Page 129 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
It’s going to be a different kind of Christmas this year for everyone.
I sit at the table with Sunny, and we talk about random things—small talk. Silly stuff. The kind of conversation that makes time slow down.
Nothing’s rushed. Nothing’s urgent. Just us, hanging out with the people who matter.
Eventually, everyone trickles in. Eli, Dex, and a few of the others who’ve stuck around. It’s not a big crowd, but the whole vibe feels cozy, and that’s exactly what we need.
Marjorie comes in last, balancing a huge tray of mashed potatoes.
“Sorry, I was getting all this together. I didn’t think it was that much,” she says, setting it down with a flourish.
I laugh. “It’s fine. We can always use leftovers.”
The table is full of warmth. It’s not the fancy, extravagant dinner I imagined this hotel would serve, but it’s perfect in its own way.
Everyone’s helping, passing food around, and there’s laughter filling the air. Even Tinsel is on her best behavior… well, mostly.
As we dig in, I realize this is probably the best Christmas I’ve had in years. There’s no pressure. No expectations.
Just people I care about, doing something simple together.
I catch Sunny’s eye across the table, and it’s one of those moments where nothing needs to be said. The smile she gives me makes my chest warm.
It’s a simple smile, the kind that says everything. That says, we’re okay.
I could get used to this.
Marjorie is telling some ridiculous story about Eli trying to decorate the tree with more tinsel than it could handle, and everyone’s laughing. Even the staff who usually keep their distance are relaxed and a little more at ease with each other.
It’s funny how a shared meal can make everyone family.
I take a deep breath, soaking in the moment, watching Sunny as she talks to Dex, her eyes lighting up in that way they always do when she’s passionate about something. She’s so damn full of life.
It’s contagious.
At some point, after the plates are cleared and dessert is brought out —the best Christmas pie I’ve ever tasted —I find myself sitting next to Sunny. She’s leaning against me casually, and I can’t help but slide my arm around her.
This… feels right.
I love it.
The laughter and chatter of the dinner slowly fade as the evening winds down. People start to wander off, satisfied and sleepy from the meal, leaving just the two of us sitting by the fire in the small, cozy lounge.
The warmth of the fire flickers against the cold of the night, but it’s not the fire that’s making me feel this way—calm, content, almost… weightless.
It’s Sunny.
She’s sitting across from me, still wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater, her hair falling in soft waves around her face,and her eyes glinting in that way that’s equal parts mischievous and sweet.
It’s hard to believe this is real.
There’s a quiet between us, a comfortable pause in the noise of the day. And then, she stands up suddenly, her smile playful.
“Okay, I know we didn’t talk about doing presents, but I can’t just not give you something.”
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the armchair.
“You know, I didn’t plan on getting you anything either. But if you’re giving me a present,” I pause, reaching into my pocket, “thank goodness I’m prepared.”
