife, eyes glassy.
“I should have done it. If I lose my job, how are we going to survive? We depend on the insurance, and I don’t want you to have to go back to work so soon after the baby.” He kisses the child’s head again before he says, “I bet I won’t get my end-of-year bonus, either. God!”
“Shhh,” Bobbi says. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“I still have time; I could go deliver it if I leave now.”
His wife squeezes his shoulder. “No, we talked about this. You’re a good person, Tim. You didn’t want to ruin someone’s Christmas. The eviction will still be an eviction in a few days. You made the right choice.”
“Maybe. But now I’ve ruinedourChristmas.”
She shakes her head, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder so she’s looking at their new baby along with him. “I don’t know; I don’t think it’s ruined at all. We have each other, and we have our health. That’s all that matters—we’ll figure out the rest later. If anything, it’s Greer who is having a bad Christmas.”
Tim frowns. “I didn’t want that, either.”
“You’re too nice, baby.”
“I don’t want anyone to have a bad Christmas, not even her.”
“Like I said, too nice. You said she’ll most likely fire you.”
“I know.” He sighs, kissing Bobbi’s hair.
“Come on, let’s sit by the fire. I’m going to try to get her to latch again. After that, we’ll attempt to sleep.”
