Page 96 of The Voice We Find

As soon as I hear the front door unlock and open, a sensor triggers a light on Gabby’s ceiling that blinks on and off three times.

She looks at me. “August’s home.”

The swoop in my abdomen is equal parts anticipation and nerves.

I listen for a moment, waiting for him to call out for us. He doesn’t.Odd. But even still, Gabby begins her cleanup of our afternoon’s work, and I watch her slide her hearing aids into each ear and adjust them with her phone.

“I have plans with Tyler’s family tonight,” she says, once her aids are in. “He’s picking me up at 5:30 for his dad’s birthday dinner. We’re doing build-your-own nachos and a game tournament. Their family goes crazy over games.” She shoves the loose papers inside a notebook, then stands and moves toward her closet. “Can I get your opinion on an outfit really quick?”

“Sure.” I pop up from the floor and hear a commotion going on in the dining room. Just as Gabby whirls to show me the cute blue fuzzy sweater and black denim combo on hangers, there’s a knock on her door.

Again, her ceiling lights flash to indicate her brother’s presence on the other side. There’s a button August installed that I missed the first few times I was here.

“Hello?” he says through the door. “You ladies in there?”

I give Gabby a heads-up before I open the door a crack. My heart does a little hippity-hop maneuver at the sight of him in a quilted gray-and-black flannel that looks so cozy over his black undershirt. But more than that, he looks so ...happy. Unusually so.

“I have a surprise out here for you both.”

“For us both?”

He nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yes.”

I widen my eyes, intrigued. “We were just finishing up a fashion consultation in here. Let me check where we are on that.” I pull my head back into the room as Gabby slips out of her walk-in closet fully dressed in the outfit she showed me. She’s let her hair down from her messy bun and is currently scrunching some kind of product in it with both hands. Oh, to have naturally curly hair. “August has a surprise for us out here.”

Her eyebrows tick up as she gestures between us both. I laugh, given I’d done almost the exact same thing.

“That’s what he says, yes.”

“Hey.” I pop my head back out the door to ask a question for his ears only, thinking,Now or never. “Do you think we can talk later on tonight?”

His face registers curiosity, but I don’t miss the note of concern in his voice. “Everything good?”

I nod quickly and then wonder if that’s actually true.

Gabby opens the door wider from behind me, and August’s expression turns suspiciously delighted once again.

“You ready?” he asks. “It’s in the dining room.”

We follow him down the short hallway into the open living room and then turn left into a curtain of helium-filled balloons. There have to be a dozen or more of them tied together and floating at the end of their dining table—all brightly colored and many of them with the wordsCongrats!orYou’re the Best!printed on the latex. Gabby and I exchange confused glances, as I’m certain we’re both thinking how today is not either of our birthdays. I know for a fact that Gabby doesn’t turn seventeen until after the new year, in mid-February.

August beckons us around the mass of bobbing balloons to the broadside of the tables where there are two flat bakery boxes—each with one of our names scrawled across the lid in black Sharpie.

“Pizza cookies!” Gabby suddenly exclaims with a clap. “You went to Old Bay Bakery?!” She glances at me. “It’s my favorite cookie shop ever!”

She reaches out to open her lid, but August stops her. “Sorry, sis. Sophie needs to open hers first. We are celebrating two special occasions tonight.”

I’m staring between the two of them like I’m the party guest who wore the wrong costume to theme night.

“Go ahead.” August’s eyes gleam as he points to the box on the left. “Although, please don’t judge me too harshly on the flavor choices. I didn’t know your favorite, so I had to guess—and by guess, I mean I asked for a four-flavor combo.”

I bite my bottom lip as I reach for the box and flip open the lid to reveal a giant combination cookie pizza with green and red piping in the center that reads#Augie.

I study the strange word and then slowly rotate to face him. “What does hashtag Augie mean?”

He laughs. “That was my question, too, when Chip first mentioned it at lunch today. Apparently, it’s ourcouple name. Our audio performance ofMistletoe Matrimonyhas acquired somewhat of a large online fan base in the last couple of weeks.”

Gabby steps between us, her phone already drawn like a loaded gun as she types in the strange hashtag. “Let’s find it.” And just like that, we do. I gasp as dozens and dozens of posts pull up on a single hashtag—the audio teaser being liked and shared tens of thousands of times. When Gabby taps on one popular post of her brother’s face photoshopped under a branch of mistletoe with the wordsAll I Want For Christmasunderneath, I think I might actually hyperventilate. My laughs are more gasping inhales of air than anything else. As are Gabby’s.

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