Page 22 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“You’re the one sending my best friend ransom notes like the Zodiac Killer.”
“Okay, Hallie—” I start, seeing that this is going to start spiraling soon, my headstrong best friend battling against my incredibly stubborn neighbor.
“She’s the one leaving her shit all over my lawn.”
“So you’re holding her beloved nutcracker as repayment? Isn’t that a bit childish? She’s just trying to bring a little bit of cheer to the town. It’s tradition, after all, for the whole town to be lit up.”
“I just don’t see why that has to bemyproblem. I don’t like Christmas; I don’t know why my house being undecorated is such a big deal,” he counters.
“Because you’re a part of the town! We decorate in this town,” Hallie says, voice rising as she throws her hands up in frustration. It’s interesting watching the argument for this side of things, when usually I’m in Hallie’s position.
Unfortunately, despite how entertaining this all is, today has been a long day, and I have at least a dozen more cookies to finish baking before I can even think about heading to bed. I try to mask a yawn, but Adam’s attention is instantly on me.
“You look exhausted,” he says, taking a half step closer to me. There’s an irritated look on his face, as if the idea of my being tired genuinely annoys him.
“Oh, just what every woman wants to hear,” Hallie says, and he turns his head to glare at her, though his body stays pointed toward me.
“I didn’t say she doesn’t look gorgeous. I said she looks tired, probably because she’s up until one a.m. every damn night, working her own fucking Santa’s workshop.”
“Are you stalking her?” Hallie asks with wide eyes. Adam rolls his, and I have to bite back a smile, knowing that this is another conversation Adam and I have already had.
“No, her office is across from mine so that I can see her lights on all night. She’s exhausted because she refuses to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”
Something in my mind pings, and I turn to him. “You’re also up, you know.”
“But that’s because I’m doing work formyself, not favors for other people.”
I purse my lips in defeat, then watch the grin spread over his face. That’s when Hallie turns her ire on me.
“What were you working on?”
I sigh. God, now Hallie is never going to let me live in peace.
“Last night I was working on decorations for the holiday party.”
“Wren,” she says, giving me a disapproving look. “That’s not your job. You took over the Thanksgiving decorations!”
“I know, I know, but I offered to do it because Grace just got a puppy and it’s keeping her up all night and?—”
Hallie’s face goes into full-on frustration before she throws her hands in the air, turning her body fully toward me. “Willingly! Shewillinglygot a puppy, Wren. What does her getting a puppy have to do with you losing sleep?”
I shake my head, tired of this conversation already. “It’s for work, Hal.”
“Are you getting paid for it?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. I don’t respond because we both know that answer. The standoff lasts a few moments before it’s interrupted.
“What is work, by the way?” Adam asks, and we turn to him, having almost forgotten he was there.
Almost.
“What?” I ask, confused by the question.
“You’re up late every night, and you leave at the crack of dawn. What kind of work could require that?”
“She’s a second-grade teacher,” Hallie says with exasperation before I can respond. “But she volunteers to monitor before-care and always ends up staying late to help someone with something because she doesn’t know how to prioritize herself.”
“That’s not fair?—”
She cuts me off before I can complete my argument, crossing her arms on her chest. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”
