Page 45 of Over and Above

“I thought you’d never ask.” I matched Eric’s happy, almost silly tone as I fetched a large skillet and the oil from the pantry. I knew my way around this kitchen as well as any I’d worked in over the years. Cooking here felt like sliding into my favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable. Easy. Natural. I fit in here, and after a lifetime of traveling, I knew full well how rare that homey, settled feeling could be.

Indeed, I’d owned my prior house for several years and had never felt this deep sense of peace working in that kitchen. Probably because said kitchen had lacked an Eric, humming next to me, working in quiet concert.

“Why do we have to eat food then presents?” Wren kept glancing over toward the dining room and living area beyond. At some point after Thanksgiving, a small tree had appeared and been duly decorated by the kids. More seasonal decor graced the mantel and numerous other spots, including the snowman oven mitts Eric used to pull the bacon from the oven.

“Because we’re civilized like that,” he said mildly as he dished up the food. “And some of us are hungry.”

“The dogs didn’t have to wait for their presents.” Wren motioned at the dogs, who had found new toys waiting on their beds in the breakfast nook and were now chomping away.

“Coffee.” Rowan swept down the back stairs in flannel pants and a black silk robe, a combo that would be comical on anyone else. I poured him a cup before he reached the kitchen island. “Bless.” He offered a grateful grin, eyes widening like he was only now registering my presence. “Magnus. Did you sleep over?”

“Uh. No.” The skin at the back of my neck heated. “Diesel fetched me.”

“Well, flannel suits you.” Rowan’s gaze turned decidedly appreciative, and Eric made a strangled noise, looking up from arranging biscuits on a platter.

“Rowan.”

“And you look good too, Dad. Don’t get jealous.” Rowan laughed lightly, clearly out to rile Eric. “I’ve got compliments for everyone. And gifts.”

“Do they all have your show logo on them?” Wren used a suspicious tone.

“Not all.” Rowan waved a hand before snagging a biscuit. “How many of your gifts are alive?”

“Define alive.” Wren turned cagey, looking back at the living room again.

“Wren.” John paused in piling a plate high with food. “Please tell me there’s no ant farm this year.”

“You liked that gift.”

“Until it shattered and Dad had to pay for an exterminator,” John countered as several of the others groaned in sympathy.

“I was willing to test a new deterrent compound.” Wren shook their head with another guilty glance toward the tree.Uh-oh.I hoped John’s gift wasn’t a spider or worse.

Not surprisingly, a short time later, after we had devoured the mountain of breakfast food, Wren was first to lead the charge toward the living room.

“Everyone’s done with food. Presents!”

Eric cast a longing glance at the sink full of dishes.

“I’ll help later,” I said, giving his shoulder a fast pat on our way to the living room where Maren had Diesel distributing fuzzy stockings.

“And a stocking for you.” Diesel passed one to me.

“For me?” Although I’d snuck my own presents under the tree a few days earlier, I hadn’t expected much, if anything, in return.

“You’re part of the household.” Eric nodded like this was a simple fact. “Maren insisted.”

“It’s mainly candy,” Wren shared, looking up from their own haul. “Don’t be too impressed.”

I slipped most of my candy onto Wren and Diesel’s piles but kept a few fancy pieces for later, along with a bag of gourmet popcorn kernels that had to be Eric’s doing. After stockings, Diesel continued his unofficial Santa role, handing out presents and ensuring that Maren was the first to open hers from him.

“I love it.” Maren held up the ring, which the jeweler had done a wonderful job restoring and resizing. The center stone gleamed in the light from the front window. Outside, snow continued to gust, the white Christmas vibes continuing.

“Put it on,” Rowan urged, phone camera ready.

“Oh. This makes it seem so much more real.” Maren slid the ring on her slim finger. “Well, not that the baby dancing on my bladder isn’t real, but…”

“I get it,” I said softly. Sharing yet another holiday with this family made things real for me as well. I saw Maren and her growing belly on the regular, but the baby and all the associated changes seemed that much more real and overwhelming this morning. And whatever I had going on with Eric felt that much harder to ignore as well. What we had wasrealin a way past connections had never been.

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