Page 98 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
I sit frozen, feeling an uncomfortable lump forming in my throat. I want to wait… wait for the right moment to tell him, but it’s clear from the tension in his voice that whatever he’s dealing with, it’s urgent.
And I can’t blame him for prioritizing business right now, not when the hotel is sinking faster than I can throw on a pair of Christmas socks.
“Are you serious?” he asks as he steps toward the door, his attention still completely consumed by the conversation.
He’s leaving the room, his lips moving in a quiet snarl as he listens to whatever they’re saying on the other end. I canbarely make out the words, but the frustration in his tone is unmistakable.
He opens the door, the cool morning air rushing in with him, and then he steps out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The sound of silence in the room is deafening.
I sit there for a moment, dumbfounded.
What now? What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Maybe it’s for the best. Perhaps I can just put this on pause for now.
It’s not like there’s going to be a perfect moment to tell him I’m pregnant. Not when we’re both on the edge of drowning in mystery and deception.
I drag myself up, forcing my legs to move. I tell myself I need todosomething, anything, to take my mind off the insanity in my chest.
The world is spinning in too many directions, but if I focus on something, I can slow it down, at least for a few minutes.
So, I put on some decent clothes. Well, decent enough. A red cardigan over a simple white blouse, jeans, and flats. I
It’s nothing spectacular, but it’s enough to get me out the door without my brain exploding into a pile of mush.
I make my way to Marjorie’s room, trying to shake off the nausea that keeps threatening to rise. I can’t focus onthatright now. I have to focus on the gala.
“Ooh, Sunny.” Marjorie slips out of her room as if she sensed me coming. “I was just coming to find you. We need to do gala prep, right?”
“We do.”
That’smyproject, and I genuinely do want to muster up my usual excitement for it. But I have to admit, I’m struggling to find it right now.
What the hell just happened with Ryder? It was so… weird.
“It’s okay,” Marjorie laughs. “We might have to pull off some miracle work, but between us, I think we can do it.”
I smile at her, but it feels a little strained. “Yeah. Miracle work. That’s our specialty, right?”
Marjorie raises an eyebrow, her usual mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “We are two of the most resourceful women I know. Between your chaotic genius and my ability to pull glitter out of thin air, we can do anything.”
She winks, and I can’t help but chuckle, though it feels more out of habit than anything else.
We make our way to the ballroom, and the moment I step through the doors, the hotel’s impending future bears down on me.
The space is grand, impressive, but the years of wear and tear are still painfully visible.
The walls, once painted in luxurious shades of cream and gold, have started to peel in places. The chandeliers, though still beautiful, are flickering and in desperate need of a polish. And the wooden floors? Scuffed, worn down by years of foot traffic.
I don’t think Evie was able to use this space in a very long time. Not for anything but storage.
We’ve cleared it out, though, and it’s starting to look like a room again. Sort of.
I try not to let it get to me. There’s no time for that. We’ve got a gala to pull off, and the clock is ticking.
“Alright, let’s get to work,” I say, trying to muster the energy to dive in. “We need to start getting the decor up.”
