Page 22 of The Winging It Holiday Special

Gabe kissed his cheek. “It’s fine. I’ll get it.”

Dante finished washing the chef’s knife, rinsed it, and put it in the rack. Good enough. He dried his hands on a festive dish towel.

Voices from the front of the house drifted back to him. Presumably Gabe was making his excuses for him, but he still preferred to greet guests himself.

“I’m coming! Merry Christmas!” Dante yelled. “Who wants eggnog?”

“Here’s trouble,” Chris said, coming in for the hug. Dante gave it gladly. Chris hugged like a dad, not like a hockey player. Dante should take notes.

“Here I am,” Dante agreed. “Drive was okay?”

“Not too bad for me, at least.” Chris stepped back and gestured a tall, slender woman forward. Her black braids were tied up and pinned with a mini Santa hat, and her sweater featured three bearded Santa gnomes. Dante liked her immediately. “Dante, this is Talia. Talia, my charming son-in-law.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Dante shook her hand. Her manicured nails had little gingerbread men on them. Adorable. “I hope Chris has been behaving himself.”

“Gross!” Gabe said from behind him.

Talia laughed. “I can handle him.”

Yeah, they were going to get alonggreat. But—“Sorry, I thought we were expecting one more?” Dante looked around. “Chris said you were bringing your spawn.”

“She’s in the bathroom,” Chris said. “I’m sure she’ll be—”

“Ugh, sorry,” said a familiar voice, and Dante turned around and said, “Michelle?!”

Across the foyer, Michelle blinked at him. “Oh my God. Are we having aLove, Actuallymoment here? Like for real?”

“Ooh, can I be Hugh Grant?”

Chris cleared his throat from behind him. “I take it you two know each other?”

“Without making the connection, somehow.” Gabe shook his head. “Only you, Dante.”

Dante brightened. “Hey, on the plus side, youreallydon’t have to worry about your mom’s boyfriend’s family not liking you.” He paused. “I think I have some Gravol for the carsickness.”

She waved her hand. “I’m fine. But do I smell fresh bread?”

Dante knew those ready-to-bake baguettes were going to come in handy. He clapped his hands. “Right! Who wants lunch?”

THE DAYpassed in a blur. Dante left after lunch to pick up his parents from the airport, and returned home to find the fireplace dancing merrily and Gabe and Talia taking on Michelle and Chris in a cutthroat euchre game.

“I don’t know,” Dante told his parents honestly. “Canadians, I guess.”

Michelle laid down the jack of hearts. “Euchre,” she said in that particularly Canadian way, a perfect blend of smug withsorryandfuck you.

Gabe threw down his cards in mock disgust. “You’re supposed to be able to count on your partner for one trick!”

“Sure,” Talia agreed, matching him with mock offense. “But you’re also supposed to be able to take the other two.”

Yeah, it was probably best to let this just play out. Dante gestured to the kitchen. “I’m just gonna… eggnog. Mom, Dad, you want a sandwich?”

“I’ll help,” his dad volunteered.

His mom was right behind them. “We can do introductions later.”

Everyone had settled into a comfortable, warm familiarity by the time the pizzas arrived that night, and they all sat around the table, laughing and joking like people who’d known each other their whole lives. Dante felt deeply, fiercely proud of it—that these were his people, in his house; that this was the family he and Gabe would bring a baby into.

Halfway through his third slice, Gabe hooked his ankle around Dante’s under the table, and Dante knew he was thinking the same thing.

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