Page 234 of Rush

I hope including Broderick in tonight’s festivities gives him themorehe’s looking for—without over complicating things.

I hope.

The kitchen is a disaster. Roasting pans everywhere, oil-splattered oven mitts on the counter, and a stack of lumpia cooling beside a mountain of mashed potatoes.

“Okay, wait—why do I have to be on lumpia duty?” Riley complains, tossing another roll onto the tray. “You know I can’t be trusted not to sample the product.”

“You’re the only one I trust not to burn them,” I say, stirring the thick gravy on the stove. “You’re basically an honorary Filipino. Mom unofficially adopted you.”

Riley’s childhood was rough—she spent half her time at our place. Her parents preferring drugs over responsibility, a house packed with kids surviving on stale bread and instant noodles. My mom made meals for them more times than I can count. When Riley’s older siblings ran away, the moment they turned sixteen, the younger ones were all left to fend for themselves.

When Riley was seventeen, she finally called Child Protective Services. After that, my mother and Jack fostered her and her two younger brothers. By the time the boys turned sixteen, they’d gone their separate ways—one joined the army, and the other, heartbreakingly, fell into addiction.

“Naww.” She grins. “But you know you lie about the lumpia. Zero trust, babe.Zero.”

Broderick walks past, shirt sleeves rolled up, carrying the lechon like it’s a baby made of molten lava. “If this collapses, we’re ordering pizza.”

Riley makes a face. “If it collapses, I’m blaming your gym-bro biceps for being ornamental.”

Luca leans against the counter, sipping soda from a wine glass like he’s above all of us. “Why wasn’t I assigned any cooking responsibilities?”

“Because you bribed me with red velvet cake from Balthazar,” I say. “Which, honestly, was smart.”

Luca shrugs. “I play to win.”

Riley nudges me with her elbow. “You two should get a room.”

Broderick stiffens, looking between Luca and me. I wink at him and shake my head.

I snort. “You’re projecting, babe.”

“I’m not.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You insisted he walk around with us in IKEA just to ‘test the shocks’ of each and every bed on display.”

“That was for science.”

Broderick glances over with a grin. “Should we leave the room, give you two some privacy totestthe shocks?”

“No,” Riley says. “You should stay and tell your lover to ease up on the accusations.”

“I picking up on a vibe between you.” Broderick laughs, pointing between Riley and Luca.

“There’s no vibe,” Luca says smoothly, refilling his glass. “But if there were, I wouldn’t be mad.”

Riley turns beet-red and throws a tea towel at him. “You had your chance, you blew it,” she says, her brow arching.

Luca shakes his head, and yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.

After dinner we drink ourselves stupid, it’s time to exchange one gift. The usual tradition: a set of pajamas.

“My dearest beloved Riley,” I say with a dramatic flourish, wine warming my cheeks. “I bestow upon thee your Christmas Eve gift.”

Riley waves like she’s the Queen of England. “Thank you, my lady.”

“What about me?” Broderick asks, smirking.

I touch a hand to my chest. “Of course, my king—here you go.”