"So, it's a family tradition, then?" Sky asks, rinsing the soapy dish I hand him and setting it in the rack to dry.

I nod. "Basically. We get together, have a big meal, a bonfire, drinks for the adults, music, games. That sort of thing."

"Like Vikings?"

I glance at him, wondering where he gets his information. "Sure, like Vikings."

He laughs. "I love it. And I'm invited?"

"Obviously. That's why..." I glance down at the soapy water, feeling oddly shy, like I'm back in high school trying (and failing) to ask Parker Raine to go out with me. "That's why I brought it up."

Coincidentally, Flora and Miguel's twelfth birthday falls close enough to the full moon for Flora's Shifting celebration to double as a birthday party. It may or may not serve as Miguel's Shifting celebration, too.

While girls mature a little faster than boys, twins (or triplets) tend to stick together. Travis, Noah, and I Shifted at 13. Travis was the only one of us who'd been truly ready, but Noah and I would have rather eaten dog food than be left behind. Whether Miguel will feel likewise compelled remains to be seen.

"I'm honored you asked," Sky says.

His careful tone makes me think there's a 'but' coming, and I flinch. "It's fine if you can't come," I say quickly. "I just thought—"

"What time?"

I look over at him and find him watching me with a kind, if amused, smile.

"What?"

"I said, 'what time?' I'd love to come."

"You... would?"

"Absolutely. Flora and Miguel are wonderful young people with promising futures. Of course I'd love to celebrate that."

"Oh." I lower my gaze again as I fish for the next dish in the soapy water, but the sink is empty. I glance at the drying rack and see that it's full. Time flies when you're agonizing over what to say next. "Thanks. I mean... I hope you can make it. Flora and Miguel — all the kids, actually — they respect you a lot."

"And like me, too, I hope." He laughs.

I turn away, just in case the warmth in my face looks like a blush — which it's definitely not.

"They love you," I say, as I wipe down the countertops with a rag. "I mean, they love having you here. It's a positive change."

When he doesn't reply in a reasonable amount of time, I turn and find him watching me keenly.

"And what about you?" he asks. "You always put the kids first, but your feelings matter, too. Do you mind having me here?"

I turn away again and resume polishing the counters, which are already clean. "Not at all. You're saving my butt."

"Saving it for myself, maybe."

I inhale some spit and choke — something I seem at risk of doing quite often in Sky's presence. I hear the sink running as I cough, and turn to find him holding out a glass of water for me. I take it, manage to down a gulp without dying, and blink at him through watering eyes.

"You're what?"

He frowns. "I simply mean that if I'm 'saving your butt,' my motives are selfish. This arrangement benefits me as much as it does you."

"Oh."

I swear this man will be the death of me. It doesn't help I find him increasingly attractive the more time we spend together — and not just physically. Sure, he's got a great body and a face that would make Greek gods jealous, but he's kind and charming and interesting, too.

He's perfect — too perfect for someone like me — and it's dangerous to even imagine otherwise. Which I may have been doing off and on, now and then, whenever his weirdly ambiguous words put strange thoughts into my brain.

"So, this 'celebration,'" he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter as he watches me catch my breath. "Is it a formal occasion? Should I bring a gift?"

Grateful for the redirection, I shake my head. "It's just a family gathering. Nothing formal."

"Wonderful," he says, smiling as his eyes meet mine. "I look forward to it."

〜〜〜

Aside from hoping Flora (and maybe Miguel) has a wonderful Shifting celebration, I'm not looking forward to it at all.

Inviting everyone had been hard enough, despite having given in to my cowardly impulses and sent invitations by email or text, rather than by phone. The only person I'd called directly was my mom, who'd sounded almost painfully happy to hear from me, and broke down in tears when I gave her the good news.

Everyone could come — some putting their own lives and important plans on hold just for the sake of it. To combat my guilt, I had to remind myself that they weren't doing it for me, but for Flora.

As our Alpha, Dane would host the party at his place, and — as per custom — our other siblings and friends would handle the planning and prep. All we had to do was show up.

I'd also specified that non-Wolf guests were welcome — at least for the first phase of the celebration — which meant no Wolf-business until they left. We'd gather in the afternoon, eat, drink, and make merry until sunset, and enjoy a grand feast. Later still, after the uninitiated had gone home, Flora (and maybe Miguel) would Shift and we'd celebrate as Wolves.

The kids grow more excited with each passing day, and my dread grows proportionally, so that by the morning of the celebration — a fine October Saturday — they're jumping with joy and I'm jumping out of my skin at the slightest provocation.

"Need any help?"

Sky's voice at my back startles me, and the icing-laden cookie I'm transferring to a plate flies out of my hands and lands icing-side-down on the floor.

