I lift a hand. “Guilty.”
He offers an apologetic smile. “We all start somewhere. How about snow tubing, or hot chocolate if you want to stay indoors?”
I jump as my phone rings in my purse. At least, I think it’s my phone. The ringtone is off.
Hart’s face matches my frown. “Are you carrying a modem around?”
“Of course not,” I say, digging through my bag. “I’m not connected to a WAN. Aha!” I pull my phone out and laugh at Antonio’s name on the screen. “Excuse me one second.” I answer. “Did you change my ringtone to a dial-up internet sound?”
“Only for my calls,” Antonio says without a hint of guilt.
“When did you do that?”
“On Wednesday, after I rescued you from that fake date.”
“It was not a date!” I laugh and turn to Hart. “A potential colleague asked me to dinner to discuss a position. Now that I say it out loud, it does sound a little weird.”
“Told you,” Antonio adds.
I scoff. “Hush. I can decline any non-work-related dinners. Lunches too.”
Antonio sucks his teeth. “Like that will stop James St. Patrick. I bet you he wears bow ties.”
“He does look like Ghost,” I giggle.
“I don’t lie. But that’s not why I called. Do you still like that mint green color?”
That’s random. “Why?”
“I’m making you a friendship bracelet.”
“A what?” I snort. Marcela grimaces.
“You heard me,” he says.
“Antonio is making me a friendship bracelet,” I tell my sister.
“Hey, friend!” Antonio shouts through the phone, earning a smirk. I put him on speakerphone. “You want one too? We got an assembly line going.”
Marcela lets out a short laugh. “You two are a mess. I’m good.”
“Suit yourself,” Antonio says. “So, do you still like mint green, Doe?”
“Yes, but why are you making friendship bracelets on an assembly line at nine thirty at night?”
“I’m watching Aeris while her pops does night construction. He plays on the team. Speaking of which, say hi to Miriam.”
“Hi, Miriam!” voices say in unison.
The visual of professional rugby players crowded around beads and accessories is one I wish I could see in person. Antonio describes Steel House as a place of debauchery. Not a Michael’s.
“Hey, Maid Miriam!” Bread’s voice is loud and clear. “Stop hogging the hearts, Baby Q.”
“Aye, split those,” Antonio cuts in.
“Mint green is fine. Thank you for thinking of me.” I smile.
His voice lowers. “Always do.”
