Chapter 28: Santa’s Baby: Chapter 27

My heart lurches when I see Tiffany’s stunning red hair in the doorway of Belgravia’s West tower. Her bobble hat has gone, but she’s still in her elf outfit.

I stare out at her through the car window as I slump in my sad sack of a Santa costume, minus the cushions and fake beard. I feel exhausted, both physically and mentally, my emotional weight lying heavy in the pit of my stomach. It’s been a long afternoon with Bry and Castian. I never imagined such a serious showdown would take place in the mall grotto – but the curvy, happy elf bursting in on us sealed the deal. And sealed our fate along with it.

The reality smashed in as loudly as Tiffany’s snow globe when it hit the floor.

I’m about to get out of the car until I see the two other figures marching out of the tower after her, clearly in opposition. I recognise them both, Holly and Weston, or Ella and Josh. Two other entertainers on the Agency hardcore list, and Tiff’s best friends. I already know the charitable soul that is Ella, and Tiffany has told me plenty about the incredible Josh. And from the way Josh is pointing back at the tower as he argues with her raised hand, I’m almost certain she has told them plenty about me, too.

I take a breath and force myself to stay in my seat. Entering the forbidden realm of personal engagement with Agency staff is a crime I’ve committed once already. The last thing I want is to drag any other people down with Tiff and me.

They don’t deserve it. Neither did she.

“I’ll let you know when I’m D&S okay?” I hear her tell Josh as they get closer. “I know you love me, and want to protect me, and want to punch him in the face or whatever, and I’d do the same if I was you.”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?!” He shrugs, clearly exasperated as his girlfriend takes his arm, trying to calm him.

“Because YOU would do the same as ME if the roles were reversed. I wouldn’t be able to stop you from going, either.”

I stare at his expression, watching as her words sink in. She’s got him. She folds her arms and he shrugs again.

I’ve never been a man to wade into drama, I despise it. I was always the calm boy in the school yard. But sitting here and watching Tiff battle Josh’s resistance alone would make me nothing more than a coward.

All three of them look my way as I climb out of the driver’s seat.

I must look like a wreck as I approach them, hardly the multimillionaire founder they expected in the Belgravia courtyard.

“Ella,” I say, and tip my head. She smiles at me – no malice there, at least.

But as for Josh, his face is a picture of hatred as I meet his eyes.

“Why the fuck did you get her caught up in this shit?” he asks me. “Now look at her.”

He gestures to poor Tiffany, whose cheeks are swollen from tears, eyes red from crying. My heart pangs to see her pain.

“He didn’t get me caught up in this shit,” she says to him. “It was me who rocked up at the grotto, Josh. It’s my fault.”

I shake my head at that.

“No, Tiffany, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” I look at Josh. “I apologise, and take full accountability for my actions. I assure you, there will be a done and safe from Tiffany when we’ve resolved things. She isn’t going to come to any harm.”

His eyes dig into mine, and I get why he’s such an asset to the business. The guy is stunning, with his perfectly unkempt dark hair with a streak of purple. It’s clear why people pay thousands for him. Just as they do with the gothic goddess, Ella.

“You’re going to bring her back here, are you?” he says. “Not force her out of her home and shift her away from the city somewhere. I know how powerful you are, even in a fucking Santa suit.”

“Stop it, Josh!” Tiff snaps. “If you know how powerful he is, then keep your trap shut and head back upstairs, for Ella’s sake as well as yours!”

He flinches as she says Ella’s name, and I see the pain of the conflict. He wants to protect his best friend, and would do so at the cost of himself, but as for his girlfriend.

“I’ll be fine,” Tiff says. “I’ll see you later, alright? I’ll D&S when I’m finished. I’ll come to yours.”

He glares at me once more before he heeds Ella’s tug on his arm and steps away.

“Don’t fuck her over any more than you already have done,” he says. “Don’t use your founder power to turf her out of her home. She belongs here. With us.”

