Christmas in Spite of You

Noel.

“W ELL . . .”

I was sweating, literally sweating, because this was the make-it-or-break-it moment. And I needed this—like really, really , needed this.

“Noel, open the email. Waiting isn’t going to change the response.” I narrowed my eyes at Simone, my very best friend, who, at the moment, was being a pain in my—

“Give me that,” she demanded. Before I was able to object, she confiscated my laptop. Once she dragged it across the counter and I could no longer stall, I closed my eyes, waiting for the final nail in the coffin. My coffin . It was coming. I felt it by the way my stomach knotted.

“Hmm . . .”

Hmm. She said “hmm” and “hmm” wasn’t good.

“They said no, didn’t they?” My voice released barely above a whisper, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

“Not exactly. They—”

I snatched my laptop back and read the email.

Thanks so much for the design layouts you sent. We are at the year’s end and would like some additional time to review the layouts before we make our final decision. One of our executives will be in touch at the start of the New Year. We look forward to working with you and Happy Holidays.

Happy Holidays to you too, jerks!

“This said no, Simone.” I slammed my laptop closed, and my shoulders deflated. But, as usual, my overly supportive best friend wouldn’t allow me to sulk. She quickly rounded the counter and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“It’s not a no . It’s a ‘we’re too lazy to decide before the holiday. We’ll be sending you a contract and more than generous offer the first week of January.’”

“Right,” I groaned, not believing one word of the overly optimistic pitch. I stepped around Simone and entered my living room, flopping onto the sofa, where I lifted a pillow and covered my face to muffle the coming scream.

Once I finished, Simone snatched it from my face and loomed over me, arms folded over her chest. She had that look. The one that meant I was about to be lectured.

“Save it, please,” I groaned.

“Absolutely not. You will not sit here and self-destruct or sulk—whichever of the two you’re personally choosing at the moment.”

“Both.”

“Then, no and no. Denied !”

“You can’t deny a person’s self-destruction or sulking, Simone.”

“Actually, I can.” She sat next to me and inched closer. I lifted my head and allowed it to rest on her lap. “It’s not the end of the world, Noel—just a minor setback. You’ll be fine. Your business will be thriving in no time. You have to believe that.”

“I do believe my business will thrive. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dumped all my savings into taking this leap of faith. I’m not the one who needs to be convinced. My mounting bills need that pep talk. If I don’t start making money soon, I’m going to be homeless. I was really counting on this contract to hold me over until the first of the year. Now, what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to put on your big girl pants and use what you have.”

I glanced up at Simone, who was staring back in a way that meant I wouldn’t like what she was about to say.

“No. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t think it because my answer is no.”

“Can you at least hear me out first?” She smiled mischievously, and I groaned, lifting from my current position and shifting until I was seated with my legs tucked and crossed at the ankles in front of me. I flicked my wrist to signal for Simone to continue. She got up and traveled back to the kitchen, returned with my laptop, which she opened, and began typing something, turning it to me shortly after.

“Not happening,” I declared when I realized what the plan was. I was looking at the Shared Space profile she’d created for me a few weeks ago. I’d agreed to consider it as a last resort, but . . .

“Why not? You need the money, ”

I frowned, shaking my head and pointing at the screen. “I know I need the money, but that’s just weird.” I shivered in a cringy manner at the thought of what Shared Space was.

“How is it weird?” She raised a brow in a challenge, and I untucked my legs and stood from the sofa, pacing.

“It just is. Having strangers in your house, with access to your things, is creepy. Like, what if it’s some perv who goes through my drawers messing with my things or worse— wearing them? Or what if it’s some crazy person who likes to use that app to get intel on their next victim and then starts—”

“Starts what , Noel?” Simone was way too amused while I was freaking out. My mind shifted to the worst-case scenarios.

“I don’t know . . . stalking me or something. If you think about it, the idea is genius. They’ll be in my home, sharing my personal space and having access to my things. They’ll know everything about me, and that’s just . . .” I stopped pacing and wrinkled my nose. “Weird.”

“Was it weird that we used Shared Space when we traveled to Miami or LA last summer?”

I rolled my eyes and flopped into the corner of the sofa again. “No, because we’re not weird, and it wasn’t my place. It was someone else’s.”

“You get to screen whoever you allow to stay. You can do the whole background check thing to make sure they’re not—”

“Crazy? A stalker? A creepy pervert who goes around the country staying in women’s apartments?”

“You’re so dramatic, but yes. You’ll know if they have a history of anything that seems off.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what if I’m their first victim? Then what? No criminal record exists, and bam ! Some strange guy named Newton is spending the week in my apartment, sleeping in my bed, wearing my favorite silk pajamas.”

“Or, you pack your favorite silk pajamas for your trip home to spend the holiday with your family and skip past all applicants with the name ‘Newton.’”

I shot her a narrowed glare, and she smiled wider. “Come on, It’s a great idea, and you need the money. People pay really good money for these temporary rentals. It can help you with your bills until you get the official ‘welcome to the team’ email from all those lazy people who aren’t doing business because of the stupid holidays.”

“Hey, go easy on the ‘stupid holiday’part.The holidays are our friends and are the innocent party in all this.”

“Okay then, stupid, lazy people.” We sat in a standoff, and I chewed my lip, struggling with the decision until I finally gave in. She was right. I needed the money, and it really wouldn’t be that bad.

I hoped.

“Fine. But you’re helping me box up all the important stuff I own, and you’re helping me sanitize the place when I get back.”

“Deal. Now, are you doing this or what? One click, and your place is officially available on Shared Space.”

She lifted a brow again with her finger hovering over the keyboard. One touch and my life would be officially exposed to strangers.

I nodded, quickly squeezed my eyes shut, and turned my head. I couldn’t watch.

Seconds later, I heard Simone’s overtly amused voice, and my laptop close. “Done. Now, we wait.”