“FERGUS, c’mon! We’ve got to get into the car or we’ll end up in traffic.” August’s adopted dog-son gave him a big-eyed whimper and rolled over on the bed they kept for him at August and Will’s place. August chuckled.
Will rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Fergus totally understood that. He hates afternoon traffic as well. C’mere, boy!”
Fergus gave Will the same baleful look he’d given August.
“See, I told you he doesn’t love you more than me,” August said with a laugh and punched Will’s shoulder. “Is your bag in the car?”
“Yes, mother. We’re all ready to go. We just need the ginger prince to get his leash on and we’re off.”
“I swear he knows we’re going in the car. He hates long trips.”
The door to Will and August’s loft opened, and Christopher came bustling in. He had snow on his coat and hat, and his nose and cheeks had turned bright red.
“Is my dog being a pain in the arse again?” he muttered. “Fergs. You can’t hold up Christmas just because you’re cozy by the fire.”
“At this rate, we won’t be in Boston until Boxing Day,” Will muttered.
Christopher strode over and simply picked Fergus up from the floor, ignoring his protests at being dragged away from his favorite spot by the gas fireplace. He flipped the switch on the gas range and brought the dog over to get his collar and lead snapped into place. “He probably would’ve come a lot quicker if you’d have just turned the fire off, you know?”
“He was a guest. I hated to be rude.”
Fergus was a rather frequent guest at Will and August’s loft, as was Christopher and the girl Will had started seeing around Thanksgiving. It was cozy and crowded and felt a lot like family. August loved it… except when their walls were a little too thin and couple time got a bit too public.
“Do you have his jacket in case he gets cold in the car?” August asked. He fretted about Fergus like he was a toddler, but he always had and there was no point in stopping now.
“He’ll be fine.” Christopher laughed and rolled his eyes at the same time. “Let’s go before I decide I’m too scared to meet your whole family and I lock myself in my flat.”
Christopher’s place was a few blocks over, on a quieter street with more trees. It wasn’t permanent, and they all knew it, but nobody had said anything yet about who was moving and when.
“Come on. They’ll love you. My parents have fallen for you, haven’t they?”
It wasn’t easy, but Christopher had worn them down over Thanksgiving with his charms and repeated assurances that he was in it for the long haul with August. Fergus didn’t hurt either. The O’Learys had always been suckers for a cute dog. A cute Irish dog.
The little foursome got into the elevator and rode it down to the front of the building, where Christopher’s car that he’d rented to get them to Boston was waiting. The snow was coming down thick and white, and even restless Manhattan was quiet.
“Are your parents going to miss you this year?” Christopher asked Will.
“Yeah, but I’ll be going home for a couple of weeks in the spring. My mum says she talks to me more now than when I was just in London.”
“Probably true,” August said. They bundled into the car and let Fergus crawl onto the floor, and then the driver was off.
IT all seemed to have come full circle since a single year ago when August was leaving for Christmas with a heavy, nervous heart and no idea what was going to happen next.
He’d figured it all out—at least the big parts about his job and where he wanted to live and what the hell he was going to do about having Christopher back in his life. And whatever was left? Well, he supposed he could deal with that in time.