It was late at night when I let myself into the house. As quietly as possibly, I took my coat and shoes off, set the alarm, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank half of it, before making my way upstairs.

I had a horrible past few days.

I used to love going to other cities on business—not anymore. Especially not in winter when there was a possibility for me to get stranded there. Exactly what it happened, after all.

When Leo Brown had propositioned to me to visit him to talk about his new line of sports clothing, I tried dodging the bullet. It didn’t work. He’d convinced me to head to Chicago in the middle of December to meet a few potential new clients. I couldn’t deny that opportunity.

Even after five years since I had Munchkin, it was still heart-wrenching to be away from him for more than a few hours but a few days.

After Justin had finished his last year of college, some art critique invited him to New York, to show him the art world there. He’d denied the grand offer, but after weeks of convincing him from me and Lindsay, he finally took off to the big bad city for the summer.

It had been the worst months of my life. I practically lived off Michael and Ben’s guest bedroom. Even Munchkin missed Justin. He didn’t have to talk to explain he missed him, I could tell by his face. Whenever he heard Justin’s name, he got agitated, looking around excitedly only for his face to drop comically when there was no Justin anywhere.

The initial three months, which turned into five, were productive for his career, at least. He returned from there with sound recommendations and a name to himself. Also, he was immediately put in contact with a local agent, who we learned he’d worked with none other than Leo—our Canadian friend.

The last step creaked loudly, making me curse it.

Unable to resist a peek at my little Munchkin, I peered through the ajar door. The space shift bed was empty with the sheets crumpled. The pillow was missing, which meant I’d find him with Justin in our bed.

No matter how much we told him his bed was more comfy than ours, he visited us on a regular basis. Which meant the tedious chore of getting dressed after we fucked, and also changing the bed sheet. The things we did for Munchkin, though…

In the cab on the ride home, I’d hoped to find Justin alone in our bed and wake him up in the nicest of ways. It was an impossible dream.

Outside our room, I stopped right in time before I stepped on the newest member of the family. I wasn’t fond of the dog, but being begged from two sides, how could I say no. At least, the animal was smart and never stepped into any of our rooms. He resided on the hallway, in Justin’s studio (his favorite spot so far), or the kitchen under the table (only because Patrick developed a case of klutziness lately). I called bullshit, but never commented on it.

I opened the door, stepping over the dog, and approached the bed.

Like I’d suspected. Justin was sprawled on the bed with Munchkin on his chest. There was also the toy monkey Patrick had gotten from his godfather on the last trip to the zoo. Coming from Michael, it was a great present. I feared he’d bombard the poor kid with Captain Astro action figures. So far, nothing like that.

Quietly, I went to the bathroom, closing the door and hoping the water running wouldn’t wake them, but I was in a dire need of a shower.

After being stranded in an airport for ten hours, flying for three, I was more than ready to wash off the grim.

It was also a lesson to be learned. No matter who bribed me with new clients, I was never leaving the Pitts so close to Christmas time. This stupid trip nearly cost me being with my family on Christmas.

When I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the terry cloth bathrobe around me, I returned to the bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on and both my men were scrubbing at their eyes.

“Daddy!” Patrick bounded to me full speed.

I caught him mid-run, lifting him up, and kissing him fondly. “How’s my Munchkin?”

“I missed you lots!”

“I missed you lots, too.” I grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And I missed you lots, as well.” With a hand behind Justin’s head, I brought him closer for a deep kiss. He moaned, his tongue tracing my lips in a promise for more later.

“Me too,” he whispered. “We can finally decorate.”

“Huh?” I raised an eyebrow at him, while keeping a strong arm on Patrick who kept bouncing on my lap, happy to be close to me again.

“Someone said we shouldn’t decorate until daddy got home.”

“Is that so?” I asked Patrick. “Why?”

“We always do it together.”

“Yeah, but what if I’d still be blocked in that airport?”

“You’d have been home by Christmas. I asked Santa to bring you home.”

I hugged him tightly, closing my eyes. He still managed to make me do muncher worthy things, like cry or have tea parties or wear fuck knows what hideous thing. Though, I drew the line at painting my nails and he was crushed, but a call to Auntie Em saved the day.

“So we need to sleep,” Justin declared. “To have energy tomorrow.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of sending Munchkin to his room, he crawled in the middle of our bed, slipping under the blanket.

“Come on, guys. Sleep.”

I laughed heartily. I’d missed these little moments.

