Her Pretend Christmas Date: A Lesbian Christmas Romance

It was better in college. Lots of people were into doing all sorts of things and cared far less about what anyone else was doing with their own life or what anyone thought about them. She’d had a few shitty jobs before she landed the one she was at now.

She used that layer of protective padding she’d built up just about every single day. Not because people had an issue with who she did and didn’t find attractive, but because being an artist in a fast-paced, competitive, slightly cutthroat arena was tough.

She’d wanted to be a photographer since she was little. She always said that’s what she was going to do, ever since she’d picked up a disposable camera of her mom’s. She’d hated the many times her mom nagged her about settling down and having a family. She loved her career. She was satisfied with it.

So, what was the sudden empty hole inside herself that she could no longer deny? If Laney had hung her head out of the moving car’s window and opened her mouth and gulped in a bunch of the bracing night air, she couldn’t have felt more hollow.

Was that why she was pulling up in front of the older apartment building? Morgun’s building? Or was it just because she felt bad about how their night ended and it was Christmas, and Christmas was made for peace and warmth, not anger and regret?

She told herself she just wanted to talk to Morgun. To apologize for hurting her with those layers and that gruffness she felt she had to maintain. She didn’t want to just send a message. That was too informal and cold and exactly what Morgun probably thought she’d try to do, if she gave Laney that much credit at all.

She shouldn’t have been surprised at herself. Laney knew she didn’t make impetuous decisions. She’d thought about apologizing for the past few days. It was distracting. It made her feel hollow inside, like she had air bubbles in her blood, and she needed to make it right.

That’s why she was here, digging out the leftover food she’d been sent home with as some sort of peace offering.

It was just an apology.

Because Laney did care, even if she pretended and acted otherwise. Even with the bullshit layers and the persona she’d built up in order to survive.

Once she was at the door, she debated about turning around and getting back in her car, but she’d never been a coward and she wasn’t going to back out now. She was here. She’d driven all this way. She knew it was the right thing to do.

Morgun probably wasn’t even home, Laney reminded herself. The chances of her answering the door were slim. She’d ring the buzzer, say she tried, get back in her car, and send a message in apology and that would be good enough. She could then put Morgun far out of her mind and not think about her again.

What about that hollow space? Are you going to not think about that again too?

Laney ignored that thought, balanced the containers of food in her left arm and hand, and pressed the buzzer with the right.

As she expected, there was no answer. She buzzed again but was met with silence. She shuffled her feet on the concrete step, re-balanced the container of mashed potatoes that was slipping through her arm, and tried one more time. Still nothing.

She blinked hard, tightened her arm around the other container of turkey and gravy, bit down her bottom lip until she tasted metal, then turned and headed back to her car.

Chapter 14

Morgun

After going through the usual interview-type questions, Morgun waited while David Wilkes, head of HR, folded up her portfolio and slid it across the table. He hadn’t interviewed her the first time. She was floored and honored that he’d taken the time to meet with her. He hadn’t sent someone else and that meant something to her, even if his current body language was giving off all sorts of energy that she wished she wasn’t interpreting correctly.

He was going to try to let her down gently. She could just tell it was coming.

David folded his hands neatly on the table. He was well groomed, probably in his early fifties. He had a large, athletic build which was still trim and the black suit he had on fit him impeccably, even if it wasn’t one of those suits that was tailor made or cost a couple grand. David’s salt and pepper hair was neatly cut, and he sported a beard that was trimmed and immaculate as well. He had dark, soft brown eyes that were too kind and sympathetic for someone in his position.

So when he sighed, Morgun knew.

“I have to say that I was intrigued when Laney Sterling sent your profile along to me. She’s a rare gem, refuses to give up control of any of her photos for editing unless we specifically ask her to. She’s worked for us for a few years now and we couldn’t be happier with the time and effort she’s put in. She’s never once recommended another photographer, so when she sent me your information, I took notice.”

“Uh, thank you?”

Morgun shifted nervously in her chair. It was soft leather, stiff and high backed, with wheels on the bottom. It matched the other ten chairs around a long oval table in a classy, tasteful boardroom with expensive art on the walls, huge windows, and whiteboards on the far end. A projector sat in the middle of the table. There were all sorts of cords wound up at the far end of the room. She could only guess at the creativity that went on in here. God, she wanted to be part of that. She wanted it so badly that she knew that when David finally said the words, they were going to sting worse than any wound or injury she’d ever had before.

“Your work is great. Beyond great. You’re very talented.”

“But…I’m not the right fit.” Morgun decided to spare David and just say the words herself.

His shoulders slumped inwards. “Look, Morgun. Can I give you some unsolicited and probably unwanted advice?”

“Sure.” She forced a smile because she knew David’s job couldn’t be easy. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time now. Nearly thirty years. I started at the bottom here and I’ve been at the top of HR for quite a while. I can’t count how many interviews I’ve given over the years. How many people I’ve hired, and, unfortunately, how many I’ve had to let go. I’d like to think that I have a good idea of the type of person who is a good fit for us. I know for a fact that you’re too nice. It’s not just the clients who would eat you alive, but some of your coworkers too. That’s not to say that we only hire mean people or condone workplace harassment of any sort. I just see you and I see what a nice, caring young woman you are. I looked through your website and your social media and you have a good thing going. You’re your own boss. There’s something to be said for that. I know that the market is oversaturated with photographers, since everyone thinks they can pick up a camera and that’s all that counts, but obviously not everyone can make a living at it. You’re doing that, even if it takes a while to get established. The grass isn’t always greener.”