Page 53 of Better Daddy

“Aren’t these so cool, Dad?”

I nod. My little lad looks adorable in anything. Even outlandish pajama sets.

He beams up at Cal, his hands clasped in front of him. “See? I told you he’d wear them too.”

My lungs seize up.What now?

Cal grins, his chest puffed out. “Uncle Brian, too, I hope. We’re a family, so it’s not Christmas unless we’re wearing matching pj’s.”

Murphy, who looks slightly less enthusiastic, steps up and sets two clear packages on the table. “Apparently, we all have to be elves. Lo and Aunt Sloane are changing into theirs too.”

In almost any other situation, I’d flat-out refuse to take part in my brother’s nonsense. But it’s Christmas. I want it to be perfect for both T.J. and Sloane. If T.J. wants us to wear matching pajamas, then I’m in.

“We’ll put them on,” I assure my son.

“You know what would be fun?” T.J.’s eyes dance in a way that concerns me. Like there’s a good chance he’s about to scale the side of the building like Spider-Man. Again.

“What? I need to know so we can have all the fun.” Cal claps a little too loudly. Since Murphy showed up unexpectedly a few months ago, it’s been my brother’s mission to make sure his son is happy. And having the best Christmas is important. I understand his obsession more than I ever thought I could.

“It’s fun that Santa will come,” Murphy assures his dad.

Cal’s expression darkens. Last week, when Murphy told us that Santa always skips his house, I thought my brother was going to book a flight to LA so he could curse Murphy’s mum out in person. Maybe ring her neck too.

Lo talked him down, and now Cal is focused on ensuring this Christmas is over-the-top enough to make up for the six lackluster years Murphy lived before meeting his father. My brother may irritate the piss out of me most days, but I have nothing but respect for how he handled unexpectedly becoming a father to a six-year-old.

I would not have been as easygoing had I discovered I had a child only when he was left at our office with nothing more than a backpack and a note. My brother never went on the attack, though. He just became the father Murphy needs. And that’s a feat for areformed man-child. He’s matured decades in the handful of months that Murphy’s been here.

“I think it would be fun if Murphy and I could have a sleepover in his room,” T.J. announces. “Right, Murphy?”

Murphy eyes his dad. “If it’s okay…”

“Anything you want,” my brother promises.

“Yes!” T.J. pumps a fist and bounces closer to his cousin. Then he whisper-shouts, “We can stay up and catch Santa together.”

“What?” Cal’s spine goes ramrod straight.

I chuckle. T.J.’s tried to catch Santa for the last two years, but there’s no way he won’t pass out before midnight. “You two go brush your teeth. Then we’ll readThe Night Before Christmasand get cookies out.”

“And everyone gets to open one present,” T.J. reminds us, as if we could possibly have forgotten that. All day he’s been talking about whose present he’ll open.

“I still think you should open mine.” Cal rocks back on his heels, smirking.

“Or…” T.J. drags the word out. “Maybe we should open one fromeach person.” He tilts his head and breaks into his most winning smile. The little bugger never quits. We’ve shot down the suggestion three times already today.

“T.J.,” I warn.

He giggles. “Okay. Only one present tonight.”

I point to the hall. “Teeth.”

With a nod, he turns to his cousin. “Let’s go. We can make a big bed out of blankets on your floor.” He darts toward Murphy’s room with Murphy a few steps behind him. Once the boys disappear, I stand up.

“They can’t catch Santa.” Cal’s panicked comment is directed at me.

I chuckle. “Don’t worry. They’ll be asleep in an hour. Come on.” I pick up both sets of pajamas off the table and toss one to Brian.

He swipes the bag out of the air and stands, knocking the cat’s head off his legs. The cat lets out ahow dare you?hiss in response.