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They met up with Sawyer at Ernie’s, the dive bar where he bartended. It was, as far as Tara could tell, the only bar in Advent, and she remembered the food being good and the owner lovely, even if it was the scene of her most humiliating breakup.

The owner came out to greet them. Ernie was a young Black woman who had, if Tara remembered correctly, inherited the bar from her grandmother, her namesake and the original Ernie. She had on an incredible red lipstick and giant Bakelite earrings in the shape of monstera leaves. She was wearing beat-up Chuck Taylors, ripped skinny jeans, and a Bad Brains shirt. It was almost exactly what she’d been wearing when Tara met her a year ago. Tara respected a work uniform.

“Ernestine!” Cole cried, holding his arms out.

“Nicholas Jedediah, I told you that if you insist on calling me by my full name, I will revoke your invitation to this establishment,” Ernie said, hugging him tightly.

“This is my best friend Tara,” he said, turning to introduce her.

Ernie cocked her head at this. “I thought Miriam was your best friend?”

“In the immortal words of Mindy Kaling, best friend is a tier, not a position. But Tara is my sister-cousin-heartbeat-half-of-my-soul. Miriam is my…” He paused, gesticulating. “Platonic life partner. It’s different. I don’t know how to explain it!”

“I am very curious about what the other half of Cole’s soul is like,” a voice said behind her.

“Well-ordered,” Tara said without thinking as she turned.

The night they’d all met Sawyer, she’d been overwhelmed by the loud chaos in the bar and focused on watching the way Miriam and Noelle looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. She hadn’t noticed her soulmate’s life changing forever, because hers had been, too. Later, when they were back on good terms, Miriam described the moment Cole met Sawyer as like watching someone be struck by lightning. He had, up to that point, thought of himself as a staunch ally who happened to never be able to get emotionally attached to the women he dated. It had not occurred to him, until the day he met Sawyer, that this might be because he was meant to fall in love with men.

To be honest, it hadn’t occurred to Tara, either. She’d wondered if he were aromantic, although he seemed very interested in finding romance. This was something that had never made sense to her, as she felt romantic attraction but didn’t really want to. She’d thought that, given the number of queer people he was surrounded by and the openness with which he embraced the community, if he’d been queer, he would have said so.

She’d underestimated his desire to never have uncomfortable conversations, even with himself.

Last night, she’d been distracted by Holly and trying to be polite to all the various people being thrown at her. She’d been off-kilter from being treated, by everyone, as if she were part of the core Carrigan’s team. So, she still hadn’t focused on Sawyer and taken him in. The picture she carried of him in her mind was of a very small man with a giant handlebar mustache and a ponytail.

The man standing before her certainly seemed short next to Cole. He did have an extraordinary mustache, but it wasn’t as cartoonish as her brain had painted it. His hair was high up on his head in a sloppy bun, and he was wearing skinny jeans and a giant cardigan that she was certain used to be Cole’s over a button-down and a tie. Honestly, he reminded Tara a great deal of Miriam, which she was sure neither Miriam nor Cole had clocked.

“Sawyer!” she said, holding out a hand. He held out his arms for a hug in response.

Shrugging, she gave in. Of course Cole had fallen in love with a hugger.

Sawyer pulled her to the bar and told her he’d been trying a new mint julep recipe and needed her input as a Southerner, since Cole didn’t drink. He talked about his childhood and how he’d ended up running for mayor of a tiny tourist town in the Adirondacks, and Tara told him stories about their childhood that didn’t involve them lighting anything on fire.

“I’m still not sure I understand how you two are related,” Sawyer said, making easy conversation in a way that spoke to his years of bartending. “I thought you were cousins, but if Aunt Cricket is only your aunt…” He trailed off, the question implied.

Tara looked at Cole. “Oh, we’re not blood related,” she clarified. “Although to be fair, neither are Cricket and I.”

“You said she was your sister-cousin, literally moments ago,” Sawyer reminded him.

Cole blinked, unfazed by having his own words mirrored back to him. “Yes. Our mothers are best friends who were pregnant at the same time.”

She turned to Sawyer. “We were raised in each other’s pockets. We’re family.”

Sawyer nodded. “I mean, we’re all gay here, it’s not like we’re new to found family. Y’all just didn’t find each other.”

Tara laughed. “I wouldn’t have been who Cole chose, if he’d had to go further than his crib to find me.”

Cole hummed. “I did choose to find you, though. Remember?”

She did.

Cole had come for her once. After the fire, she thought their friendship was as dead as the grass on the country club lawn, but he’d found the tiny embers that were left and refused to let them die.

She’d never been able to figure out why.

“Enough sappiness!” Cole said suddenly, like the hypocrite he was. “We have errands to run! I need to pick up the boutonniere made out of book pages that Mimi asked the librarian to make for Noelle, and then I need to stop by the diner to get the sandwich platter Collin made for today, and then we need to get back to the Christmasland for more birthday celebrations!”

“Can I help?” Sawyer asked, slipping his arm around Cole’s waist.