Page 119 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

I just need a minute. A break. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when I’m a walking disaster in heels.

“Right. Handle it. You’re good at that,” I mumble.

That’s when I spot Marjorie.

She’s standing by the back hallway, hands on her hips, surveying the scene with the same wide-eyed intensity she brings to everything. And then, because she’s been waiting for me, she zeroes in on me.

“Sunny Quinn. You look like you just survived a war zone.” She marches over and grabs my elbow, tugging at it. “Come on, get your butt upstairs. I’m doing something about this.”

“About what?” I ask, confused, barely keeping up with her as she drags me toward the stairs.

“About you,” she says. “You need to stop pretending you’re not a complete wreck. It’s Christmas Eve, the day of your gala, for your hotel, in your aunt’s memory. You need to look the part. I think you need a breather as well.”

I shoot her a quick glance, trying to hide the exhaustion on my face. “I can’t afford a breather right now, Marj. I’ve got a gala to survive, a hotel to keep running, and a million things going wrong. And my stomach’s making me feel like I might pass out any second?—”

“Which is exactly why I’m taking you upstairs,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument. “If you’re going to survive tonight, you’re gonna need some backup. And that starts with looking like you know what the hell you’re doing.”

Before I can protest any further, we’re halfway up the stairs, and she’s pulling me toward my room.

“Marj, I really don’t have time for?—”

“Shut up,” she orders with a wink, and then it hits me.

She’s not giving me a choice. It’s one of those moments where I know she’s about to do something that I will thank her for later. But right now? I’m so far past my breaking point that I can’t even think straight.

I follow her into the room, and the door shuts behind us. Immediately, she starts pulling out all sorts of beauty products from a high-end department store’s cosmetics section.

“Sit. Relax. Close your eyes,” she instructs, pushing me down onto the couch. “I’m giving you a makeover. You’re going to look amazing tonight, even if you have to fake it until you make it.”

I look up at her, about to protest again, but something about the way she’s so damn confident makes me stop.

“You’ve got this. I’m just… helping you shine for once,” she says, throwing me one last look over her shoulder. “Trust me, it’s what you need right now. Everything else is under control. I am in constant contact with Claire, Eli, Dex, Charles, even Nolan… if there is a disaster, we’ll know.”

I sink into the couch and let out a long breath. I don’t even have the energy to fight her anymore.

She starts with my hair, gathering my messy curls into an intricate twist and securing them with pins. As she works, the familiar comfort of her hands on my scalp calms me, and I start to relax.

With Marjorie around, it’s hard not to feel a little lighter, a little less like I’m about to sink into the floor.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I whisper, eyes half-closed as she gives my hair one final tug.

“Do what?” she asks, focusing on her work, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Make everything seem like it’s not a disaster.” I sigh. “I feel like I’m about to trip over my own feet at any second.”

“Girl,” she says with a snort, “this place is a disaster. We both know it. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me. And I’m gonna make you look like a damn queen tonight. Tonight is the night where you turn itallaround.”

She pulls back and moves to the vanity, digging through various beauty products. I barely have time to adjust before she’s working her magic with blush, a little mascara, and even some shimmer to make my skin glow. Something I haven’t seen in a long time.

When she’s finished, she steps back, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied grin. “There. You look ten times better already. Now, for the final touch…”

I look up at her, intrigued. “What’s that?”

She grabs a red lipstick tube and holds it out like a weapon of mass seduction. “This. You need some fire, Sunny. You’re not just gonna show up at this gala looking like you haven’t had a nap in two days. You’re gonna walk in there and own the damn room.”

I let her apply the bold, red lipstick that's perfectly me, and when she’s finished, I’m honestly shocked. I look in the mirror and don’t immediately want to hide under a blanket.

“Holy crap,” I murmur, running a hand over my now flawless hair. “You did it. I look… I look like I know what I’m doing.”