Page 7 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Pause it. It’ll still be there.”
Footsteps padded reluctantly across the hardwood, and then Ruby appeared in the doorway. Her hair was sticking out in three different directions, and her fleece pajamas—blue withtiny snowmen—were slightly twisted from her morning couch sprawl.
My brother dropped her off first thing this morning, looking like she’d just come from a pillow fight warzone. Immediately, she curled up on the couch and fell right back asleep until waking up just a few moments ago to watch her movie.
Of course, the first thing she asked me when I saw her was, “What did you do last night, mommy?”
Well, I lied of course. I wasn’t going to tell her about the outrageously good-looking man I ran into at the local bar, the same one I couldn’t stop thinking about. Secretly, I hoped I would run into him again so I could make good on what I was willing to do on a second date.
“If this is about brushing my teeth,” she announced before I could even speak, “I’m on break from that until after Christmas.”
I blinked. “That’s… not a thing.”
“It could be a thing,” she muttered, climbing up onto one of the counter stools. She rested her chin in her hands and gave me the kind of look that suggested she was tolerating this conversation out of the goodness of her heart. “Okay. What’s up?”
I wrapped my hands around my mug for warmth, bracing myself. “So… I talked to your dad.”
She gave the world’s most exaggerated eye-roll. “And?”
“And… he’s not going to be here for Christmas this year.”
Ruby’s expression didn’t change much, but she did shrug one shoulder. “Okay.”
The sarcasm was so deadpan it almost made me choke on my coffee. “Glad to see you’re coping well.”
She tilted her head. “We still doing presents?”
“Yes.”
“Still doing cookies?”
“Obviously.”
“Still doing my Christmas Eve hot cocoa buffet with Uncle Ollie in the morning?”
“Of course.”
She gave a small nod, satisfied. “Then I’m fine.”
“Glad we could get through that emotional hardship together,” I said dryly, taking another sip of coffee.
She grinned, and I felt a flicker of that bittersweet ache I always did this time of year. My girl was resilient—sometimes more than I was—but there was still a part of me that hated she had to be.
“Well,” I said, trying to shake off the heaviness, “lucky for you, I have a backup plan.”
Her little head tilted. “Does it involve pancakes? Because that’s the only backup plan I care about.”
I laughed. “No pancakes…yet. But I found someone who’s going to come stay with us through New Year’s and help out while I’m working.”
Ruby perked up. “Like… a live-in elf?”
“Sort of,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “Their name is Brooks. They have a lot of experience doing fun things. Sound good?”
Ruby narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Brooks… is this a boy or a girl?”
“Girl, I’m pretty sure,” I admitted. Suddenly, I was unaware if I made the right assumption or not. What man would apply to nanny a seven-year-old girl around the holidays and agree to live here? “Does it matter?”
“Only if they’re a boy,” she said seriously. “Because then I’m gonna make them play princess tea party every single day until they cry.”