“I won’t be using my founder power to abuse Tiffany, Josh. She’ll be fine to send you a message whenever she wants to.”

He doesn’t say alright before he walks away. Sweet Ella gives me a wave and I raise a hand in return as she leads her boyfriend back to the tower, leaving a broken looking Tiffany standing before me, with her arms still folded across her chest.

“Get in the car,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Wherever we need to go to talk. I was thinking my place.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Your place? Are we safe to go there?”

I smile at her, such a beautiful princess in her vulnerability. I hold out my hand.

“You’re safe, Tiffany. Come along, please, before your best friend comes charging back out again. He might be bringing a machete with him next time.”

She smiles. “Yeah, he’s, um… protective. It’s cool. Usually.”

“Yes, it is.”

It’s a relief to have her in the passenger seat as I pull the car out of the courtyard. I drove straight here from the mall, hoping this would be where I found her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I had no idea, Reuben. I should have noticed, or checked, and been more careful before I barged into the grotto. I should never have flaunted myself around the place as an elf. I should’ve stayed out of sight, and not cancelled the founders’ proposal, and kept some common fucking sense about me.”

“And so should I. The blame is not on your shoulders. It’s all on mine.”

“No, it isn’t.” She shakes her head. “No, no, no. I’m the one who goofed up, over a snow globe. A fucking snow globe.”

“It was already goofed up, Tiff. They were at the mall for a reason.”

“Probably because I cancelled the bastard proposal!”

“Because I asked you to, and I was the one who postponed every one of your others and ignored the founders’ thread. I was in the position of authority, not you.”

I hate how she sucks in a breath, staring out of the window as we head through London.

“They’ve taken my Agency account away.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.”

This conversation could go around in circles, spiralling around over who is to blame for what, so I stay silent for a few minutes, focusing on getting us back to my place. This isn’t the location to delve deep into the who, whats and whys. I hate how Tiffany has taken the burden like a wrecking ball. All I want to do is hold her tight, but I daren’t touch her. Not after what I’ve done this afternoon.

It wouldn’t be fair.

She’s still silent sobbing when we pull up in my driveway. She rushes to the door with her head down, as though we’re under surveillance. Maybe we would be, if Bry and Cas hadn’t been appeased by my words.

“You can relax now,” I say once the door is closed behind us. I take off my stupid Santa coat and hang it up.

“Relax? Yeah, right.” She kicks off her shoes. “Hardly the time for some yoga and incense.”

Even now, I adore her dark humour.

She walks through to the kitchen, plonking herself on her regular breakfast stool. It’s so bizarre. When we were here this morning, we were glowing happy. Loved up and excited for the day ahead. The memory feels so far away now, like a lifetime has passed. And in a way, I suppose it has.

“Coffee? Juice?”

“Just water, please. I might throw up if I drink anything else.” I get a fresh pang of horror as she wipes her tears away. “Come on, Reuben, get it over with. What do I have to do now? Move out of Belgravia? Fuck off to a cottage by the sea somewhere like I’m in a witness protection program?”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

She cracks a sad grin. “Yeah, you know me. I am a bit dramatic. But still, I know you lot don’t take this kind of bullshit lightly. I recognised the guy from Westminster. They must want me out and gone.”

I hand over her glass of water, and she pulls her stool away from me as I take a seat. The distance feels horrible.

“I can handle it,” she says. “Just put me out of my misery. Tell me what the fuck is going to happen to me. I’m done at the Agency, I know that, and I’m done with you, since they must have given you a right fucking kicking for it, but what else? What else do they want me to do?”

I wait until her eyes meet mine before I speak.

“I’m sorry about your profile being removed,” I say. “I know it must have been devastating for you.”

“Yeah, just a bit. I’m smashed up worse than the bastard snow globe.” Her lip trembles fresh, and I get it.

I’ve seen how many clients she’s taken on, and how well her performances have been starred. How hard she’s worked, how much she’s earnt, how much she’s enjoyed it. I know it must cut like a knife to have your world pulled out from under you, when you’ve built your life around it for four years straight.

