Page 33 of Check the Halls
The smile he gives me is bittersweet. “No problem. I figured you wouldn’t want everyone at work knowing your business.” He heads for the door, turning back to me when he reaches it. “Plus, I wanted to spare you from interrogation.”
I pause, sandwich halfway to my mouth. “Interrogation?”
“Of course. If your coworkers knew you’ve seen me naked, they wouldn’t leave you alone until you painted them a picture. Not literally, of course. I mean, they probably wouldn’t ask you to put pen to paper and sketch it. But they would hound you until you gave a detailed visual.”
“Mmmhmm.” I’m trying to keep a neutral expression, but God, he makes it hard.
“And when you finally break down and describe it, they probably won’t believe you or think that you’re exaggerating and I don’t want you to have to endure that. That’s not fair to you.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Ben.”
“Isn’t it?” He gives me the widest, most Ben Michaels grin. It proudly showcases his dimples like the national treasure they are.
“I’ll make sure to find a Santa hat that fits around your inflated head.”
“Much appreciated. See you soon, Madness.”
CHAPTER 11
BEN
Madness: So you really think they’ll show up?
Ben: They’ll be there
Madness: Great
Madness: But if you had to put a percentage on the likeliness they’ll actually come
Ben: 113%
Ben: Have I ever let you down before?
Ben: Wait. Don’t answer that
Madness: lol
Ben: They will be there. I promise
“Istill don’t understand what Canadian Thanksgiving even is.”
It’s the third time Austin has spoken thissentence in the last thirty minutes and my patience has run dry. Remembering the sage words of wisdom from my grandmother, I opt to remain silent. I have nothing nice to say and should therefore say nothing.
It’s a gorgeous October morning in downtown Ottawa. The air is cool, but there’s no bite to it, and the way that the sun is shining, it’s going to warm up quickly. Around us, runners in brightly coloured athletic gear stretch out their legs, shake out their arms, and adjust their numbered bibs. Some spectators lean against sidewalk barricades, hot drinks in hand as they snap photos of us and other athletes with their phones.
“It celebrates the fall harvest. It’s a time to gather and be grateful for what we have.” Will explains again, patiently.
“But why does it happen in October?” Austin asks. I’m honestly not sure if he doesn’t understand or is just choosing to be obtuse.
“Because that’s when the Fall crops were harvested,” Foster answers. Winter hits Canada pretty early. I remember Trick-or-Treating in my snow boots on more than one occasion.
“It just doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving.” Austin has been in Canada for a little over a year, moving from Arizona when he was traded. He’s originally from California. “I mean, you don’t even have a Macy’s Parade.”
Foster scowls at him. “There aren’t any Macy’s in Canada, Crawford.”
Austin holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, man. Don’t blame me for your country’s lack of Macy’s.”
Why did I invite him?
