Morgan's POV
"Morgan Valentine, you are coming back home for Christmas this year! Do you hear me!? No more excuses." I heard my mom reprimand me over the phone.
I sighed.
"I'm not sure if I can—"
"You can and you will! Six Christmases, that's how many you have missed while excusing yourself with work. So if you don't come this year Morgan... help me god you won't have to bother coming around home anymore."
Was my mom seriously threatening me with not welcoming more at home if I missed to go back for Christmas this year? I don't think she's serious but I don't really want to try her either... and I guess it's fair that she's upset with me over possibly missing Christmas — again.
"I will be there on Thursday, okay?"
"Excellent! I'm going to tell your dad so he can arrange your room." My mom said excitedly.
"What happened to my room?" I raised a brow.
"Nothing... I'll talk to you later sweetie!" With that she hung up before I could ask anything more.
I guess I'm going back to Jerome.
My mom seemed to be done with my six years of made up excuses and now I'm being forced to come back. It's not like I haven't seen them in all that time... they did come over once for Christmas when I was living in California—Silicon Valley a few years ago, maybe because it was warmer down there —but since I came back to Chicago last year they didn't and we spent the holidays apart.
The air out here in the terrace was getting colder and I had left my coat inside in my office so I might as well enter before I freeze.
"Your mom?" Michael asked me from his desk.
"You know it, she just made accept to go back home for the holidays." I sat on his desk and played with the small earth globe he had on it.
"Well you make it sound like it's something so horrible."
"It's not, I love my family, it's just that— that town is terribly boring and I'm now supposed to stay there from before Thanksgiving till after New Year." I expressed my complaints to my friend.
"It's not like your lonely apartment is going to miss you."
I glared at him, "What's wrong with my apartment? It's a great place."
He shrugged.
"It is pretty amazing since, you know, it's hella expensive and luxurious but what I mean is that is not homey at all. Last time I went to your house all you had in the refrigerator was a six pack of beers and cans of monster, like, do you even cook?"
"Monsters are too fucking good, what do you want me to do?"
"Have something else but that in the fridge maybe! Do you pee fire or some shit? Because your diet is basically monster and hot flame cheetos." Michael said matter-of-fact.
"Well I don't know how to cook!"
He gave me a deadpanned look, "Morgan, you're a twenty six year old with the diet of a thirteen year old boy."
"I order take out as well!" I reasoned.
"All this is even more reason of why you should go back home, you can finally eat some real home made food."
I rolled my eyes.
"I don't even know if Elizabeth is going to let me off work for what is nearly two months."
