Page 138 of The Holiday Fakers
Her eyes move from the phone to us. “What was in the gift bag Lola gave you?”
“I haven’t opened it yet,” I mutter into my drink as Brody’s fingers move to the inside of my thigh, stroking upward.
Mom’s face falls. “Well, that’s a missed opportunity for bringing a bit of extra excitement to snuggle time.”
“Mom!” I splutter, as Brody’s hand moves higher.
She shrugs like a teenager. “Just saying.”
Brody’s middle finger presses at the seam of my jeans, and I leap off the stool.
“Wow!” I squeak. “Look at the time! Maybe we should get going?”
“You are so bad,”I mutter under my breath to Brody as we make our way toward the town center.
Mom’s walking ahead, chatting away on her phone with Eileen, although most of the conversation seems to be her loudly asking, “Can you hear me now?”—thanks to Hideaway’s patchy signal.
“You make me want to be bad,” he murmurs.
I tug my scarf away from my throat as a hot flash arrives twenty years too early.
“It’s the last week of the Christmas market,” I say, trying to steer the conversation back to neutral ground before I drag him back to bed. “I want to look for a present for you.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“Please?”
He smiles at me, and butterflies take off in my stomach. “We’ll see.”
“Good.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Mom exclaims as she pockets her phone. “Eileen heard from Felicity, who heard it from SummerWhittaker, that Marv was three sheets to the wind last night. Had to be carried back to the Hideaway Hotel.”
“What?” Brody asks.
“Summer works shifts at The Shore Thing, and apparently Marv came in after nine, already a little tipsy. He kept drinking, and then couldn’t walk! Have you heard from him today?”
Brody shakes his head. “I haven’t turned on my phone yet.”
“Has he messaged you, honey?” Mom asks me.
“My phone’s been off, too.”
Mom presses her lips together and frowns. “Should you get in touch?”
“He’s probably still asleep,” Brody replies. “I’ll call him after the calendar reveal.”
“Okay, but it does make me worry. That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he would do.”
I look to Brody for confirmation.
He rubs his free hand over his jaw. “It’s not. I’m sure he’s fine, but we’ll check up on him when he’s slept it off.”
Mom taps on her phone. “I’m sending him a message telling him where we’re going to be, in case he sees it.”
When Mom’s done, we continue down Hideaway Avenue toward Hard to Find as a bitter wind whips the bottoms of our coats. I glance up at the darkening sky, and a pellet of ice hits my eye.
“Ow!”
