Page 40 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
“The space has good bones,” Grant said. “It just needed proper restoration.”
“And now corporate wants you to revive it for a community gala.” Victoria walked the perimeter, heels clicking. “It must have been quite an undertaking. Especially with limited resources and...” She paused delicately. “Limited professional expertise.”
There it was.
“Ms. Adams has been very dedicated,” Grant said, his tone neutral.
“I’m sure she has. Dedication is admirable.” Victoria stopped near the tree. “But Grant, between us, don’t you think this whole thing is a bit... much? It’s all very charming in a kindergarten-craft-fair sort of way, but is this really the image Sterling-Midland wants to project? Childish sentiment instead of professional sophistication?”
Felicity’s breath caught. Childish. The word that haunted her, delivered with casual cruelty.
“The Hometown Heart initiative requested authentic community engagement,” Grant said carefully.
“Community engagement, yes. But there’s a difference between authentic and amateur.” Victoria moved closer to him. “This decorator of yours—she’s local, isn’t she? No formal training, no corporate experience. Just someone who does parties and residential decorating.”
Say something, Felicity thought desperately. Defend me.
“The project has been challenging,” Grant said.
The words felt like a blow. Not a defense. Just acknowledgment.
“I’m sure it has been.” Victoria’s voice turned sympathetic. “You’ve always been too polite, Grant. Too concerned with everyone’s feelings. But sometimes you have to acknowledge when someone simply isn’t ready for something this serious. This... professional.”
Silence.
Felicity waited for him to object, to defend her, to mention the ballroom cleaning, the auction setup, the way she’d stayed until midnight. The way he’d smiled at her last night, like she mattered.
He didn’t say any of those things.
“You’re probably right,” he finally said quietly. “It’s been... difficult. Managing expectations. Maintaining quality control.”
Managing expectations. As if she were a problem to be solved.
“Of course it has.” Victoria touched his arm. “That’s why I’m glad I came. I can help manage the narrative if things don’t go perfectly. Make sure your reputation doesn’t suffer.”
“That’s not necessary?—”
“I insist. We’re friends, Grant.”
Felicity couldn’t listen anymore. She moved away from the door, hands shaking, throat tight. She made it to the far corner behind the stage before she had to stop and lean against the wall.
Childish. Amateur. Not professional.
And Grant had said nothing. Had stood there while Victoria dismantled everything Felicity had worked for and offered nothing but silence and careful agreement.
Last night he’d been about to kiss her. This morning he was letting his perfect ex-girlfriend confirm every insecurity Felicity had ever had.
She heard their footsteps leaving, Victoria’s voice drifting: “You should have lunch with me. We have so much to catch up on...”
The voices faded.
Felicity stayed pressed against the wall, staring at the tree they’d decorated together. It looked different now. Not magical. Just desperate. An amateur’s attempt to play professional.
She couldn’t leave. She had five hours of work scheduled, people depending on her, deadlines that wouldn’t wait. She had to stay, had to work, had to pretend she hadn’t just overheard the man she’d almost kissed agreeing that she wasn’t good enough.
An hour later, Victoria and Grant emerged from his office. Victoria was tucking her phone away, looking satisfied.
“Thank you for the tour, Grant. It was illuminating.” Her smile was warm. “I’ll be in touch about lunch. And don’t worry—I’ll handle the corporate narrative.”
