Laureen believed exhaustion was a personality trait.
After thirty-six hours at the hospital, it clung to him like a second skin—heavy behind the eyes, tight in the shoulders, buzzing in the bones. He kicked the door shut with his heel, dropped his keys into the bowl by habit, and didn't even bother removing his coat. The couch was calling. Loudly.
He took three steps into the living room and stopped dead.
Fairy lights were strung across his ceiling. Not delicately—aggressively. Red and gold tinsel wrapped around his bookshelf. A small artificial tree leaned drunkenly in the corner, already half-decorated.
Laureen blinked once. Then twice.
"Am I hallucinating?" he muttered. "Because I have had worse shifts, but never this creative."
"Surprise!"
Laura popped up from behind the couch, grinning like she'd just committed a felony. She wore a Christmas sweater that read Jingle All the Way, complete with bells that jingled when she moved.
"Why," Laureen said slowly, carefully, "is my house… festive?"
"Because it's December," Laura replied brightly. "And because you never decorate."
"That is not a crime."
"It is when you suck the joy out of the season."
Before he could respond, Brody emerged from the kitchen holding a clipboard and a mug that was unmistakably Laureen's.
"Operation Christmas Cheer is officially underway," Brody announced.
Laureen stared at him. "Put my mug down."
Brody took a sip. "No."
Laureen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am going to lie down. When I wake up, you will both be gone."
Laura stepped directly into his path. "Actually, we need to talk."
He groaned. "If this is about a party, the answer is no."
Brody flipped a page on the clipboard. "It is about a party."
"No."
"At your place."
"No."
"In twelve days."
"Still no."
Laura clasped her hands dramatically. "Laureen, you haven't had a proper Christmas in years. You work nonstop, you eat hospital food on holidays, and you fall asleep to medical journals. It's depressing."
"It's efficient."
"It's sad."
He tried to sidestep her. She blocked him.
"I don't have time," he said. "I'm on call. I have night shifts. Emergencies don't stop because it's Christmas."
Brody nodded sympathetically. "True. But joy also exists."
"I am immune to it."
Laura sighed, then casually added, "Oh, and Bianca will be there."
Laureen froze.
The exhaustion vanished—replaced by something sharp and electric.
Bianca.
Laura's best friend. The girl with the warm smile and the soft laugh. The woman who once showed up at his place unannounced and accidentally walked in on him changing.
The woman he had been very deliberately avoiding ever since.
Laureen exhaled slowly. "When is this party?"
Laura's grin was instant. "Twelve days."
He closed his eyes. "Fine."
Laura screamed in victory. Brody fist-pumped.
Laureen trudged toward the couch, already regretting everything.
Christmas had come early.
And it was going to ruin his life.