"Give our regards to the baby Jesus," Steve says as they walk off, chuckling to him and then turning to look at Maeve as she takes the pizza boxes from him. He follows her inside, shutting the door with his foot and setting the rest of the bags on the kitchen counter.

"Happy Christmas," he says, echoing her, because he likes that better, anyway. No one even says merry anymore.

"On the twelfth day of Christmas, your true love brought to you an absurd amount of dairy," he says as he pulls out the bottles of eggnog and brandy, holding up the latter. "Maybe we just stick to this."