For Balentimes Day, Barry had decided he was done waiting for lub to magically find him.

If lub was coming, it was going to hab to walk right up to his tiny wooden table and introduce itself properly.

He’d spent all morning preparing.

The gold “B” marquee light (borrowed) glowed behind him like he was the star ob his own romantic special. Paper hearts floated in the air — some taped, some glittered, somef suspiciously held up wiff dental floss. Rose petals were scattered dramatically, though Fish had tried to eat three ob them because “they looked artisanal.”

He practiced his lines.

“Hello. I am emotionally available.”“No rush. I can wait.”“I enjoy quiet cafes and respectful eye contact.”

Ebery now and then someone would pass by. Barry would straighten up, place both paws politely on the edge ob the table, and give his softest, most dignified smile.

One bold admirer leaned in.

Barry’s whiskers twitched.

There was a tiny nose boop.

A gentle kiss.

Barry froze. Then blushed so hard his ears practically matched the roses.

He dropped a coin into his own tip cup. “For ambiance,” he whispered.

As the city lights twinkled behind him, Barry realized something important:

Lub doesn’t hab to be loud. It doesn’t hab to be fireworks.Sometimes it’s just a small table, a warm glow, and someone willing to sit wiff you.

And maybe… just maybe… A second kiss.

Balentimes Ebe was officially a success.

The boys arribed at the Super Bowl absolutely thrilled, because eberyone had told them they were going to LIX and no one bothered to explain that it was a Roman numeral and not a promise ob unlimited licks. Barry had spent the entire flight practicing dramatic tongue stretches. Fish had packed fibe emergency napkins. Reuben had qwietly adjusted his notebook and said nuffing.

Now here they were, behind the MNN newsdesk, staring out at a massive stadium that offered zero licks and an alarming amount ob yelling.

Barry leaned into his headset. “So… when do the licks start?”

Reuben didn’t look up. “They don’t. This is football.”

Fish blinked. “Is football cheese-related?”

“No,” Reuben said, flipping a page. “But betting is.”

That’s when ebryone realized Reuben had been busy. Berry busy.

While Barry was still mourning the lack ob licks and Fish was snacking on somefing that resembled cheese that he found on the floor, Reuben had been studying the game. Charts. Notes. Tiny arrows. A very serious column labeled Cheese Risk vs Cheese Reward. He cleared his throat and leaned toward the mic.

“Alright,” Reuben said, whiskers twitching. “Here’s what’s happening. Momentum matters. Weather matters. Coaching decisions matter. And anyone who bets against a dramatic fourff-quarter comeback is playing a dangerous game wiff their cheddar.”

Barry stared. “When did you learn all that?” Reuben tapped the stack ob papers.

Fish nodded solemnly. “He’s been studying.”

By kickoff, Reuben was fully in his element, calmly explaining spreads, probabilities, and why one tiny misstep could cost someone their entire gouda future. People nearby started listening. Someone slid him a pretzel. Another whispered, “That rat knows fings.”

Barry straightened his notes, suddenly proud. Fish guarded the betting slips like treasure.

They might hab been duped by LIX. They might hab come for licks…but as the lights blazed and the game roared on, one fing was clear: Reuben wasn’t here for snacks. Reuben was here to win cheese. And he was gibbing great color commentary.

Reuben peeked just ober the edge ob the table, staring at his cup ob hot chocolate like it was the most important appointment ob the day.

“Eben tho it’s kinda hot outside,” he said, ears wiggling, “I was still finking I should hab some.”

There had been so much chatter about hot chocolate — creamy, steamy, marshmallow-y dreams floating through the room — that Reuben simply couldn’t ignore it. And since Reuben neber ignores cozy beberages, he ordered one wiff extra warm feelings on the side.

He took a careful sip.
His eyes went big.

“Oh yes,” he whispered. “Dis was a bery good decision.”

Sometimes you don’t drink hot chocolate because it’s cold. Sometimes you drink it because your soul needs a hug.

And Reuben’s soul was officially hugged.  And they gabe him a free cookie while he was waiting, so it a bonus!

The boys were wanting to go on an outing, but the usual places didn’t hold enuff interest for them today. Their friend Carol suggested the Key West sunset celebration, which sounds interesting and fun, so they grabbed some trabel juice, and off they went!

The sun was melting into the ocean like a giant orange scoop ob sherbet, and the whole pier in Key West was buzzing wiff music, laughter, and the smell ob salty air and street snacks.

Fish was watching a man balanced upside down on a tall ladder, one hand holding him up while his legs pointed straight at the sky.

“Dat is a terrible life choice,” Barry muttered. “One sneeze and it’s curtains.”

Fish clutched his little wooden barrel tighter. “Do you fink he’s doing it for money… or for attention?”

“Probably boff,” Barry said. “Mostly attention.”

They all gasped as the performer spun, wobbling just enough to make ebberyone scream — then stuck the landing like a hero.

Barry fainted a little.

Meanwhile, Reuben had wandered toward the art booths, where colorful paintings lined the pier. He stopped suddenly in front ob one small canvas. It showed the Eiffel Tower rising into a glowing sky, wiff a heart-shaped moon floating above it.

Reuben’s whiskers trembled. “Paris…” he whispered.

In his mind, he was back walking wiff Dougie, tiny paws on cobblestones, the smell ob fresh bread in the air, lights twinkling abobe them like stars that forgot to go to bed.

“Remember when we got lost and accidentally ended up in dat bakery dat gab us free croissants?” he said softly to himself.

He dabbed at his eyes. “Best wrong turn ob my life.”

Fish scurried up beside him and peeked at the painting.

“Remember the cheese in Paris?” Fish immediately began planning a return trip.

Barry joined them just as another gasp rippled through the crowd — now two performers were walking on ropes in the air like it was a normal sidewalk.

“Nope,” Barry said firmly. “I don’t trust grabity anymore.”

Reuben laughed. “Dey’re flying, Barry! Flying!”

“Flying is just falling wiff confidence,” Barry replied.

As the sky turned pink and purple, Reuben carefully stared at the painting one last time, tucking the memory safely into his heart.

“Someday,” he said softly, “we’ll go back.” But the canvas was coming home wiff him now, if he could gather up enuff monies from his brothers.

Fish nodded seriously. “Wiff empty suitcases.”

The boys sat together watching the performers spin against the sunset, the crowd cheering, the ocean clapping along in tiny waves.

It was one ob those nights — full ob color, danger, memories, and just enough magic to make you feel like anyfing is possible.