Chapter 221

#Chapter 221 – A Feast “Oh my god,” I moan, letting my head fall back against the wooden chair as I slowly chew the last bite of the muffin that I’ve crammed into my mouth. “It is so delicious. I can’t stand it.”

“Yeah!” I hear Alvin agree, even though my eyes are pressed shut. “Way better than a stinking granola bar.”

I groan, putting my hands on my swollen stomach, not knowing if I’d be able take another bite. Maybe ever again. Am I so full that I’ve made future hunger impossible?

“Ohhh, mama!” Alvin calls, and I open one eye, peaking at him as he uncovers a dish of chocolate croissants. “We didn’t see these! They’re still warm.”

And then, suddenly, I find room in my stomach.

“Hand me one,” I say, putting a hand out to my kid.

“Come and get it!” he teases, holding it up in the air just out of my reach.

I laugh, pretending to snatch in the air for it. Then I groan and let my hand drop. “No, baby, I can’t. I’m too weak and fat now. You’ll have to roll me to get closer to any food.”

Alvin laughs and gives in, hopping down from his stool and bringing the croissant closer to me. “Here, mama, I will hold it,” he says, bringing it close to my face. I quickly snatch a bite before he can yank it away. My baby laughs and then takes a bite of it himself, closing his eyes to savor the delicious mix of flaky butter pastry and not-too-sweet chocolate.

I smile, watching my boy chew, wondering how I got so lucky as to have this moment with him. I do my best to savor it, this strange magical instant out in the woods, eating pastry with my son. I know that the forest has more in store for us – more trials, more depth. But in this moment, I’m grateful.

Alvin finishes chewing his piece of pastry and surprises me by coming to stand close by my side. He holds the croissant close to his chest, not caring about the crumbs he gets on his shirt, and leans his little head on my shoulder.

“What is it, baby?” I ask, my voice gentle. It’s not like my cheerful boy to seek comfort in moments like this. But, full and safe for the moment in this magical place, perhaps he is able to explore the things that have been troubling his little mind.

“Mama,” he says thoughtfully. “If me and Ian are twins, and are all the same…then why is he good at some things? And not me?”

I frown, pulling him around so that he stands between my knees and I can look in his face. “What do you mean, Alvin?” I ask. “You are both so good at everything. What is Ian good at that you are not?”

Alvin just shrugs, putting the croissant back on the table and then placing one hand on each of my knees, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Ian is…braver than me. And better with people. And he is so good at talking to dad about military stuff – like how to make a war, and how to plan things. And I’m okay at that too, but I’m not…I’m not like Ian.”

He looks at me, then, with wide and worried eyes. “But if we’re twins,” he continues. “Why aren’t we the same?”

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, putting my hands on either side of his face. “Just because you’re twins doesn’t mean you’re the same. I love that your brother and you have for so long been two peas in a pod, but you’re growing up to be different people, and you each have your own set of skills.”

Alvin continues to look down, not encouraged by this.

“Besides,” I whisper, moving my hands to his shoulders and giving him an heartening little squeeze.

“You can do special things that your brother can’t do.”

Alvin looks up at me, surprised. “Like what?”

“Liiiiiike,” I reply, my voice excited. “You can do the Alpha command. And you are so good at knowing just how people are feeling, while I think Ian struggles with that a little bit more. And…” I lean in, like I’m telling him a very big secret. “I’ll tell you something, but you have to promise never to repeat it.”

Alvin’s eyes go wide with excitement and he nods fervently.

“I think you,” I say, pointing a finger at the center of his chest. “Are the ultimate sneaky squirrel. Much sneakier than your brother. I always hear him coming.”

Alvin laughs at his and the smile on his face warms my heart. I’m sorry to see, though, that after a moment it fades.

“What’s still bothering you?” I ask, concerned.

Alvin gives a little shrug. “I just think that…that Ian wants to be a soldier when he grows up. And…I don’t think I want to be a soldier.”

“Well, that’s okay, baby!” I say, pulling him up onto my lap. “You can be whatever you want.”

He turns his big brown eyes up at me, worried. “But how can I be a good Alpha and run the pack if I’m not a soldier?”

I kiss the top of his head and hug him close, whispering my answer. “You don’t have to be a soldier, like daddy, to be a good Alpha. Besides, you are going to run the pack with your brother. If he is the soldier, then you can go learn a whole different set of skills that will help with some other aspect of the pack.

It’s not all military, you know.”

Alvin slowly turns over this idea in his mind.

“You should talk to your daddy about it,” I say quietly, sniffing his hair and giving him a little kiss on his head. “He’ll be able to explain it more clearly than me. He’s got all the Alpha experience, after all.”

Alvin nods, and then turns in my arms, looking up at me. “And what do you want to be, mama?” he asks, curious. “When you grow up?”

I laugh down at him, charmed. “Am I not already grown up?”

“No,” he says, smiling and putting his hands on my cheeks now. “You are not.”

“But I’m a therapist!” I say, continuing to laugh and rock him in my arms.

“That’s what you are now,” Alvin explains. “But do you always want to be that?”

I press my cheek against his sweet head, wondering at his question myself. Is that what I want for my future?

I think back on my life, on my choices. I became a therapist because I wanted to help people, especially women like me, whose lives had failed them and who needed a leg up in the world. And I’d done it because I’d wanted, fervently, to build a life for myself, to have an income, to be able to stand alone.

But now that things were different – that I didn’t need to stand alone anymore, that I had Victor by my side, and access to his wealth…

Did I want to continue being a therapist?

I was still dedicated, I knew, to helping those who need it – that’s as much a part of my identity as my name, as my children. My mind turns, suddenly, to Bridgette, and to women like her – women who I very much want to help when the world has turned its back on them.

But therapy…was it all I could do? Were there other ways to do that work, or put my skills to use?

Especially as Victor’s Luna, with his resources at my fingertips…

“I don’t know, baby,” I say quietly to my son, curled against me. “That’s actually a really good question.”

“Yes,” he murmurs, full and content. “All of my questions are good questions. I’m a genius.”

I laugh a little, and then my eyes turn to towards the food, which seems to have fed both of us body and soul. Yesterday, all I had been able to think about was my impending death and whether or not Victor and I were going to make it. But today? Today, I feel rich with hope…

“What is in those muffins…” I murmur, narrowing my eyes at the basket still sitting on the table.

“Magic,” Alvin murmurs, snuggling closer to me. “Delicious magic. And sugar.”

“Sugar, very important,” I murmur back, wrapping my arms tighter around my boy.

“Daddys coming,” Alvin says quietly. “We’ll have to save him some.”

I nod, but then start in my chair. “Wait,” I say, pulling away from Alvin so I can look down into his face.

“How do you know that?”

He wrinkles his nose up at me. “Just trust me mama,” he says, laughing a little. “They’re on their way.”