Page 63 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you are making progress. People are noticing. You know, the media loves a comeback story.”

“Comeback? I haven’t even started yet.” I slouch into the chair beside his desk, rubbing my temples. “I’m just trying to stop the walls from caving in.”

“Hey, hey.” Dex’s tone shifts slightly, more reassuring now. “You’re doing it. You’re breathing life into this place. That’s the story. And this article is huge. You’ve got the city’s attention now. Just in time for the gala.”

“Just in time for the gala,” I repeat flatly. “Yeah, because I’m definitely feeling ready for a night of charming the public while I can’t even keep my own pulse from racing.”

Dex leans forward, his usual optimism still bright. “Sunny, this is the moment. You’ve got everyone’s eyes on you. You can turn this around.”

I close my eyes, squeezing my temples harder, trying to push the pounding away. My body is betraying me, getting worse every minute I try to focus on anything other than the thudding of my head.

The dizziness hits in waves, and my hands are shaking so much that the pages of the magazine slip through my fingers.

“Great. Fantastic. I can barely keep my balance, and you want me to lead a gala.” I laugh bitterly. “You know what’s even worse? I can’t even blame Ryder for this. He didn’t want this either. I know he didn’t. But somehow, this whole mess is still on my shoulders.”

Dex’s face softens, his gaze turning a little more serious. “It’s not just on you, Sunny. This hotel… this legacy… it’s all of us now. And not everything has to be perfect, right?”

“Not everything has to be perfect?” I repeat, looking up at him in disbelief. “Dex, the entire event is about making everything perfect. The whole damn thing is built on perfection, and right now, I feel like I’m one step away from passing out.”

He stares at me for a moment, as if deciding whether to press or back off.

“You should rest, Sunny. I know you’ve got a lot to do, but maybe it’s time to take a step back. You’re not helping anyone by running yourself into the ground.”

I want to argue. I want to say I can’t afford to rest. But as I feel the dizziness creeping in, my vision blurring slightly, I know he’s right.

I hate it. I hate the idea of having to stop when there’s so much to do. But the thought of pushing through when I feel like this… it makes my stomach churn with anxiety.

I drag myself up from my chair, the strain of the day pressing down on my chest. “I guess… I guess you’re right. But if I go to bed now, I’m going to feel like I’ve failed.”

“You’re not failing,” Dex reassures me, standing up to give me one last nod. “You’re doing what you need to do. Get some rest. We’ve got this.”

I nod, even though I’m not convinced. As I walk out of his office, my legs might as well be made of lead.

My mind is buzzing with everything that still needs to be done, the thousand details I can’t forget, but my body refuses to cooperate. My vision wavers, and I lean against the wall for a moment to steady myself.

The hotel feels too quiet, too empty somehow, as if everything is just waiting for me to fall apart. I can almost hear the murmurs of everyone watching, waiting for me to fail, and I wonder if it’s all going to crumble before I even get a chance to prove I can do this.

I make my way to my room, and it feels like the world is slowing down around me. The last thing I want to do is lie down.

But my body doesn’t give me a choice.

Tinsel pads after me like a little shadow, slipping into the room before I can even shut the door. When I collapse onto the bed, she hops up too, circling once before curling into the crook of my side.

Her steady purring is the only sound in the quiet, a soft reminder that maybe I’m not as alone as I feel.

The bed is too inviting. It swallows me up, pulling me into its warmth, and I give in, closing my eyes. But it doesn’t make it any easier to silence the noise in my head.

The phone buzzes on my nightstand, pulling me from the fog.

It’s a text from Marjorie.

Marjorie: Hey, are you still alive? It’s been a while, and I miss you.

I stare at the screen, my mind still foggy, and then I finally start typing, needing to unload everything that’s been bouncing around in my head.

Sunny: Just barely. I’m a mess, M. I don’t even know where to start.

A pause before her response.