Hello people! Happy Holidays!

This is a short holiday fic I'm posting daily from Christmas Day until New Year's Eve, and it's my end of year gift to Team Momo.
I gave them all a break for this one, and left the red pen to Midnight Cougar.

But this goes out to Team Momo, and without them my stories wouldn't exist: hats off to Alice's White Rabbit, AGoodWitch, Driving Edward, Mel, Maplestyle, and Eternally Addicted.

Time to hear from Bella today!

Chapter 5

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas"

Mid-December

~~Bella~~

After Thanksgiving, time passes at warp speed.

Angela's been bombarding me with meeting requests, which isn't unusual per se. Only, as a rule, she respects my need for space when I'm researching a new book or series. At the fourth hissy message she leaves on my voicemail, I know I can't hold her off any more. It's time to call her back.

"Fucking finally," she snarls into the phone.

She's lucky I had downtime this morning.

With barely two weeks to Christmas, my standing weekly lunch with Rose turned into a lunch and shopping session combo. We always meet for lunch on Fridays because Em doesn't book clients after noon, so he's free to stay home with Lily.

"I'm in your neighborhood." Poking the bear may not be a stellar idea, but Ang is a friend. Plus, I'm curious why she's been hounding me.

"You're on your way to lunch, aren't you?"

"Correct. Now, Mrs. Cheney, where's the fire? You left me more angsty messages this week than an emo teenager. I don't know whether to be annoyed or intrigued."

She snorts. "Intrigued, if you know what's good for you. Look, are you and Rose having lunch at the usual place? I have a gap in my schedule; I'll join you. Unless you two have secrets to share behind my back."

I chuckle, making my way into the restaurant. The hostess is about to address me, but I point to my phone and silently beg for her patience. "Your timing's perfect, I just got here. I'll grab a table for three. Reservation for—"

"Cullen. Yeah, yeah."

One thing that hasn't changed with Ang over the years? She still hangs up the phone without warning.

"Good afternoon, Chelsea. How's the day so far?"

"Hello, Mrs. Cullen. Two today, right?"

This girl knows how to do her job. Well, that and we're very good customers. This place has a no cell phone policy, hence our choice. It's more relaxing to sit and gossip with friends when there's a reasonable chance we won't end up on TMZ later.

"Make that three, actually."

"That will not be a problem," she replies, updating her seating chart. "Follow me, please."

Rose arrives five minutes later, and so does Ang.

"Hi, people. Right on time for the pitcher of mimosa I just ordered."

"Nice to see you haven't become completely useless, even if you've lost the ability to return my calls." Angela won't let me live this one down any time soon.

Rose shakes her head, smirking at Angela's antics. "Do you ever slow down?" she asks, as they take their seats.

"No, and that's why your friend and her renegade of a husband pay me the big bucks."

"Can't argue with that. Sorry, BeeBee. You lost me at big bucks."

I roll my eyes. "I'm surrounded by mercenaries. So, what's shaking?"

Rose is about to answer, but Ang pre-empts her. "Wait a minute. Let me get business shit out of the way. Sorry about that, Rose."

Rose waves her away, and because the server comes along with our mimosas and appetizers, Ang waits for her to leave before she speaks again.

"I know I've been a pain in the ass, B. But this is massive."

I throw a cursory look around the dining room—nobody's paying attention to us. It's easy to blend into the background in this city if you know where to go.

Ang knows I'm captive audience by this point and continues. "I've received a serious manifestation of interest for the filming rights to your Partnership Track series."

That was the name Vic and I had concocted for my workplace romance trilogy when all three books were published as an omnibus after the third novel's release.

"Filming rights again. Ang? I've heard too many horror stories—"

"And Vic has been collecting success stories for years. Won't you trust the two of us not to do you dirty, B? I haven't even told you what the studio is proposing."

Rose pats my forearm with her hand, and her expression says it all. "This could be a huge game-changer. Why don't you listen? You can always say no later."

With a sigh, I relent. I trust Ang and Vic implicitly, and I know they wouldn't let me take a bad deal. "I'm protective of my work."

"Then we'll negotiate shit to make sure they don't butcher it. But when HBO comes knocking, there's only one possible answer."

