Page 111 of Altius
Oliebollen? The delicious-looking fried Dutch doughnut things from Kelsey’s cookbook?
“Oh, me, me!” I raised my hand and hurried over to take the apron, as if anyone would fight me for it.
Well, anyone except the twins, who echoed my motion, dancing in happy twirls by the Christmas tree. “Me, me!”
Joaquin laughed, a pleased thrum echoing through our bond.
As I followed Martijn into the kitchen, the dogs raced into the room.
Rory followed half a step later, holding a small mountain of presents. “Look who I found!”
Jacobi swept in behind him, arms outstretched. “The prodigal son has returned.”
Kelsey rolled her eyes and headed toward the dining room with a massive stack of plates. “Idiot.”
“Jacobi!” Martijn rushed to embrace him.
The other Van Daal parents soon joined, folding their bonus son into an affectionate tangle of laughter and hugs, welcoming him back to his home-away-from-home.
And I had to check my envy once more.
***
Lunch was nothing short of delicious, cheerful chaos.
The dining room was gigantic, with two matching custom-built square tables and ample seating. No wonder the Van Daals could host holiday parties for dozens of people with ease.
Holly and I discussed marketing strategies and design trends between bites of roast chicken and mashed potatoes.
Joaquin sat on my other side, asking Keon whether the floorboards were original and how much work they had to do to retrofit the place with central air.
To my surprise, Owen was engaged in a spirited conversation with one of Audra’s male pack members, who was feeding Liv with practiced ease. He had dark skin and a noble profile, the strapping sort of alpha my biological parents probably hoped I’d grow into.
Was his name Quinton or Quentin? I couldn’t remember.
I’d almost grasped the names and professions of Audra’s pack members when Ethan’s boisterous crew arrived from the basement, and my mind blanked out.
This must be how Morgan felt when meeting new people.
She sat across the table beside Dante, refereeing Jacobi’s non-stop chatter as he pestered Wyatt and Cal with questions.
Ethan chimed in from time to time to take a dig at Wyatt.
“Oh, give it a rest,” Rory said, pointing his fork at his older brother. “You’re never going to beat him.”
Ethan’s pack protested, but Rory wasn’t having it.
“He’s better at basketball than you lot combined,” Rory said, stabbing at his chicken. “And his biceps have biceps. You’re lucky he didn’t dislocate your shoulders during arm wrestling.”
“Oh?” Keon perked up, leaning forward to give Wyatt a critical glance. “I get first dibs after lunch.”
“You’re on.” Color suffused Wyatt’s face—a fuller, healthier-looking face. Spending more time with Morgan was good for him.
“Keon,” Renee gently chided from the far end of the table.
“What? I’m not some weak old man.”
Dante nodded in agreement. “That’s right. We’re in our prime.” He shot a wink at Renee. “And after Wyatt whoops his ass, I’ll prove it myself.”
