Chapter Ten
Archie
Archie stood in front of the closet, towel still around his neck, staring at the rows of shirts as if they might offer some kind of divine guidance. “What are we wearing to this thing?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Brogan, who was buttoning up a crisp white shirt.
Brogan shrugged, but his brow was tight. “Something nice, but not too nice? I don’t want to look like we’re trying too hard.”
“Right,” Archie muttered. “God forbid we look like we care.”
They both laughed, but it was nervous laughter. The whole thing still felt weird—being uninvited from the Stars’ house because of Uncle David, then having dinner moved to the Duartes’ place. It was generous of Rafael’s family, but the tension still hung in the air like smoke.
Archie ended up in a navy sweater and dark jeans.
Brogan wore the brown cable knit he’d gotten that morning, and they both looked good—comfortable but put-together.
They loaded the car with an enormous basket of wrapped gifts, and a cheese spread Archie had arranged like a work of art, complete with rosemary sprigs and little labels.
When they pulled up to the Duartes’ house, Archie’s stomach did a little flip. Brogan reached over and squeezed his hand.
“We’ve got this,” he said.
Rafael’s mom opened the door with a warm smile. “Merry Christmas! Come in, come in!”
The house smelled of delightful Mexican spices, and the tree in the living room sparkled with gold and red ornaments. Archie and Brogan set the presents under the tree, the cheese spread on the buffet table, and barely had time to take off their coats before Andrew and Rafael appeared.
“Merry Christmas, you two!” Andrew said, pulling them both into a hug. “What’d you get this morning?”
Archie grinned and held up his hand. Brogan did the same.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Wait! What?”
Brogan beamed. “We’re engaged. Getting married on Valentine’s Day.”
The room went still for a second, then erupted in cheers and clapping. Everyone except Uncle David and Rafael’s dad. They stood off to the side, arms crossed, saying nothing. Archie saw them exchange a look but didn’t let it ruin the moment. Not tonight.
Archie barely had time to take off his coat before Gabriella came barreling toward him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and didn’t care about decorum, and Archie laughed, hugging her back tightly.
Brogan got pulled into the embrace too, and for a moment Archie felt the warmth of family settle around them like a blanket.
Then Aunt Laura and Rafael’s mother stepped forward, both smiling, both pulling him into hugs that lingered. Archie’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he had needed that kind of welcome until it happened.
“Remember, I’m here for anything you need, Archie,” Aunt Laura said, her voice steady and kind.
Brogan leaned in with a grin. “What about me?”
“And you too,” Aunt Laura said, laughing as she gave him another squeeze. Then her tone softened, and she looked Archie straight in the eye. “And Archie, your mother would have been so proud of you, and she would have more than approved of Brogan as I do.”
Archie’s throat went tight. He swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears in his eyes.
His mother’s absence was always sharpest on holidays but hearing Aunt Laura say that made him feel like a piece of his mother was still here, still watching, and still loving him.
He glanced at Brogan, who was smiling, and Archie’s heart swelled with gratitude.
“Thank you, Aunt Laura,” he caught his breath. “That means a lot to me especially today.” He meant it more than his words could carry.
Aunt Laura was right about his mother, and she would’ve loved Brogan. Archie was so damn lucky she’d have been proud of him. He knew this from Aunt Laura’s words, but in his heart he knew it, and Uncle David would never again make him question his mother’s love for him.
After the excitement settled, they started exchanging gifts. Archie and Brogan gave each family member a cozy red Christmas sweatshirt with a Santa on it. Andrew and Rafael gave them a framed photo of the four of them from bowling along with matching bowling shirts with their names on them.
Archie swallowed hard, looking at the picture of all four of them. “You guys…”
Brogan kissed Archie’s cheek. “We’re lucky to have them.”
Dinner was served buffet-style—tamales, roast pork, rice with pigeon peas, sweet plantains, and a mountain of desserts.
Archie and Brogan sat close to each other at the table, knees touching, hands brushing now and then.
The food was incredible, the conversation warm, and even though the tension with Uncle David and Mr. Duarte never fully disappeared, it didn’t dominate the night.
Archie caught Brogan looking at him, eyes soft, ring glinting in the light.
Yeah, they’d made it through the hard part. The rest? The rest was theirs.
Archie carried the stack of presents out of the Duarte’s house, his arms full but his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
The night had gone better than he’d feared, and even with the tension from Uncle David and Rafael’s father, the warmth from everyone else had carried him through.
By the time he and Brogan got home, the quiet of their own place felt like a gift in itself.
They set the presents down by the tree, its lights still glowing softly in the corner. Brogan disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two champagne flutes, the bubbles catching the glow of the tree. He handed one to Archie, then clinked his glass against it.
“To us,” Brogan said, smiling that smile that always made Archie’s chest ache in the best way.
Archie grinned, feeling the ring on his finger as he lifted the glass. “To us.”
They sipped, then leaned into each other, kissing slow and unhurried. Archie felt like the entire world had narrowed down to this—just the two of them, the tree, the champagne, and the promise of forever.
“I still can’t believe we’re engaged,” Archie said, laughing softly. “It feels… surreal.”
Brogan brushed his thumb over Archie’s hand. “Surreal in a good way, I hope.”
“The best way,” Archie said. He kissed him again, lingering. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Brogan replied, pulling him close.
They sat back against the couch, legs tangled, champagne glasses resting on the coffee table.
Brogan’s eyes lit up as he said, “So… honeymoon. I was thinking about the Ireland. You could see where I grew up and we can travel to the nearby countries too and meet my parents in the UK where they moved to.”
Archie’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Meeting Brogan’s parents felt huge, but also right. “Ireland sounds perfect,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to go. Castles, countryside, all of it. And meeting your family… yeah, I want that.”
Brogan squeezed his hand. “They’re going to love you, and I know they'll come here for the wedding. So, you’ll meet them even sooner.”
Archie smiled, though nerves twisted in his chest. He wanted to believe that, and deep down he did.
But more than anything, he wanted to show them how much he loved their son.
“I hope so,” he whispered. “Because I already feel like I belong with you. And with them, it’ll be like… the last piece falling into place.”
Brogan kissed him again, soft and certain. “You already belong. With me, with them, with all of it.”
Archie’s heart swelled. He leaned his forehead against Brogan’s, feeling the warmth of the tree lights flicking across their faces. The day had been long, but it had ended exactly how he wanted—wrapped up in love, champagne, and the promise of a future that felt brighter than any Christmas lights.
The End