Chapter 26 #2
“We're doing the present exchange tomorrow night,” Bridger announced. “Traditional chaos, maximum theft allowed.”
“Remember when Everett got the bedazzled jock strap?” Declan asked.
“I still have it,” Everett said proudly. “It's a family heirloom now.”
“That's disturbing,” Jules said.
Gryff and I spent Christmas Eve afternoon with my mom and grandparents. We had a family tradition of a book exchange so we had something to read that evening while waiting for Santa to come. Gryff and I both went home with a copy of You are a Badass at Making Money.
The Kingman white elephant exchange was exactly as chaotic as promised. The gifts ranged from ridiculous to ridiculously thoughtful to just plain weird.
Flynn unwrapped a shirt that said “I'm Not The Better Twin But I'm The Prettier One.”
“Who did this?” he demanded.
Everyone pointed at Gryff.
Trixie opened a coffee table book called “Sexy Tractors of the Midwest.”
“This is horrible. I'm keeping it forever.”
Bridger got a set of wind chimes made entirely of tiny football helmets. “These are going right outside my office window.”
Penelope opened her gift to find a onesie that said “My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad Unless Your Dad Is Also A Kingman.”
“Accurate,” she nodded.
I unwrapped my gift to find a throw pillow. But not just any pillow—it was green, embroidered exactly like the lucky pillow, except instead of “In This House We Bleed Green,” it said “In This House We Play Rugby.”
“Who—“ I started, already getting choked up.
“Family gift,” Bridger said. “The grandmothers made it. If you're going to be a Kingman, you need your own pillow. Even if it contains heresy about rugby.”
“Rugby is superior,” I said, hugging the pillow.
“And she's crying,” Gryff announced. “Everyone mark your calendars.”
“Shut up, I'm not crying.”
Gryff swiped softly at my cheek. “You're totally crying.”
But I wasn’t the only one. A moment later, Trixie, Kelsey, Penelope, Willa, and Tempest all got pillows too. We all got the same style that started with the ‘In this House’ phrase. But each was uniquely created for their bearer.
The best gift, though, was Gryff opening a box to find a coffee mug with Vincent Van Goat's face on it wearing a Christmas hat with the words “Goat Daddy” underneath.
“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 watching Die Hard, which isn't even a Christmas movie.”
“Die Hard is 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.
“It was horrible,” Declan said. “The group chat was chaos.”
“Jules almost blew it six times,” Hayes added.
“I did not.”
“You literally sent a photo of dog food to the family chat last week.”
“That was for the goats.”
“Goats don't eat dog food, Jules.”
Jules stuck her tongue out at her brothers and then smiled at her dad. “What are you going to name him?”
“The Fourth.”
All the Kingmans laughed.
I leaned over to Gryff and whispered, “I don't get it. What's so funny?”
“Oh, that's right. We didn't have a dog anymore by the time you moved to Colorado. This is the family's fourth dog, and they've all been named Bear. So this is Bear the Fourth.”
Bear barked, as if agreeing, and then noticed the goats for the first time. Vincent and Holly had wandered into the kitchen, probably looking for food.
The puppy wiggled out of Bridger's arms and went straight for the goats, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook.
Vincent looked at the puppy with great disdain. Holly, however, immediately accepted the invitation for friendship, gently headbutting Bear, who flopped over in submission.
“We have a very weird family,” Bridger said, watching his new puppy follow a goat around his kitchen while his pregnant daughter-in-law directed bacon cooking from a chair and his sons argued about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie.
“The best weird family,” Jules corrected, kissing his cheek.
“Definitely the best,” I agreed, holding my heretical rugby pillow and watching Vincent try to eat the Christmas tree while Holly taught Bear how to steal bacon.
“Family photo time,” Nana announced. “Everyone outside, and bring the zoo.”
We trooped outside to a lovely sunny Christmas Day, because Colorado.
All the Kingman boys, Jules, the parents and grandparents, all the wives, Tempest, me, three goats.
.. Vincent had multiplied somehow. No wait, that was the football equipment reindeer, a donkey, an anaconda, a cat, a wiener dog, a rooster, and one fluffy puppy.
“This is insane.” Bridger called out as Isak set up the timer on his fancy new phone.
The photo showed this enormous happy family, our crazy array of pets, and me and Gryff in the middle of it all, him kissing my temple while I laughed at our goats trying to climb us like a jungle gym.
“Best Christmas ever,” I said to Gryff as we walked back inside.
“Just wait until New Year's,” he said. “Isak's got a bowl game.”
“More football?”
“More family,” he corrected. “Plus football.”
“As long as there's family,” I said, looking back at the chaos behind us, baby bear chasing Holly, Vincent eating decorations, Jules trying to teach Burrito to wear a Santa hat. “I'm in.”
“Forever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I confirmed.
“Good,” he said. “Because I'm pretty sure the goats just ate Flynn's car keys.”
I looked over to see Vincent with a look of indigestion on his face. But also looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.
“Guess we're staying a while then,” I laughed.
“Guess we are.”
And honestly? Surrounded by this beautiful chaos, there was nowhere else I'd rather be.
Even if Vincent Van Goat was currently throwing up car keys on the lawn.