Page 16 of Our Pucking Secret (2-Hour Quickies #4)

Logan

“That wreath’s crooked,” Amanda calls from the kitchen, where she’s arranging cookies. “Like that cross-check you took two days ago.”

“Hey, I still scored after that hit.” I adjust the wreath. “Beauty goal. Almost as beautiful as you.”

She peeks out with a smirk. “Almost?”

“Okay, fine. The goal was nothing compared to you.”

“Says the man who once thought a quickie in a Zamboni was romantic.”

“It is romantic.”

“Says the man who—”

“—lives with you and clearly has great taste.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can hear the smile behind it.

Our first Christmas-slash-birthday dinner is full of warmth and noise—exactly how I imagined holidays with our whole family would be.

Afterward, we’re all sprawled around the living room, bellies full, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the walls.

“I still think it’s wild that our kids have the same birthday,” Elizabeth says, beaming. “Maybe that’s why they’re such a good match. You know—astrology and all.”

Patricia offers a polite smile. “I don’t believe in astrology.” Her gaze shifts to Amanda and me. “But I agree they’re good for each other.”

The Collinses are still riding the high of their first Broadway show. Dad thanks me again for the tickets, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe we finally left Bellwood,” he says. “All those lights… Like something out of a dream.”

“Happy you enjoyed it, Dad,” I say, and he pulls me in for a hug.

“Thanks, son.”

Our moms are deep in debate over who should’ve been cast in some play they both loved, while Laurent plays peacekeeper with a brandy in hand and that dry humor Amanda says she’ll still inherit one day.

My brother Jett and his fiancée Allegra sit beside me on the couch, content and sleepy from dessert.

Across the room, Annalise drapes herself onto the armrest of Amanda’s chair, grinning.

“I always wanted a sister, you know?” she says, linking their arms. “Sometimes I even wished Logan had been a girl.”

Amanda laughs softly. She’s probably thinking If you only knew, but says nothing.

“Sisters for real now,” Annalise adds, extending her pinkie for her new bestie to hook it.

Amanda glances at me, eyes warm with something private. I grin back, all complicity. The bond that brought us here will always be our pucking secret .

“Actually,” Annalise says, nudging Amanda’s shoulder, “I was gonna ask you something. I have this group of best friends—Allegra’s in it too. We call ourselves the Alpha Femmes.” She grins. “Total coincidence we all have names that start with A. Or maybe fate.”

Amanda laughs. “Sounds dangerously fun.”

“Oh, it is.” Annalise’s eyes sparkle. “Our group chats are pure chaos, we’re ride-or-die when it counts. and our girls’ nights out usually end with someone singing karaoke badly. I’d love to bring you to the next one.”

Amanda smiles. “Who’s in it?”

“Allegra, her twin Alexandra, and me... and now you. Having a name that starts with A might as well have been a requirement.” She squeezes Amanda’s arm. “You’ll fit right in. Two sets of sisters now. I’m so happy.”

Amanda leans into Annalise’s side, their arms linked, both of them glowing with that just-found-family kind of joy.

I rise, clearing my throat. “Quick update before dessert round two. The new house is coming along great. We’ll have enough space for our own dogs, finally.”

There are murmurs of approval and a few playful barks from Jett.

I glance toward John. “Dad, you and Mom should come spend a few weekends with us once we move in. I’ve got season tickets with your name on them—and we’ll send the plane tickets early so you’ve got time to make arrangements.”

John beams. “How awesome is it to have a hockey player for a son, right?” He elbows Laurent, grinning. “Second-best thing to being a star yourself.”

Laurent chuckles, brandy in hand. “I suppose we’re both lucky, then.” He lifts his glass. “Though technically, I have two.”

From the couch, Jett pipes up, “Hey—I’m right here, you know.”

John laughs. “You're always welcome to be my son too. Logan can be the mascot.”

The whole room bursts out laughing as the dads clink glasses, brandy sloshing, pride all over their faces.

I give a sharp whistle. “Hey—people. I’m not finished.”

The laughter quiets. I wait a beat. “We’re getting married.”

Silence—then cheers, hugs, and happy tears.

“And we’re both changing our names to Collins-LaRue,” Amanda adds.

“LaRue-Collins sounds better,” Patricia chimes automatically.

Elizabeth tilts her head. Then she smiles. “I agree.” And before anyone can react, she pulls Patricia into a hug.

Patricia hugs her back.

And just like that, something in the room settles. Like a puzzle finding its final piece.