Page 30 of Over and Above (Mount Hope #4)

Chapter Thirty

Magnus

I stared down at the pot of soup, grateful there was no such thing as over stirring this particular potato soup recipe. Cooking with Eric was such a joy, and right now, such a heartache. Our unfinished conversation loomed between us, thick and murky, not unlike the brew of potatoes and vegetables.

“We have returned.” Wren trod into the kitchen, followed by Rowan and John, with a gust of cold air from outside. “No baby yet?”

“No baby yet.” Eric gestured at the kids’ coats and boots. “Shake out the snow and hang up your coats so we don’t end up with a wet mess.”

“The snow is really coming down now.” Rowan hung up his black wool peacoat, revealing his Guncle of the Year shirt from earlier. “I don’t miss this sort of cold in LA.”

“ We know .” John released a long-suffering sigh like he’d had quite enough talk about LA over the course of Rowan’s most recent visit.

“Hey, I miss all of you very much.” Rowan clapped John on the back. “Just not the weather.”

“Sorry.” Continuing to frown, John stepped away from Rowan’s embrace. “Sometimes it feels like everyone eventually leaves or moves on. Whatever.”

“I get it.” Rowan was unusually somber, an unspoken acknowledgment of all this family, and John specifically, had endured. The adoption from foster care. The loss of their other dad. Maren, then Rowan leaving. Maren back, but the upheaval of the pregnancy. And whatever the heck was going on with John and Caleb’s brother Scotty, who was away at college.

And Eric had been through all that plus more. Earlier, when I’d urged him to take a risk on us, I hadn’t truly considered the layers underneath his caution. The loss of his husband. The rejection of his bio family. And the concern for his kids, like John, who was always so serious. Maybe I was naive in assuming the kids would be fine with Eric dating or that it would be in their best interests.

Fuck. I gave the soup another hard stir as Eric approached the stove.

“Everything good with the soup? I should go change the sheets in my bedroom so Marissa can sleep there and be closer to the basement.”

“Let me.” I put the spoon on the metal spoon-rest before Eric could object. “I know where the linen closet is. You hang out with your kids. They need you more.”

I held his gaze, the truth of my words reflected back in his nod. The kids did need him more than I did. The kids and their needs had to come first. I was an outsider, at best, a family friend, a guest star in the lives of these teens. Perhaps I’d been a bit hasty in my demands.

Not liking where my thoughts were headed, I threw myself into gathering clean linens and changing the sheets in Eric’s room. Back in July, the room had been little more than storage, but he’d fully moved back into the space now. His uniform shirts hung in a neat row in the closet, sneakers and shoes beneath. An eReader and a white noise machine sat at right angles on the bedside table.

He’d come a long way on his grief journey simply in the time I’d known him. Who was I to rush him? I sighed in the empty bedroom. In an ideal world, we could talk more, and I could apologize for being strident. However, the house was overflowing with people.

Always room for one more , Eric had said. Was that all I was? Another rescue project? Another friend in need? Another problem to solve? I didn’t doubt our friendship, but perhaps I was alone in the depth of my feelings.

Task done and brain continuing to churn, I returned to the kitchen where Eric had dished up soup for the teens.

“Bedroom is done,” I told him. “I laid clean towels out in the bathroom as well.”

“Brilliant. Thank you.” He smiled at me, a genuine warmth there that made me sigh all over again. We were a fabulous team. And even if Eric needed me to go slower on the openly dating thing, I wanted him to see how right we were together.

“You want me to pick a movie in the living room?” Rowan asked Eric, glancing toward Wren. “That was a good distraction earlier.”

“Distraction is a great idea.” Eric nodded as he collected empty bowls and spoons.

“I agree.” Maren emerged from the basement, followed by Marissa and Diesel.

“Maren!” Wren leaped off their stool to rush over.

“Can we not make a big deal?” Maren dodged a hug. “I feel silly that the contractions simply stopped all of a sudden.”

“Don’t feel silly. It’s your first time.” Marissa was all soothing words and chill vibes. “Of course it’s all new. You did the right thing calling me. It still might be within the next twenty-four hours. And look, your dads made soup.”

Dads. Her unintentional plural there hurt , a deep pinch in the center of my chest. I was Diesel’s father and Maren’s in-law, but I wasn’t ever going to be the second dad in this house.

