Page 9 of Perfectly Complicated
I feel the color drain from my face. “Lauren, I need to change assignments.Now.”
“What’s wrong?” She tilts her head, thoroughly confused. “I thought you enjoyed working with kids.”
“I do. But Christmas?” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t do Christmas.”
“Because of religious beliefs?” she asks.
I hesitate. I can’t tell her why I’m against Christmas—because no one knows the truth. “I just think it’s a commercialized, over-hyped holiday that sucks joy from people’s lives.”
Leo starts laughing. “Oh, this is perfect. Mr. Anti-Christmas forced to work alongside a bunch of five-year-olds singing ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Silent Night.’”
“It’s not funny,” I snap, but even as I say it, I know I’m trapped. The irony is so perfect, it’s almost cruel.
“Sorry, Rourke,” Lauren says. “All the other spots are filled now. Look at it this way, maybe a little Christmas spirit will be good for you.”
I stare at her like she’s suggested I perform in theNutcrackerin a pair of tights. Knowing my luck, the teacher running this disaster will probably be some overly cheerful Christmas fanatic who’ll want me to give a jollyho-ho-hoon command.
“How many hours did you say this was?” I ask weakly.
“Forty. Minimum,” Lauren says. “Rehearsals start Thursday.”
Forty hours of Christmas pageant hell. With kids who still believe in Santa and magic and all the holiday crap I’ve spent years avoiding.
I’m so screwed.
“Who’s running this thing?” I ask, hoping against hope it’s some elderly grandmotherly type who’ll take pity on me. I can probably talk my way out of it. Maybe get Miles or Jaxon to switch with me.
“Let me see.” Lauren scrolls on her tablet. “Okay, your contact person is…” She pauses, squinting as she reads. “Janie Bennett.”
I stop breathing for a solid three seconds.
Lauren tilts her head. “She’s the kindergarten teacher, remember? The cute one.”
Like I haven’t already figuredthatout.
“I need to change assignments,” I demand. “Right now.”
“You can’t. There aren’t any other spots?—”
“Lauren, I’ll take any assignment. I’ll clean toilets at the animal shelter. Read to senior citizens. You name it, I’ll be there.”
“What’s wrong with working with Janie?” Brax asks, clearly enjoying watching me squirm in misery. “Scared of getting shown up by a bunch of kindergartners and their teacher?”
“It’s not the kids,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s—” I stop myself before I admit the whole humiliating truth. That she’s the woman who ghosted me.
“It’s what?” Lauren asks.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “The teacher and I have…history.”
“I know. But she probably doesn’t even remember the hospital incident,” Lauren says.
“Oh, she remembers. And the dance in the bar when I told her I didn’t like Christmas. She hates my guts,” I say flatly. “And now I have to spend forty hours convincing a bunch of five-year-olds that Christmas is magical while working under a woman who thinks I’m pond scum.”
“Good luck,” Lauren says. “Your first rehearsal is this Thursday at six. And don’t be late. Janie has to pick up Aria right after, so she needs tostart on time.”
“Who’s Aria?” I ask.
Without even looking up from her tablet, she replies, “Her daughter.”