She wipes some fresh tears away. “Ah, fuck it. It’s done now.”

“No,” I tell her. “It isn’t. You can have your profile back, under close scrutiny. Orla is aware of the situation, and will be vigilant on exactly which proposals you are taking on and when.” I pause. “There will be no more proposals with the founders, but you can work with your current clients, so long as you agree to a very hefty non-disclosure agreement.”

Her eyes widen.

“You what? I can still be Creamgirl?”

I nod. “Yes. I assured the others that there was no malice or ill doing on your part. They know you are a valuable asset.”

She tenses up, uncertain.

“Sounds a bit weird to me. What’s the deal with that? They just let me waltz back in with a slap on the wrist?”

I clear my throat. “Not quite, no. It will be on the condition that you never see me again. No contact via the Agency, no contact via business, or the mall. You’ll be expected to keep at least a mile’s distance from this place and any other of my properties, and there will be no leniency.”

I watch the simultaneous clash of her relief and horror as she braces herself on the breakfast bar.

“That’s, um, cool, I guess. Thank you. For saving my career.”

If only she knew how hard I’d had to fight for it. Plead for it. Take all of the blame on my shoulders.

“It’s cool, is it?”

“Yeah. I really appreciate it. I thought me and Creamgirl were done. Jesus Christ.” She slaps a hand on her chest. “Fucking hell, Reuben, I owe you the world. I really thought Cream was a goner. I thought I’d be spat out like a piece of shit.”

“You want to go back to being Creamgirl, then?” I take out my phone and place it on the countertop between us. “I can let Orla know and she’ll press the button.”

Her eyes dig into mine.

“What choice do I have? I’ve lost you, so at least I get to keep her. Thank you. Honestly.” Another lip tremble. “I’m sure you’ve had way more of a bollocking than I’ll get. It’s all come crashing down over a stupid snow globe, but it was going to happen at some point. I broke the rules, and now I have to pay for it. We both do.”

She’s still blaming herself. I see the wounds under her brash exterior, so raw.

“There is a choice,” I say. “You can either take your position back at the Agency and never see me again, or you can resign from your role.”

“Resign from my role and what? Move away?” She scoffs. “Fancy living in a beach hut with me? We can elope together.”

“It’s your choice, Tiff. Creamgirl with the conditions attached, or resignation.”

“And what about you? You just go on with the Agency regardless? Don’t worry, you can always pretend it’s me under the hood, even if they don’t have the ass for it.”

I grit my teeth at that. Her brashness trying to play things down.

“I don’t want Ella under a hood, and I don’t want Harlot under a hood. I don’t want any of the entertainers under a hood, actually. Not anymore. What I do want, is you.” My eyes pierce hers. “If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be in this situation, and you wouldn’t have such a choice to make right now. But the choice won’t be there long, Tiffany. Orla is expecting a yes or a no within the hour.”

Tiff looks confused. “You’ve got conditions too, I guess. You aren’t allowed to see me?”

“Founders aren’t allowed to engage personally with entertainers, no. That’s a fundamental rule.”

“Yeah, so we’re fucked anyway, if you’re not allowed to engage with me. I may as well be Creamgirl.”

“May as well be, or want to be?”

“Does it make any difference?”

My stare doesn’t break. “Yes, it does. Because if either of us stay at the Agency, our encounters will be forbidden. Hence, I’m asking you, do you want to continue being Creamgirl?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Wait a minute. I’ve got to choose between my career and you? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, it is.”

She twists on her stool. “And what happens to you? You have to choose between the Agency and me?”

“Indeed.”

She gives another scoff. “Fucking hell, Reuben. That’s a done deal, then. That’s got to be worth fucking millions. MILLIONS. And the associations. And everything along with it. Don’t worry, I’ll stay away and carry on being Creamgirl. You don’t need to feel guilty about it.”