“Honey, what did we talk? When daddy gets home, you’ll sleep in your own bed like a big boy,” Justin said softly, tugging the blanket off our son.

“But I missed Daddy! Why can’t I sleep here?”

Sighing, I slipped in next to him, pulling the blanket back over Patrick. “Your argument is invalid,” I told Justin. “Choose a side—next to him or me.”

Pretending to be upset, he crawled next to Patrick, but twined our fingers over the small body between us. I switched the lamp off, grinning into the dark room.

Justin’s thumb on my wrist helped me settle into a deep sleep. After all, I had my two favorite people in the world next to me.

Morning brought an agitated Munchkin shaking me awake.

Not surprisingly, Justin wasn’t in bed, but it happened more often than not lately, especially when we had the intruder sleeping with us.

“You have to wake up! Lots to do, Daddy!”

“How early is it?” I mumbled into the pillow.

It had been after midnight when I arrived last night.

“Little hand is at seven.”

“And the longer one?” That was the most important one.

“At eleven.”

So it was close to eight. He’d woken me earlier other times, so it could have been worse. “Which means…” We’d been trying to teach him the clock, but he kept saying where each hand was.

“Uh…” He scratched his hair. “Seven-eleven?”

I snorted, bringing him closer and kissing his head. “Fifty-five minutes past seven, or five to eight.”

“Okay.”

Yeah, right. “Where’s dada?” I yawned, not ready yet to get out of the warm bed.

“Dunno.” He shrugged, burrowing closer. “I really missed you, Daddy.”

Stop already. You’ll make me cry. I hugged him tightly, inhaling his scent. My precious Munchkin.

“Didn’t you?”

The kid talked too much, asked too many questions—just like his dada.

“Course, I did, Munchkin.”

“How much?”

“Very much.” I dropped another kiss to the top of his head.

“To the moon and back? That’s how much I missed you.”

Kill me, won’t you? How do I top that shit? “To Pluto and back.” That was the farthest planet I could think of. If it still was a planet.

It didn’t matter, though, because it had the desired effect.

Patrick sat up, grinning widely, before he jumped out of the bed. One day, he’d scatter his brains on the floor, but he never listened to us.

By the time I made my way downstairs, after changing in a pair of sweatpants, Patrick had time to inform Justin of how much I’d missed him. I knew that.

To my surprise, Justin wasn’t in the kitchen as usual. Though, my unusually quiet kid was at the table eating his cereal with milk.

“Where’s dada?” I asked, grabbing the lukewarm coffee from the counter.

“Not here,” Patrick answered in between mouthfuls.

No shit? Like I couldn’t see that.

“Slow down. Don’t make yourself sick,” I chided him, leaning against the counter, thumbing through the newspaper lying there. “Stay here and finish your breakfast. I’ll go see where your dad is.”

There was only one spot in the house where he disappeared to and didn’t resurface for hours, sometimes days.

“Don’t take too long! We have to decorate.”

“I know.” I ruffled his hair, before heading upstairs.

I nearly broke my wrist on the locked studio door. “Justin?” I called through it, confused at why it was locked.

“Don’t come in!” He shouted.

“It’s not like I can.”

“I’m not done here. I just got inspired how to finish your present. Please, don’t ruin it.” He poked his head out the door, kissing me quickly. “You’ll have to go get a tree. He didn’t even let me do that, cuz it’s part of the tradition to buy it with daddy.” Justin rolled his eyes. “You might also pick Gus on your way back. He’s been calling every hour to hear if we had any news from you.”

“You’re not joining us?” I dreaded Christmas tree shopping. Last year, I had to talk sense into two kids—a four year old and a twenty-seven year old—that we couldn’t possibly buy and fit in the house some monstrosity of tree.

“Nope. Busy.”

“Fine. Do you have water and food in there?”

“Yup.”

“Good.” I pecked his lips. “By the way, are you aware you have blue in your hair? Like a lot of blue.”

“It will wash.” He waved dismissively, closing the door in my face.

Back in the kitchen, I found Munchkin ready to start the day.

“We’re going to buy a tree. You should have listened to dada and already bought one. Look what’s outside.”

“It’s snowing!” He clapped, bounding up the stairs.

I groaned, only imagining the next few hours of my life. If we could fast forward to when we had the tree and it was decorated…but of course, it wasn’t possible.

It took over half an hour to get Munchkin dressed, because in that department he took after me and was very demanding of his outfit. Then I got myself dressed, and we were ready to go.

