CHAPTER ONE
Abby
Today at work might be the only merry time I get for the next two days. I’m facing a very Grinch-like scenario this Christmas. Well, tonight and tomorrow. Although, this morning isn’t turning out like I planned, and I don’t know what to do.
December twenty-fourth should be a happy day. I wanted to come in to work this morning. That is, until I got here.
The problem?
I thought working today would help me forget about tomorrow being Christmas, except all my coworkers want to do is eat sweets, show off their Santa hats and elf ears, and rock around the Christmas tree in the lobby. Cue the jingle bells a few of my coworkers are wearing on their earlobes and around their necks.
I’m glad they’re full of cheer—no spiked eggnog needed—but I keep getting triggered.
Not by the holiday itself, but where I’ll be spending it tonight and tomorrow.
Stop, Abby. You have work to do.
I do. The emails and messages from my clients are piling up. Everyone wants to talk or check in with me before the office closes until after the New Year. Would it be strange if I volunteered to work over the shutdown, including tomorrow?
Okay, especially tomorrow.
I don’t actually hate Christmas. It used to be my favorite holiday. I’m just not in the mood this year. My “ho-ho-ho” never appeared, and I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Stop procrastinating.
I blink and refocus on the spreadsheet filling my computer monitor. I’d rather lay my head on the desk and call it a day.Instead, I yawn so big I expect two turtledoves to fly into my mouth. Yep, I’m that tired.
Even drinking two cups of coffee strong enough to wake the dead hasn’t given me any energy. Boo caffeine for not providing the boost I need. It must be almost time to go home.
I glance at the time. Nine o’clock. That’s a.m., not p.m.
How will I survive an entire day?
Night?
And tomorrow?
Outside my office door I left ajar, I overhear Sarah from accounting talking about the ski trip she and her husband are taking. I wonder if I could go with them, even though I’ve never skied in my life. Dora, an admin assistant, says she bought a mini massage gun for her in-laws’ white elephant gift exchange. I’m sure I could come up with a present of some sort if she invited me along. Mike pipes in about how he won a gift card at his neighborhood’s gingerbread house competition and can’t wait to give it to his sister. Nothing I can do there.
Each of them sounds so happy, so full of holiday joy, which only doubles the knot of dread in my stomach. A part of me wants to use my best ninja-stealth techniques to close the door without being noticed, but I’m sure someone would see or hear me.
I glance under my desk at Powerfluff. The door to her crate is open so she can explore my office, but she’s sound asleep. All I see is gray fur, but the sight fills me with warmth.
The electricity on the west side of town decided to ghost me at 3 a.m., leaving me in a dark and freezing-cold apartment. I’m talking arctic temperatures, which means I didn’t sleep much. I was too busy worrying about turning into a human-sized popsicle.
Thankfully, the east side—aka where the rich people live and where I work—is immune to the blackout drama. That meansPowerfluff and I are basking in the warmth and light of my office like two crescent rolls fresh from the oven. The only thing missing? Butter melting over us. Merry Christmas to us.
The power outage has thrown a huge wrench into my plan—well, excuse—to miss Christmas with my family. What’s that adage about best-laid plans…? My mom has already texted me about my electricity being out. That means I can’t use my usual excuse that my demanding boss is making me work over the holidays so I have to stay home. That’s what I told them so I could skip Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July, and Father’s Day. A white lie, but in my defense, my boss has asked me to stay late a few times, though never on a weekend. Besides, I’ve only fibbed to save my sanity…and my heart.
Especially my heart.
Except now I’m stuck without an excuse. I can’t use the same excuse I was planning to use today. I last saw my family on Mother’s Day, and the emotional scars are still healing.
Do I want to deal with all that drama now?
A big N-O-P-E.
It’s not that I hate my family. I love them. But they’re…exhausting. My parents only care about my sister, Rachel—her fancy job, her boyfriend she stole from me, and her whole perfect life. I’m more like the friend who overstayed her welcome, not their younger daughter. They don’t understand me, nor do they care to. We have the same conversation about my life every time we’re together. When my boyfriend, who I thought was “The One,” cheated on me with my older sister and broke my heart, they were so excited to celebrate Rachel’s happiness and told me to get over it. Everyone seems fine now that Rachel and Jake are “officially” together and in “love.” How I feel still doesn’t matter to them, which tells me I don’t matter.
