“You’re a good man, Archie,” she said. “Your mom would be proud.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded and smiled, blinking fast. He wasn’t about to cry over cocoa and stationery. Not today.
Not yet.
Chapter Seven
Brogan
Brogan had barely steppedthrough the door before he was tearing into shopping bags like a kid on Christmas morning, which was exactly the vibe he was going for. He laid everything out on the couch: the soft flannel pajamas for Archie, the new leash and chew toys for Pasha, the ridiculous catnip sushi set for Molly. But the real gift—the one that made his heart thump just thinking about it—he carried it to the bedroom and tucked into the back of his dresser drawer, wrapped in deep green paper and tied with a velvet ribbon. That one was for Christmas morning. That one was everything. He carried the other gifts and put them in the living room.
He went to the kitchen and poured himself a bourbon on ice and took his drink to the living room. One by one, he wrapped each gift, scribbling names on tags with a Sharpie and stacking them with care. He set them around the tree. The stockings were next—he stuffed them full of treats and trinkets, a mix of thoughtful and silly. Pasha’s held a squeaky reindeer. Molly’s a tiny felt mouse. Archie’s had a mini bottle of cologne, a scratch-off ticket, and a note that said Open me last.
Archie was in charge of selecting gifts for the Star family and the Duarte family, but they each went in half like they had been doing. All household expenses were shared, but Brogan wished Archie was co-owner of the home, but when he brought it up, he told Brogan he didn’t earn enough.
He was just queuing up the Christmas playlist in the background when the front door creaked open.
“Need a hand?” Brogan called, already halfway to the entryway.
Archie stood there, cheeks pink from the cold, arms full of shopping bags like a department store Santa. Brogan grinned and crouched to help with the boots, tugging them off one at a time.
“Damn, you went hard,” he said, eyeing the haul.
“Got a little carried away,” Archie admitted, laughing. “You should see what I got for Molly. She’s gonna hate it.”
They dumped the bags in the living room and flopped onto the couch, the tree casting a soft glow over everything.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Brogan asked, nudging Archie’s knee with his own.
Archie tilted his head. “Why don’t we go bowling?”
Brogan perked up. “Bowling sounds fun. Let’s call Andrew, see if he and Rafael want in.”
“That’s a great idea.”
Brogan grabbed his phone but paused. “How was your visit with your aunt?”
Archie’s expression softened. “She said all the right things. We’re invited to Christmas dinner at Rafael’s parents’ house.”
Brogan nodded. “Really. If that’s good for you, then it’s okay for me.”
Archie smiled and sent off a quick text. A few minutes later, they had a plan.
The bowling alley smelled like nacho cheese and old carpet, but it was buzzing with energy. Brogan and Archie met up with Andrew and Rafael near lane twelve, where the neon lights made everything glow like a rave for suburban dads.
They split into teams with Brogan and Rafael versus Archie and Andrew, and grabbed beers and hot dogs, before the first frame.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Archie said, stretching like he was about to run a marathon. “Prepare to be humbled.”
Brogan rolled his eyes. “You bowl like you’re trying to seduce the pins.”
“Maybe I am,” Archie shot back.
Andrew snorted into his beer. “I feel like I walked into something.”
“You did,” Rafael said, grinning. “It’s called codependency.”
Brogan stepped up first, rolled a solid eight, and turned with a shrug. “I’m just here for the snacks.”
