“It’s called joie de vivre, Granny,” Tristan said, gliding into the room with masculine grace as if he wasn’t carrying one child on his shoulders and another on his forearm. “It’s French for poor holiday planning skills.”
Granny swatted Tristan’s thigh as he walked past her to deposit his kids at the long kitchen table. “Stay,” he commanded the two girls. Their metaphorical halos stopped spinning the minute his back was turned. They scrambled down and snuck over to paw through the Honey’s bag I still held.
I snuck a cookie to each of them and warned them to sneak back to the table before their dad caught them misbehaving.
“Yes, Uncle Miller,” Ella said politely. The kids were used to calling everyone “aunt” and “uncle,” so it was probably no big deal for Ella Marian, but for me… well, it was unexpectedly sweet.
When I glanced back at Tristan in time to see him wink at me, my heart felt warm and full. These people were incredibly kind and welcoming even though they hadn’t known of my existence in the family tree until a year ago. Despite already having plenty of people to include in their family events, they hadn’t hesitated to make room for me, too.
I cleared my throat. “I once worked the holiday season at the gift-wrapping kiosk in the mall. If anyone needs any help…”
Within moments, I was whisked away to the large sunroom by several eager takers until I was elbow-deep in wrapping paper, ribbon, scissors, and tape. The bright Colorado sun shone into the large windows and streaked across my worktable, and someone had put holiday music on the sound system. The tree lights flickered and the fire crackled while I demonstrated my special method of making bows. Sassy helped loop the ribbon, and Augie cut short lengths to tie the loops together with. We ended up making a kind of assembly line until the stack of beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree began to grow.
“You’re handling everything very well,” Augie said softly after a while.
“I’m good with my fingers. My mom begged me to take piano when I was younger,” I admitted.
He chuckled softly. “No, I mean the family. The overwhelming Wilde-ness of this crew. It’s… a lot.”
I looked around the room at the Marians and Wildes who’d wandered in after breakfast and found somewhere to sit in the large, comfortable gathering space. Doc was grinning into his coffee mug while Grandpa whispered something in his ear. Rebecca was gently pressing Thad on when he was going to stop traveling the world and settle down, preferably in the Bay Area. Griff was sprawled out on the floor stacking blocks for little Wolfe while his husband, Sam, scratched his back under an old wash-worn T-shirt that seemed to have said Made Marian at some point.
“They’re good people,” I said to Augie. “And I’m so grateful I found them… you… but I can’t deny it takes some getting used to.”
His giggle turned into a snort. Augie’s laughter was contagious. After we both dissolved into a fit of laughter, Saint walked over to see what was so funny. He lifted his much-smaller husband off his chair, stole his seat, and then pulled Augie back down on his lap. “Something set you off. What was it?”
“Understatement,” he stammered. “We’re talking about your family.”
Saint pressed a kiss into Augie’s temple. “Pretty sure I have a piece of paper that makes them your family, too, sweetheart.” He glanced away from Augie enough to smile at me. “But I get it. Sometimes being around these guys is more chaotic than being packed into a submarine like sardines.”
“I didn’t come from a big family either,” Augie admitted. “And what I had of them wasn’t at all welcoming. So it took me some time to get used to being around the Wildes.”
“And then we found out about Grandpa’s extended family, and shit got super nuts,” Saint said. “Have we thanked you for that yet?”
Augie punched Saint on his broad shoulder and muttered an apology to me, but I knew he was just teasing. Anyone who cared about Grandpa and Tilly could see how grateful they were to be in one another’s lives again.
“Where did Tilly and the ladies go?” I asked.
“Shopping,” Felix said, moving over to nudge Saint and Augie out of the chair next to mine. “Beat it. I need professional help with this one, and Miller is my only hope.”
He plunked down an oddly shaped wooden piece that looked like either a fraternity spanking paddle or an old-fashioned game of some kind. I blinked up at him.
“Beg your pardon?”
Felix sighed. “Tabletop cornhole. You try buying something for a damned king. It’s not as easy as one would think.”
Saint snickered. “Lior is obsessed with Americana. Good choice, cuz.”
Felix waved him away and slid the corn hole game at me. “Good luck and Godspeed. If you need to get out of any dodgy international kerfuffles, hit me up. I’ll totes owe you one after this, and I have access to an intelligence agency.”