“I could eat.” Maren looked surprised by her own hunger. She packed away a decent-sized bowl of soup before joining everyone else for a movie. I could have escaped back to the carriage house, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts and I wanted to stick around in case Maren’s labor kicked back up.

However, halfway through a buddy cop movie, the only thing in high gear seemed to be Maren’s appetite.

“You know what this movie needs? Popcorn. With lots of butter. And salt. And not the microwave kind.” Maren made popcorn sound equivalent to hazelnut truffles.

“And cocoa,” Wren added, gesturing at the snow continuing to fall as the hour crept later.

“That’s brilliant.” Maren smiled. “Cocoa and popcorn.”

“Coming right up.” I was already on my feet and headed to the kitchen.

“I’ll help.” Diesel was right behind me, leaving Eric to frown from his place in the recliner.

“I’ll leave you two to it, but let me know if you need help.”

“Sorry.” Diesel bumped his head when going into the pantry to fetch a container of popcorn kernels. “I know you and Eric usually cook together. I’m just desperate to do something useful.”

“I know the feeling.” I patted him on the shoulder as I found another big, heavy-bottomed stock pot with a lid. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing a great job supporting Maren.”

“She told me to put away the labor app on my phone.” He sounded utterly dejected, so I gave him another pat, this one more of a hug.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate your help.”

“I know.” He blew out a breath that ruffled his blue hair. “Patience isn’t either of our strong suits. I hate not knowing.”

Patience. That was exactly what I’d been lacking. I didn’t like not knowing where this thing with Eric was headed. And I was impatient, what with my long list of things I wanted to do with him a couple. But maybe, like Diesel, I needed to find more chill.

“Join the club.” I set up the pot for popcorn with oil and kernels. I shook the pot, wishing I could shake some sense into myself. As I handled the popcorn, I directed Diesel into making old-fashioned hot cocoa in another pan on the stove, the two of us working side by side. “People have tried and failed to predict babies for millennia.”

“Yep. Marissa keeps reminding us that due dates are simply a guesstimate.”

“Moon cycles.” Wren wandered through the kitchen, undoubtedly lured by the intoxicating aroma of toasty corn and butter. “Also, cervical ripeness is a good indicator, not that Maren wishes to discuss that.”

“Understandable.” I gulped, not really wanting to think about cervixes right then.

“I’m worried,” Diesel said as Wren continued on to the bathroom in the hallway.

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t.” I pitched my voice as reassuringly as possible. “There’s a lot going on. Maren. The baby. The snow.”

Diesel made a pained noise like I’d missed the point. “What if I suck as a dad?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?” He stirred too hard, cocoa splashing. “See? I can’t even do hot chocolate.”

“Because I know you.” I wiped up the spill before he could heap more blame on himself. “I’ve watched you do more research the last few months than you did in four years of high school. You’ve got this.”

“Even after everything I’ve read and all the podcasts I’ve listened to at work, I still feel like I’ve got no clue what I’m doing.”

“We all feel like that.” I chuckled because here I was, about to be a grandparent, still as clueless as the day Flo had set him in my arms. “And I’m sad to tell you, it doesn’t go away. I worry about doing the right thing by you every day.”

“You?” Diesel made a startled noise. “You’re a great dad. Couldn’t ask for better.”

“Thank you. But we all start out clueless and stay that way. Nothing’s more humbling than parenthood.”

And hell. Talk about humble pie. Unlike my twenty years of figuring out parenthood on the fly, I had zero clue how to handle a relationship. Maybe I truly was being cocky, making demands. Eric at least had a history of relationship success. What if I convinced him to give us a shot, and then I screwed it up? And then all his fears about awkwardness came true?

“Amen. I learn something every day as a parent.” The man in question came strolling in right as a fresh wave of doubts washed over me. My dismay must have shown because Eric added, “Sorry. Not trying to interrupt. Just came to see if you needed help?”

“Almost done.” My voice was as tight as my throat. “You want to grab the marshmallows?”

“Absolutely.”

“You think if we practice, Maren and I can be as good a team as you two?” Diesel gestured between us.

“We’re just friends who work well together,” Eric answered quickly as if afraid I might say otherwise.

“I know you’re friends.” Diesel rolled his eyes. “Thank God. How awkward would it be if you weren’t?”

How awkward indeed.