I manage to retrieve my jaw off the floor, but our conversation stops short again—the server's back.

"Ladies, time for fresh drinks here, perhaps? Also, have we decided on any entrees?"

Rose and Ang rattle off their drinks and food order, while I dither over the options. I have a few familiar favorites at this place, but they're all on the spicy side.

"Your usual shawarma, BeeBee?" Rose prods.

"Not today," I answer, my frown deepening. "This stomach flu or bug or whatever the heck it is won't quit, so I'd rather have something bland that won't have me hugging the toilet tomorrow morning."

Rose raises her blonde eyebrow at me, but doesn't comment otherwise. When the server leaves, she catches up, though. "Have you heard from Alice since Thanksgiving?"

"Nope. Radio silence." Thinking back to that day isn't easy. It took all of my forbearance not to explode in Alice's face.

"Gee, the contrarian disappeared quickly, didn't she?"

Angela's puzzled face telegraphs her next comment. "What the fuck happened?"

Rose does a good job of giving her a quick rundown of the whole thing, and eventually, Ang whistles. "Foot meet mouth. Big time." Then she turns toward me. "I can't believe you didn't, I don't know—"

"What was I supposed to tell her? Yes, you're being a self-centered bitch, but since it's the holidays we'll give you a pass?"

Rose scoffs. "Wouldn't have hurt."

"I meant what I said. At the end of the day, it's her choice."

"It's still insensitive as fuck that she made it all about her," Rose counters.

"We're friends, Rosebud. I thought we agreed on no judgment."

She shrugs. "Yeah, well. I woke up petty this morning. So, sue me. It kills me that she said that to your face. And she never asks how you and Edward are doing with it."

I shake my head, chuckling. "We're dealing, what can I say? That my damn eggs are hard-boiled by this point? Sometimes laughing about it is the only way I have to make sense of it."

She grasps my hand, squeezing it tenderly. She's been where I am.

Ang, on the other hand, listens without commenting. Detached, almost—but I can see her reactions simmering below the surface. She's barely holding it in.

Our chat goes into twelve other directions after the server delivers our entrees, and I'm left to eat my way through the blandest thing I could find on an Indian restaurant's menu. But as I chew on my jasmine rice, I can't help but dwell on Ang's news.

HBO. Damn. That'd be huge. And I still don't know what they're offering.

By the time we're done with our food, the server, who knows me, automatically brings our end-of-meal drinks. But something's not right.

"Ugh." Roiling, relentless nausea creeps its way up to my mouth. Steamed rice is about to make a repeat appearance.

"What's wrong, B?" Ang asks.

I point to the steaming mug the server just deposited in front of me. "That thing stinks to high heaven."

Right then, her ever-present phone rings. And yes, Ang doesn't give a fuck for this place's phone policy. "I gotta go. Another fire to put out in the office. This one's on me, ladies."

We barely have time to thank her before she disappears.

"You still look like you're about to hurl, Bella. That's your usual Earl Grey. What's the matter with it?"

"I don't know, Rose. But it's stinky. And it does make me want to hurl."

Her expression turns pensive, calculating. "Umm. The stomach flu that won't quit, Em's cologne that smells like shit, you eat white basmati rice and a whiff of your drink of choice turns you greener than kale. Something's not right here, girl."

"I'm so sick of this. When will it end?"

Crossing her arms on her chest, she levels me a skeptical look. "You really aren't putting two and two together?"

"Uh? No, I'm not. What the fuck do you mean?"

"When did these symptoms start?" she asks, after throwing another glance around us.

The lunch crowd is dissipating, and this area of the restaurant is nearly empty. Fewer chances of being overheard.

"After …" I start thinking, counting on my fingers. Then I grab my phone and look at my period tracker. "Oh. OH! I can't … it can't … Will it?"

"Breathe, sister. Breathe. We need to adjust our shopping route a little bit. I know just the thing," she says softly.

Her gentle smile and her wink give me a boost of hope I haven't felt in months. But I don't allow myself to feel this … anticipation.

Not yet.

When Bella starts hating Earl Grey, something must be really WRONG ... or really RIGHT?