Page 38 of Over and Above

“Perfect.” And this really was. A whole family to come home to, happy dogs, happy kids, happy person to cuddle with on the couch. Happyme. I wanted more nights exactly like this, and if sneaking around was the price to pay, so be it.

Chapter Twenty

Eric

Thanksgiving dawned cold and clear and far too early. I’d been up late finishing pies with Magnus’s help. We’d had a wonderful, brandy-fueled night topped with sneaky shower fun, but now I had a house full of people and meal prep was in full swing. No time for thinking about brandy-laced kisses, roving hands, or anything other than getting all the varied dishes done on time.

But even without the possibility of stolen kisses, Magnus and I worked together all morning in orchestrated perfection, as easy as if we’d done this for years. Which would be unsettling, but I’d made a conscious decision to relax and enjoy. No point in adding the stress of deep thinking to our day.

“I need?—”

“Salt? Right here.”

“Where’s the?—”

“Oven mitts? Here’s one.”

“Did you?—”

“Mac-n-cheese is already in the oven.”

“Did you get a chance to?—”

“Salad is prepped.”

As we continued finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating what the other needed, Maren wandered up from the basement carrying a small pan of gingerbread she’d had a last-minute craving for. “Where are we putting?—”

“The dessert table is in the breakfast nook.” Looking up mid-whisk of a vinegarette, Magnus gestured to the table laden with pies and other goodies before I could.

“You guys are like a surgical team.” Maren gave an approving whistle as she added the gingerbread to the table.

“Yeah, can it be like this every year?” Diesel hugged her from behind.

“I agree. Everything is on schedule.” Wren was stationed at the kitchen island, checking things off an impressive spreadsheet.

My chest pinched. I wanted that too, wanted every holiday to be this easy and fun, but at the same time, my neck tensed because it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Someone important was missing, and not dwelling on that felt disloyal. Yet I only had to look around the kitchen at the smiling faces to know this had been the right call. Magnus and I made an excellent team.

Buteveryyear? Probably not. The kids would scatter, Magnus would get a new house, and the chances of us all coming together regularly would inevitably lessen. The tightness in my chest worsened, want giving way to worry. Luckily, before any of the others could notice the shift in my mood, the doorbell sounded.

“Someone get the door!” John shouted as he clattered down the steps. Maren and Diesel beat him to the door as the first of the guests arrived.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Firefighter Suzy!” Maren greeted a long-term first responder friend and her girlfriend, who were quickly followed by Jonas and Declan. Despite my orders that we were handling the food, everyone had things to add, so they all trooped into the kitchen.

“Jonas! Tell me how the new job is going?” Suzy asked as she busied herself making room for a spectacular pecan pie on the dessert table.

While Suzy and Jonas played catch up, Declan admired Maren’s cute prairie-style maternity dress. “Look at you! That baby must be bigger than the turkey.”

“Actually, no.” Maren pursed her lips. “I keep measuring slightly small for dates.”

“You’re a small person.” Declan gave her a fast hug. “I’m sure it’s within the realm of normal.”

“That’s what Marissa, my midwife, keeps saying.” Maren slumped against Diesel, who was hovering nearby as always. “But she wants me to have extra monitoring, like another ultrasound, just to be cautious. I hate going over to the hospital.”

“I’m going with you.” Diesel spoke up first, but I was a close second.

“And if he can’t go, I’ll go.” This was the first I was hearing of any concern, and I tried to keep my tone positive. My anti-home birth attitude was undoubtedly playing a role in Maren confiding in me less, and I resolved to try to be even more supportive despite my reservations. “And Declan’s right—I’ve seen yours and Rowan’s birth certificates. You were each barely six pounds. Normal is a pretty big range.”

“Thanks, Dad.” To my shock, Maren crossed to the stove where I was monitoring potatoes and hugged me.

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