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Gah! I stomp into the closest bakery, needing to gorge my sorrows on sugar. “One second, guys,” I tell the reindeer, leaving them on the sidewalk, much to the curiosity of random passersby.
The bakery is a cheery sort of place, despite the fact that it’s yellow and pink color scheme feels all wrong. I miss my kitchen. That’s where I belong, not out scouring the realms to collect ingredients for stupid Christmas canes.
I feel tears gather in the corner of my eyes, and I blink them back quickly, determined not to cry.
I spot some creme brûlée, a desert I love but rarely make because Dad doesn’t really like it. I point at the dessert and sniff, fighting off a good self-pity sob.
The guy behind the counter gives me a smile. He’s clean-cut and young, his hair cropped close to his head. He’s not breathtaking, but his smile is sweet and sincere, which I really need after this incredibly difficult day.
“Good choice,” the bakery guy says, opening the back of the display case and sliding a mini creme brûlée into a plastic dessert container before snapping it shut. It’s not until the guy moves to the register that I realize I don’t have any human money.
The sobs that I was holding back start up with a vengeance. They’re loud and horrifying, manifesting all of my worry about Dad and the cherubs and the workshop. People outside probably think that I’m insane.
The bakery guy hurries around the counter with the treat. “Miss, are you okay?”
I shake my head and swipe at my eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I don’t have any money.”
“Shhh, it’s all right. It’s all right.” He rubs a comforting hand up and down my back. “This will be on the house.”
Awww. How sweet! I mop up my eyes, making sure they’re completely dry, because a thank you smile that’s halfway to a sob is pretty pathetic.
A crash against the door makes us both jerk up and turn in surprise. Comet’s antlers are pressed against the glass, and he’s craned his neck to look in.
Shoot. He must have heard me crying and thought I was getting hurt.
“Holy shit!” bakery guy exclaims.
I glance at his name tag and read “Ben.” That’s a nice name.
Ben leans back from me and runs a hand over his cropped hair. “I gotta call animal control!”
“No! Don’t! Please!” I shoot towards him, my face now precariously close to Ben’s. “He’s with me.” I totally forgot that humans don’t just walk around town with animals all the time. In Christmas Village, everyone uses reindeer. It’s the fad, as the kids these days say
Yes, I’m still in my twenties, but that doesn’t make me a kid. Shut up.
“What?” Confusion is scribbled across the poor guy’s features as he glances between me and Comet.
“We’re…part of a Christmas exhibit,” I lie, thinking quickly. “But, um, my boyfriend broke up with me. Called me a bad kisser in front of everyone!”
Ben’s eyes widen, and I can tell he believes me, which only feeds this little lie monster inside of me.
I gesture wildly with my box of dessert in one hand. “Yeah, even my dad heard. It was the most humiliating experience of my entire life! I never want to see him again.” I finish with a dramatic head turn, staring down and to the side like movie stars always do during their intense scenes.
“What an asshole!” Ben exclaims.
I force out a little laugh, pleased when my tight throat makes it breaks so I sound truly heartbroken. I could move to Earth and win an Oscar.
Maybe. If I pull this off. Because, suddenly, I have a plan. I’m getting that joy magic, dammit, or my name’s not Joy.
I fake swipe at my eyes as if they aren’t completely dry now. Then I stare plaintively up at Ben. “Will you tell me if I’m a bad kisser?”
“What?”
He’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.
“Would you kiss me and tell me if it’s true?” I beg.
“I…uh…I…”