My emotions want to burst out of my chest, and it’s so at odds with the man I’ve been for years. I love power. Self-restraint. The safety of being in control. But this woman in front of me has taken so much of it away from me. She’s stolen my heart and my sanity.

“This has nothing to do with guilt,” I say. “Do you want to carry on being Creamgirl, or do you want to let her go?”

It feels as though we are at a poker table, hedging the bets.

“You’re phrasing that weirdly on purpose,” she says, and locks me with her sparkling eyes. “What you’re really asking is, do I want to be Creamgirl more than I want to be with you. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you’re asking?”

Her words give me shivers. The sword over my head feels precarious.

I remember Jeanette leaving. I remember telling myself I would never be so exposed to heartache again. Until the curvy goddess in front of me came into my life.

“What is it you really want?” I ask her. “Not just with Creamgirl, but with life.”

She stiffens up. “Like the future, future? Do I look like a married with kids kind of girl?”

There’s a knife edge in her voice. Defensive.

“You look like you could be. Because that’s what I want, Tiff. I want to close the door on the past and live for my own self for once. Not out of power or success or charity, but because of me. I want to be married again, to a married with kids kind of woman.” I take a breath before the admission. “And I want that woman to be you.”

She raises her eyebrows. Gobsmacked.

“Are you for real?!”

“I’ve never been more for real in my life.”

“You’re serious? You want me to be a married with kids kind of girl, with you?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying, yes. I’ve been very careful with risk taking until you burst into the grotto, but since then, things have changed. I’ve changed. Remember those fated words? I need you?” My insides swirl. “I wasn’t lying, Tiff.”

“Whoa, fuck. Just whoa.”

She looks like she’s about to fall off her chair, as though the idea is absurd.

“But I also appreciate how much passion you have for Creamgirl and the Agency. I understand how passionate you are about your career, and I’ll respect that.”

My goddess blows out a breath and it’s as if a huge weight has been lifted, not just from her shoulders, but mine, too. I feel it as she smiles at me.

“It’s not much of a question then, is it?” She reaches for my phone on the countertop and shoves it towards me. “Bye bye, Creamgirl, I had fun while it lasted.”

My world starts tilting on its axis.

“That’s a yes? You want to resign?”

“Yeah, of course I do, but do you? For real? You’ll give up millions and a shit ton of prestige and backhanders and associates because of a curvy whore you only really met a few weeks ago?”

I smile at her as I pick up my phone.

“I already have.”

“You have what?! Stepped down from the Agency?”

I nod. “Yes. I have stepped down from the Agency.”

The look of pure disbelief on her face is a picture I’ll remember for ever.

“That’s fucking crazy, Reuben! It’s mental! What the fuck?!”

With that she leaps from the stool and throws herself at me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her tits pressed tight to my chest as I hold my elf girl tight.

“I didn’t tell you, because I wanted the decision to be yours,” I say. “I wanted to know you felt the same way.”

Tiffany kisses me like I’m a hero, holding my face as though I’m a saviour from the Lord above.

“Creamgirl can fuck right off now for all I care,” she says. “Not only do I want to be Santa’s baby. I want to have Santa’s baby. Buckle up, Daddy, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

I fire off a simple no to Orla before my phone is abandoned at the table. I’ve no time left for the Agency, or the politics, or the intricacies of Tiffany’s official verdict. I’m far too concerned with making a baby with my baby.

I finally shut my past behind me, and soak in the wonder of Tiffany. Just Tiffany. No Creamgirl left in sight.

“One last thing…” I reach into my suit jacket pocket and pull out what’s left of the snow globe, just Santa, on his sleigh seat, with the naked chubby girl bouncing on his lap. “It really could be us,” I say, “our worlds we knew have been shattered, yet here we are, still together.”

“Wow,” Tiff says as she takes it from me. “I guess we have ourselves a perfect tree topper.”

I chuckle. “Good idea. We need a tree first, though.”

“Come on, Reuben,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Let’s get upstairs and make my big belly a bit bigger, as soon as we fucking can. The tree can wait.”