Page 55 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
My mother stands at the center of the lobby, her presence already too much. The sleek cream coat hugs her figure just so, and the pristine color sums her up perfectly.
She’s a polished machine. Perfectly put together, styled with the kind of care only a former stage mom could understand. Even her hair, too perfect to be natural, gleams under the soft light.
There’s no warmth in her expression, not even a flicker of understanding, just that look of perfection that somehow makes everything a performance.
And I hate it.
When she spots me, her smile widens into a saccharine grin that makes my stomach turn. She strides over, ignoring the cold distance between us, and leans in to kiss my cheek.
I flinch, but I don’t pull away. I never have.
“Ryder,” she purrs, “it’s so good to see you again. It’s been far too long, has it not?”
The kiss lingers for a moment too long, and I can feel the tension running under her skin, a wire waiting to snap. I can’tsay I’m surprised. She’s always been good at making me feel this way.
Small. Worthless when I’m not doing what she wants.
“Mother,” I manage, cold as I can. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes twinkle with that knowing look, the one that means she’s already made her move.
“Oh, I saw the latest drama online,” she says, waving a manicured hand in the air. “The buzz about the hotel, the legacy of the Christmas Prince… There’s a lot of potential here, darling. It’s all about the brand, you know?”
My jaw tightens. I don’t need to hear this. I don’t want to.
“I’ve already reached out to a producer,” she continues, her eyes gleaming. “We’ve got an opportunity, Ryder. A reunion movie. You know how the public loves a comeback.”
A reunion movie.
The memories come crashing back, sharp and jagged: endless hours in front of cameras, forced smiles, the way she pushed me too hard, always too hard.
The years spent building something for her, not for me, the way she mismanaged every cent I earned as a child.
It was never about the money. It was about control. It was about maintaining her image, her status.
And now, here she is again, trying to drag me back into that world, trying to make me relive everything I left behind.
I take a breath, pushing down the anger that flares up. I’ve worked too damn hard to let her pull me back into her games.
“No,” I snap firmly, cutting through the layers of her sugary charm. “The hotel is my priority now. I’m not doing a reunion movie.”
Elaine’s smile falters, but only for a second. She recovers quickly, that practiced mask sliding back into place, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, Ryder,” she says, dripping with false sweetness. “You really don’t understand, do you? This could be good for you. You’ve been hiding away, playing businessman while your fans—our fans—are dying for more.”
I shake my head. “Mom, I haven’t acted for years. This is my job now.”
She scoffs as her eyes flicker with an anger I recognize all too well.
“You don’t get it, Ryder,” she continues, her tone sweet but edged with something insidious. “You’ve been running this hotel, playing at being a grown-up, but it’s not who you are. You were made for the spotlight. You need this. We need this.”
I almost laugh, but it comes out as a dry, humorless sound. The spotlight. The fame. The years of grinding, smiling for the camera, and doing everything she wanted.
I’m done with it, done with her, and done with the chains she used to wrap around me.
But before I can say anything more, I catch a glimpse of movement in my peripheral vision. My heart drops into my stomach.
It’s Sunny.
