Page 134 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“I'm never using another mug,” Gryff said solemnly.
After everyone had gone to bed and Jules had successfully snuck the puppy into the garage with help from Isak and about six pounds of treats, Gryff and I sat on the back porch, watching a rare Christmas snow start to fall. It wouldn't stick, but it was pretty.
“You happy?” he asked, pulling me closer.
“So happy it's disgusting,” I admitted. “Last Christmas I was alone in my apartment eating Chinese takeout, pretending to read “Financial Feminist” and watchingDie Hard, which isn't even a Christmas movie.”
“Die Hardis a Christmas movie.”
“That's what I said. But this...” I looked back at the house, full of family, full of love, full of chaos. “This is better.”
“Even with the present chaos?”
“Especially with the present chaos.” I held up my pillow. “I have my own Kingman pillow now. It's official.”
“You were official the moment you walked into that first family game night,” he said. “The pillow's just documentation.”
Christmas morning came way too early, announced by Vincent and Holly who had somehow escaped the garage and were standing on the porch, bleating at the top of their lungs.
“Merry Christmas,” Jules shouted through the house. “Everyone up. Get up, get up, get up.”
“It's six in the morning,” Flynn groaned from our old room.
“CHRISTMAS WAITS FOR NO ONE!”
The kitchen was already chaos. Bridger was making his famous Christmas morning cinnamon rolls, the grandparents were arguing about bacon techniques, and Penelope was directing traffic from a chair because standing was “overrated at this point in pregnancy.”
“Where's Jules?” I asked.
“Getting the surprise,” Chris said, trying not to smile.
“What surprise?” Bridger asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. No surprise. Eat your cinnamon roll.”
That's when we heard the tiny bark from the garage.
Bridger froze. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” everyone said at once.
Another bark, louder this time.
“That sounds like?—“
Jules walked in carrying the fluffiest baby... animal? I wasn't sure if it was a panda with just one small white spot, a slobbery soot sprite, or the fluffiest puppy who was the epitome of cuteness. Jules even had him wearing a massive red bow.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” she said, her voice shaking.
Bridger stared at the puppy, then at his children, then back at the puppy. “You didn't.”
“We did,” Chris said. “With no more kids at home, we figured it was time, Dad.”
“He's ten weeks old,” Isak added, pulling out his phone. “I'm ready to turn this puppy into the internet's next celebrity dog.”
Bridger held out his arms and cuddled the little fluffball in his arms like a baby. It started licking his face enthusiastically while he tried not to cry.
“I can't believe you all kept this secret,” he said.
