Page 71 of Snow Globe Secrets

“It’s going to be a long week,” was my only reply as I squeezed him once more, kissed his cheek, and went to clean off in the bathroom.

A video showed up on the text chain not long after I returned.

The next morning, Marty and I groaned over our eggs, waiting for pain pills to kick in. My phone chimed with a text.

“Don’t you ever take a break? You’re as bad as Steph,” he said as we sat at his kitchen table, him eating a leisurely breakfast, me shoveling mine in quickly so I could get back upstairs and hide behind my laptop. Steph was already in her office working, and Austin had not yet surfaced. Marty and I were both a little worse for wear, nursing hangovers.

The Excuse: Morning, sunshine. Ohh, sorry, poor choice of words. I hope the thought of bright lights isn’t making your hangover worse. I assume you’re hung over, or have your superpowers kicked in?

I could feel the silly smile on my face and decided it would really be best if I didn’t run into the man himself. I replied.

The Stranger: Superpower=pain reliever

He reacted to that one with a laughing emoji.

The Stranger: Good morning, sweetheart

Austin reacted with a red-heart emoji, and I almost dropped my phone. Even Marty noticed my change in demeanor. I really needed to escape and maybe meditate so I wouldn’t act like an idiot around Marty and Steph over the next few days. Could I learn how to meditate online?

I was just about to slink back to the guest room with the excuse that I had some work to do when Austin bounded down the stairs and found us, looking adorably tousled in sleeping pants and a wrinkled T-shirt.

“Good morning, you two.” He chuckled. He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked toward us, kissing his dad on the top of the head and squeezing my shoulder.

“Fun night, huh?” Was it wrong for me to describe his tone as condescending?

We both grunted.

“It’s Christmas Eve, Dad. Don’t you need to get to the Three B’s soon?”

Austin didn’t sit with us, instead heading to the family room adjacent to the kitchen nook where we were sitting. He went straight to the Christmas tree to turn the lights on before sitting down on a couch that faced us.

Marty looked at me. “We open for lunch on Christmas Eve. You're welcome to hang out at the bar and have a few drinks. Stephanie will kill me if you eat too much; she and Austin will have a feast for us when we return. You should come with me, though; otherwise, I know you, you’ll stay in that guest room and work all morning. We’ve got some time for you to check your email or whatever before we go.”

“Translation,” Austin contributed, leaning forward, his coffee cup wrapped in both hands where they hung between his legs. “You two have to get out of this house and out of our way so we can cook.” His tone changed to a fake whisper as if he were keeping a secret from Martin. His eyes absolutely sparkled as he looked at me. It felt like mine were too.

“Dad is not allowed in the kitchen on holidays. It may be the whole reason we opened a restaurant. To get him out of the house.”

“Okay, alright. That’s enough. I know when I’m not wanted. You’ll come with me, right, Randy?”

Martin snapped off a bite of bacon and continued with his mouth full. I really had missed my friend and found myself smiling at fond memories as much as I was smiling at Austin. I tried to convince myself that Christmas Eve wasn't the day to be fretting over our dilemma.

Mouth full, Marty continued. “You’ve spent more time on that computer of yours or on your phone than with me since you got here.” Not true, I thought, and I could feel myself blushing. “If whoever you’ve been texting with really cares about you, he might appreciate it if you take some time off work.”

Austin appeared to choke on his coffee. He patted his chest. “Wrong pipe,” he muttered, his eyes going wide my way when his dad wasn’t looking.

“Speaking of your mystery man, are you really going to stick around for New Year’s Eve, or do you have better plans?”

Don’t look at Austin, my brain screamed. My eyes didn’t get the message, and I was looking more at him than his father when I said, “New Year’s Eve at the beach sounds really lovely. I was planning to stay, unless you’re kicking me out, Mart?”

“Really lovely,” Martin mimicked. “I can hear that accent of yours, Randy.”

“Right?” Austin muttered into his coffee as I spoke over him to say, “Come on, Marty, not you, too!”

“Me, too?”

Austin and I exchanged another deer-in-the-headlights stare before I turned to Martin. Unfortunately, I think he caught it because he began looking back and forth between us.

“Let’s just say, you’re not the only person to think I’ve picked up a British accent.”