Page 32 of Christmas Bubble

I look up.

Crap, I forgot Coach was here. You’re okay. You’re strong. This is going to be okay.

“Yeah, sure. It’s just my friend. Looks like her flight is canceled, so she can’t come after all. Anyway, can I get you a coffee or something?”

I stand and walk to the kitchen before Coach answers. He follows me, but I ignore him. Maybe if I click my heels together, he’ll disappear back to his cabin. Then I can feel sorry for myself for a little while until I can face him again to finish our conversation.

I mentally run through what I packed, and sadly, I don’t think I have any red heels. I guess my fluffy pink slippers will have to do. And cake, of course.

“Bubble, are you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t—”

Suddenly the front door to the cabin opens with a thud and the blondest child with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen runs inside.

He stares at me and gasps.

“Are you our Christmas elf?”

13

COACH

The kid’sface is comical. He looks around the cabin, and with each thing his little blue eyes focus on, there’s a new gasp of wonder.

A moment later, a little girl comes running in and almost bumps into the boy.

“Look, Megan, we have a Christmas elf,” the kid says.

The girl gets closer to the boy and says in a hushed tone, “Are you sure he’s not a stranger?”

“No, you silly. Look, he’s small, wearing Christmas trees,andthere’s Christmas decorations everywhere.”

“Oh yeah,” the girl says, looking around the cabin and then turning to Bubble. “Do we need to go outside so you can finish your elf job? It’s a little cold, but we can wait. Will we get in trouble with Santa?”

She holds the boy’s hand and pulls him toward the door, but the boy doesn’t budge.

Bubble looks up at the ceiling and mumbles something I can’t make out before looking back at the kids.

“Sorry, kids…I’m not an elf. Also, not small,” he says, going around the kitchen island with his hands on his hips, sounding quite indignant. “I’m perfectly formed, thank you very much.”

I almost snort-laugh at his comment.

“Holy snakes, even his pants are pink,” the girl says.

“They’re awesome, right?” Bubble says, twirling on the spot. “Anyway, I’m Bubble. Who are you?”

“I’m George, but you can call me Gigi, and this is my sister, Megan.”

I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in the room finding this situation a little…strange.

Bubble smiles and crouches to their level. “Are you twins?”

“No, silly. We’re not really brother and sister yet. Our dads are getting married in the spring,” the girl says like that explains everything.

“And where are your dads…?” Bubble starts.

“Don’t worry. We can distract them,” George says.