"Daddy!!" Nico wails in protest. "You ruined it!"

The cookies are his and Rio's contribution to the feast, and I'm in the middle of helping them prepare the treats for transport.

"Sorry, sorry!" I scoop up the unfortunate cookie and grimace at the little sample of floor detritus embedded in the sugary topping. Time to vacuum again. "It's okay. This one will be mine. I'll save it for later, and there'll still be plenty for everyone."

Nico crosses his arms and huffs, on the verge of irrational tears, when Sky comes to the rescue.

"Why, these are beautiful!" he says, leaning over to admire the cookies. "Works of edible art. Did you get them from a French bakery?"

He winks at me over the top of Nico and Rio's heads. The cookies look like exactly what they are: cookies baked and decorated by a pair of seven-year-old boys.

Rio giggles. "No, silly Mister Sky! We made them!"

"No! Really?"

"Really!" Nico insists, tears and dropped cookie forgotten.

I step back, happy to let Sky work his charms, and watch as he deftly configures the cookies on the covered plate. Minutes later, Nico and Rio dash away, hopefully burning off the sugar rush before we leave for the party. Apparently, the making of icing requires a lot of taste tests.

"You seem on edge," Sky says as he helps me carry the cookies, a case of sparkling cider, and a bowl of potato salad (vegetarian, for my brother Monty) out to his van. "Do you not get on well with your family?"

I wince. "No. We're all fairly close, but... Well, there were some difficulties surrounding the separation with my wife, and I... wasn't my best self."

"Ah. They haven't forgiven you?"

"No, no. They have. It's just that they want me to move on, and I... I guess I'm not ready."

"Romantically?"

I look up at him, a denial on my lips, but nod, instead. I can't exactly explain the whole Mate-bond issue without outing myself and/or convincing him I'm crazy. "Yeah. Pretty much. They just want me to be happy."

"I see. I can't wait to meet them all."

I check my watch and feel my heart speed up, fueled by high octane anxiety.

"No time like the present," I say. "Let's get the kids ready, and we'll go."

"Let's," he says, and smiles.

I give myself a mental kick. I'd included him so naturally; maybe I'm the one who needs to be careful not to get used to having him around.

Some minutes later, Flora, Nico, and Rio dash downstairs and out to Sky's van. Miguel descends at a slower, more reluctant pace, looking about as enthusiastic for the whole thing as I feel. Guessing the reason, I pull him aside.

"Hey, mijo. You make up your mind?"

He shrugs half-heartedly.

I wrap him in a one-armed hug and kiss the top of his head, my other hand holding a bag of overnight things for the kids. "You know I'm with you, whatever you decide. Just go with your heart, okay? If you're ready, you're ready. If not, you'll get your own Shifting celebration."

He nods sullenly, but appears to cheer up a little, nonetheless.

The ride to Dane's passes quickly, and we arrive to see two huge, pavilion-style tents erected in the meadow outside his little house — one with an outdoor kitchen, grill, and long tables, and the other enclosed by cloth walls, probably a place for those staying the night to sleep and change.

Milling about beneath the open tent are my parents, my siblings, and my sibling's mates, children and friends — close to thirty people, including us.

"Which ones are you related to?" Sky asks, eyeing the crowd with raised brows.

"Most of them," I say, and laugh. "That's my mom and dad — Astrid and Joseph — and my brothers Dane and Monty. The two by the grill are my fellow triplets, Travis and Noah, and those are my sisters Freya, Sasha, and Ingrid over there." I point out each in turn, and grimace as I see that we've been spotted.

While the kids rush to greet their uncles, aunts, and cousins, I feel as if each step is weighted with lead as Sky and I walk towards the gathering.

Setting the potato salad among the many other dishes covering the tables, I force myself to smile and greet everyone. The smiles on the faces surrounding me are genuine, and I begin to relax, but when my father pulls me into a warm, wordless embrace, something inside me breaks a little.

He's a good, kind man, and the kind of father I strive to be. Without speaking, he speaks volumes, telling me exactly what he wants me to hear — above all, that he loves me.

I'm desperate for that love, but it's a gift I don't deserve.

He releases me and wipes his eyes. He looks older than when I saw him last, and his hands shake a little.

"It's good to see you, Martin," he says, taking a deep breath and smiling before turning to Sky. "And who is this strapping young man? Won't you introduce me?"

"Dad, this is Skylar West," I say. "He teaches art at the kids' school. Sky, this is my dad, Joseph."

Sky shakes my father's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir. And please," he adds, "call me Sky."

Then he reaches over and slips his arm around my waist.

A ring of familiar faces express varying levels of surprise, but none come even close to matching the shock (no doubt clearly visible) on my own.