Page 75 of Snow Globe Secrets

I wasn’t ready to address that. So instead, I asked, “Were you shocked?”

“No. I was shocked when I found his underpants in your jeans. After that,” she joked, “the shock sort of wore off.”

I put my hands over my face, the faint smell of garlic permeating. “Oh my God, Mom.” What had she said to Randall?

“Mom. Please tell me you didn’t scare him away this morning.”

She stopped what she was doing to stand in front of me, wiping her hands on her apron as I began to lower mine from in front of my face. She grabbed ahold of my wrists.

“He wouldn’t be the man I think he is, and that look wouldn’t have been what I thought it was, if I could scare him away that easily.”

“I know this is too new, and too soon, and very complicated, but he’s special, Mom.”

Her hand cupped my cheek for a brief moment. “I’m happy for you, Aus.” She gave me a gentle tap. “Now go wash those hands again. We don’t want the cookies tasting of garlic.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hours later, I was bounding down the stairs, freshly showered and buttoning my dress shirt, my hands softer than usual from all the butter I had worked with to bake up batches of Christmas cookies, Mom's watchful eyes on me as she prepared the fish and vegetables for Christmas Eve dinner.

“They should be back any minute,” she called out. “I haven’t heard from them, but Preston gave me the head’s up that they were …”

It was at that very moment that I cleared the last step, and the door in front of me swung open with gusto.

“Merry Christmas!” They had their arms wrapped around each other, the others held out wide, their faces flushed, from the cold, maybe, but also possibly from the hours they’d spent hanging out at a bar.

They couldn’t fit through the door with their arms splayed. This appeared to be an insurmountable challenge for them. Watching them arm in arm caused a small pang of jealousy to zip through me, but then I looked at Randall, really looked at him and not the drunken scene playing out before me. Those cupid arrows were aimed in only one direction—mine.

I chuckled and shook my head. “You two are either going to have to put your arms down or separate, possibly both if you want to make it through the door.”

Mom emerged from the kitchen. “Seriously, what’s going on out here?” she asked from the arched opening that connected that room and the dining room. “Oh, for the love of God, you two! I was about to pop the campaign, but I think it might be a bit too late for that. Close the fucking door and get in here, you two idiots.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” My dad finally let Randall go, motioning for him to enter first.

“She’s your honey, not me.” Randall laughed.

“Who did you think I was talking to?”

“I’m standing right here, Mart,” Randall responded. It was like watching the toddler version of a classic comedy routine.

I peered behind them to see an empty driveway.

Dad wasn’t so far gone as to not understand my unspoken question. “Preston drove us home.”

“Good man,” I said, mostly to myself.

“Good man,” Randall replied, but the way he looked at me, I was sure he wasn’t talking about Preston.

“Okay!” Mom intervened, and Dad and Randall finally stepped through and closed the door.

Dad gave Mom a big hug. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Mart. How much did you have to drink? You two know you’re not in college anymore, right? You smell like the bar. Go get washed up.”

Dad beelined for the stairs as if he knew better than to defy Mom. Randall, on the other hand, stood and stared at me.

“Hi,” he beamed.

“Merry Christmas.” I smiled back.