Heart's Desire

Chapter 18 - Monty

"Hm? Oh... sure." He smiles gratefully. "It's all done, just needs serving."

I follow him to the kitchen — another expanse of granite and steel — and see an array of dishes lined up on the counter, ready to be carried to the table.

"Wow. You went all out, huh?"

He laughs. "Elena thought..."

He stops and swallows, and his face twitches with conflicting emotions.

"Well, she thinks we're entertaining the new Alpha, you know. Dane, that is."

"Dane?"

Martin pulls off his mitts and pairs serving utensils with the various dishes. "Yeah. I mean, if mom and dad are... Then Dane is..."

"Right." I rub the back of my neck. I'd thought of that, of course, but not about how it would affect everyone, exactly. I'd just moved to Spring Lakes, and I'd been enjoying the peace and relative solitude — the chance to settle down somewhere I felt I fit, for once. Now, everything might change.

"Anyway, I told her something simple would be fine, but she..." He bites his lip. "Well, let's get this food on the table before it goes cold!"

Martin reaches for a dish, but I guess he forgot the reason he was wearing the mitts. He yelps and drops it, and a whole mountain of mashed potatoes explodes across the floor, mixed with broken glass.

He gasps and stares down at the mess, and then, to my alarm, he shuts his eyes and falls against the smooth surface of his stainless-steel fridge, sliding to the floor with his hands over his eyes.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath. "Fuck me, and fuck my fucking life..."

Launching into instinctive action, I grab a roll of paper towels and start wiping up the mess.

"It's fine, Martin. Nobody will miss what they didn't know was coming. Accidents happen, as mom used to say."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wince.

Not the time to quote one's missing mom.

"Anyway." I pat Martin's shoulder. "It'll be okay. Don't worry about this — I got it. You bring the rest of everything out, and tell 'em I... needed to use the restroom, or something."

Martin nods, his palms still pressed against his eyes, then takes a shuddering breath and climbs slowly to his feet.

"Thanks, Monty," he says. "I'm sorry. It's just... Things pile up, you know? And then one more thing, no matter how small..."

"The straw that broke the camel's back," I say, smiling. "That's an old saying for a reason, I guess."

He laughs under his breath, a little of the tension draining from his face. "You know, you're smarter than you give yourself credit for, Monty. You always have been. And no matter what, you're always kind. I... I admire you for that."

Having regained his composure, he takes the rest of the food out to the table, and I finish scooping up the hot potatoes and glass.

Too bad, too; it looks delicious.

~ ☾ ~

Martin and Elena's children range in age from six to ten, and there are four of them: Nico, Flora, Miguel, and Rio.

They enter the dining room, herded by their mother, and looking as if they've been stuffed into 'dinner' clothes with assembly line efficiency, their hair still wet from a quick slicking with a comb.

One of the younger twins—Nico—hangs back with wide eyes and a pout, taking in the host of strangers seated at the table with mild hostility.

"Nico, come sit down," Martin calls, beckoning at an empty chair.