When I was tying his boots’ laces in the entry hallway, Justin rushed down the stairs.

“Did you change your mind?” Please say yes and don’t leave me alone with an overexcited five year old.

“No. I’m still busy. I just wanted to kiss you goodbye and tell you to drive carefully.”

“Yes, mother.” I rolled my eyes.

Justin gathered Munchkin in his customary hug, while I donned on my jacket, scarf and hat.

“Come on, little guy. We have a busy and long day ahead,” I urged them to separate. “You’ll see dada in a few hours.”

That convinced him to run outside.

“Sign me up for the mental hospital, I hear they have openings,” I joked.

“You’ll be fine.” He patted my cheek, his eyes focusing on something behind me. “Patrick, no!”

I turned in time to see our son eating a healthy (or un-healthy) amount of snow.

“You were saying?” I grinned at Justin.

“Maybe you should collect Gus first. That way Patrick might actually see how a big boy should act.”

“Oh, yeah. Because Gus is so grown up? Should I remind you what he did to Mel and Linz? The not so innocent mouse incident?”

“That’s your gene for mischief. Off you go.”

I strapped Patrick in his booster seat, threatening him with no sweets if he unbuckled himself again, before I slid behind the wheel.

Not long after Justin’s return from New York City, we bought a new SUV. What I loved about it was the fact that I could make calls and drive without needing to touch my phone. I just had to tell the car what I wanted, and she did it for me.

On our way to Pittsburgh, I had the car call Lindsay to let her know we’d be there shortly to collect Gus.

“Hello?” Her sleepy voice filled the car.

“Did I wake you?” I snorted.

“Uh, yeah. What is it, Brian? Did you get back?”

“Yes. I’m on my way to you. Wake Gus if he’s not already up, have him dressed and ready to go. I might steal him for a sleepover too.”

“Yeah! Sleepovah with big brotha!” Patrick cheered.

“Can’t you come by later? We’re all sleeping. We stayed up late for a marathon of Home Alone movies.”

“I’m twenty minutes away. Make sure to have Gus ready when I park in front of the house.”

“Normal people need sleep. I don’t know how you can function on a few hours of sleep, but—”

“Lindsay, I have plans for the boys. We’re going tree shopping then we have to decorate said tree and the house. Someone didn’t allow Justin to do anything until I got home.”

“Oh. All right,” she said softly.

“Good. See you soon.”

We hung up, and I caught sight of Munchkin in the rearview mirror. He was fucking with the buckle of his safe belt.

“Whatcha doing, Munchkin?” His head snapped up and an innocent smile appeared on his face. “Raise your hands. There. Stay like that.”

He pouted, complaining that he couldn’t.

“Well, then stop trying to escape. It’s for your own safety. See? I wear my own safe belt.”

“But it’s too tight.”

“I’ll loosen it a little when we get to Lindsay’s okay?”

By the time we reached our destination, Patrick made sure to sing along with every carol on the radio, and when I closed the thing off, he threw one of his plush toys at my head.

I’d never thought much of how kids inherit special traits from the parents. Until Munchkin appeared in my life. He couldn’t get good parts from Justin, he had to inherit his bratty nature. It wasn’t enough I had to deal with Justin’s tantrums, now I had to suffer through Munchkin doing the same. They were scarily alike when they got angry.

The second I stopped the car in front of Lindsay and Melanie’s house, Patrick opened the door and was running to the front door.

How did he get the buckle open?

I followed, stomping my feet. I reached him just when the door opened to reveal a slightly sleepy Gus.

“Hey, buddy.” I bumped his fist.

“You’re back!” He hugged me.

“Yeah. You all packed?”

“Yup. Hey, kiddo.” He crouched to hug Patrick, giving me a clear view into the hallway were Linz was standing at the foot of the stairs. She was still in her sleep clothes and her hair was a mess. “Why don’t you join us?” I needed aid.

“Have fun! I’m going back to bed.”

I scowled at her, accepting the backpack filled with Gus’s clothes. “Let’s go. Don’t run.” I groaned when Patrick zoomed to the car. “You sure you don’t want to join us?” I almost begged Linz.

“Positive. You can do it.” She smiled, before closing the door.

“Get in.” I waved to the car, going to the back to throw the backpack in the trunk. Then I returned to Patrick’s side and strapped him. “Buddy, it’s your job to keep him from unbuckling himself again,” I told Gus seriously.