“Three.” An earnest smile crossed Adam’s face as he looked up to her, a spoonful of potato soup cooling just above his bowl. “And one niece. She’s only a year old, so I doubt she’ll appreciate the books just yet.” He smiled, raising the spoon to his lips. “Later she’ll thank me.” Sipping lightly at the still steaming soup, he made a vague sound of amusement. For all his potentially questionable, quasi deviant appearance and his occasional cool distance from them, Adam felt a great deal of warmth for his more traditionally-minded family. Though in so many ways he was unlike them, they had never flagged in their support of him; it was a rare blessing, he knew, and one he appreciated.
“What about you?” he asked. He looked up to her, black-rimmed eyes watching her closely. It would be difficult, he guessed, to be away from family, so far from home during such a sentimental season. “Anyone you’ll be calling Christmas Eve?”