Page 113 of Altius
Morgan’s family was more wonderful than I’d imagined. And maybe someday…this could also be my family.
Our family.
Twenty-Six
Morgan
“Ugh, I’m so tired.” Kelsey exited the elevator first, lugging her suitcase and several bags of presents. It was almost midnight, a few hours later than planned, due to a bad accident on the interstate.
“We’re halving the menu next year,” she said. “I’m exhausted. Peeling that many potatoes is ridiculous.”
“You’ll get your second wind in a bit,” I said, sending Jacobi a thumbs-up emoji on the sly.
As we approached our unit, a familiar melody was audible through the door—Beethoven’s “Für Elise.”
Kelsey paused, crinkling her nose as she tried to figure out what was happening, no doubt worried that she’d left the stereo system on for three days.
Bypassing her, I opened the door, revealing the freshly polished grand piano, decked out in an enormous red velvet bow, gleaming beside the lit fireplace.
And my ever-sensible sister, my rock, squealed with delight.
“You didn’t!” she said, latching onto my arm.
“Oh, I did. With a bit of help.”
I glanced at the front door of unit 602, which was open just a smidge, and shook my head at the pair of peeping mates.
“That’s the exact model I was going to ask you for,” she half-squeaked. “It’s Jacobi’s, isn’t it?”
Pulling Kelsey in for a prolonged hug, I kissed her temple. “No—it’syours.”
“With my blessing,” Jacobi said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of champagne flutes full of sparkling cider. He set the tray on the coffee table, then turned off the music blaring from his phone.
“Now come, regale me, darling Kels. Make me believe the rush fee for getting this blasted behemoth tuned at the last minute was worth it.”
Kelsey dumped her things on the couch, pulled off her coat, and went to the piano, wasting no time beginning a live rendition of “Für Elise.”
As I turned to close the door, I was surprised to find that we had an audience. A grinning Wyatt leaned against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, while Joaquin and Alijah cuddled in the open doorway. Owen was visible in the background, sitting in the leather chair by the bookshelves, pretending to read.
Lunch with my parents? A bit uncomfortable at first, but doable.
Text messages? Manageable.
But this was too much.
It made me feel like they’d been waiting for hours to welcome me home.
“Goodnight,” I said, pushing the door shut.
“Goodnight,” three men responded in near unison while the fourth watched my every move with that flinty stare of his.
That night, Jacobi and I stayed up late, huddled together in the library nest, sharing a pot of tea and nibbling on his mom’s double chocolate muffins, eavesdropping as Kelsey quietly played piece after piece on the other side of the fireplace.
***
The crowd roared as the Narwhals scored another touchdown. We were late in the second half of the quarterfinal game, and the home-field advantage for winning the conference championship was helping. They were up twenty-eight to ten.
Without a single pheromone spike to show for it.
