She couldn’t seriously think I was unattractive, could she?
28
Merrie
Ipoured out my fourth hot chocolate of the day. I had pilfered extra chocolate from the bake-off yesterday and smuggled it back to the shop with me. I sipped the hot liquid. I felt jittery. Things were dire. My dog-walking money had run out. Had I used it to pay off any of my credit card debt, student loan debt, or the back rent I owed?
No. No, I had not.
Instead, I had bought cookie-making ingredients. Besides, I was anxious. Business wasn’t just slow—it was anemic. I needed to face the Christmas music—I had failed as an ornament shop owner.
“I don’t know why I’m even trying. Even if I won the bake-off, the only thing the money would do would pay off all my debt. Then I’d be back at zero,” I mumbled in my hot chocolate.
Desperately, I scrolled through the TradeMe app. I needed a job. Preferably one that wasn’t manual labor because all I’d had to eat that day was hot chocolate.
“You want to split my grilled ham sandwich and cheddar, bacon, and potato soup?” Olivia asked, opening the door to the shop, the bell jingling to announce her arrival.
I sighed into my hot chocolate.
“You don’t have to keep feeding me.”
“I just bought extra, is all,” Olivia said, pushing the container of soup to me.
“No, you didn’t.”
“You’re going to eat anyway.” She inspected the mostly empty pot of hot chocolate that was on the counter. “How much of this have you had?” She frowned. “It’s barely past lunchtime.”
“Got an early start today,” I said. All the sugar was making me shaky. I ate a big spoonful of the soup.
“So good,” I mumbled around it and took a big bite of the ham sandwich. The grilled bread had a nice crunch, and the Swiss cheese and mustard formed a tangy counterpoint to the soup.
I felt my spirits start to lift. Things couldn’t be all bad if there was savory potato soup.
“Do you think Matt’s going to be hanging around to get a peep at your tits—excuse me, to make sure you’re not sleeping in your shop?”
“Har har.” I scooped out another spoonful of the cheesy soup. “Probably. It must be nice being a billionaire. You have other people do the work, money magically flows in, and all you have to do is just lounge around and be a complete asshole and ruin other people’s lives.”
I took a bite of the sandwich to calm down.
“Next time he comes over, just flash him,” Olivia said, pulling the soup container back toward her. “He’ll be so stunned he’ll just turn around and walk back home to jerk off.”
“I’ll file that away as my emergency backup plan.”
Olivia was concerned. “I don’t think you should sleep in the nativity scene again.”
“It was actually pretty comfortable,” I assured her.
“Can’t you stay at your mom’s or Bettina’s?”
“I would literally rather flash Matt than deal with my mom and all her judgment and guilt-tripping. Also, Aunt Bettina is hosting Airbnbers. They’re all nudists and like ninety years old.”
“Lordy.”
“Yeah. She was telling me all about it the other day, how they put down little towels on the kitchen chairs before sitting. She said it’s a Christmas miracle that the old men’s ding-dongs haven’t frozen off.”
“I’d say you could sleep in my car, but I have to go to Manhattan for a big client meeting. I’ll probably stay with a friend from college for the night. But I can come back so you have somewhere to sleep.”
“Don’t worry about me. Matt might not even show up.”
