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Wyoming Christmas Surprise
Melissa Senate


She was raising quadruplets alone…Then her husband returned! Moments before walking down the aisle again, Allie Stark finds her presumed-dead husband at her door. Yes, the former police sergeant had a darn good reason for his disappearance. But now Theo expects to just pick up where they left off? He missed the birth of four babies!It looks like they’re both in for a big Christmas surprise…







This widow was raising quadruplets alone...

Then her husband returned!

Moments before walking down the aisle again, Allie Stark finds her presumed-dead husband at her door. Yes, the former police sergeant had a darn good reason for his disappearance. But now Theo expects to just pick up where they left off? He missed the birth of four babies! In this brand-new The Wyoming Multiples romance, a reunited couple is in for the biggest Christmas surprise.


MELISSA SENATE has written many novels for Mills & Boon and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books for Mills & Boon’s True Love line under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty-five countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son; their rescue shepherd mix, Flash; and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, melissasenate.com (http://melissasenate.com).


Also by Melissa Senate (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

Detective Barelli’s Legendary Triplets

The Baby Switch!

Santa’s Seven-Day Baby Tutorial

Charm School for Cowboys

The Cook’s Secret Ingredient

The Cowboy’s Big Family Tree

The Detective’s 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise

A Cowboy in the Kitchen

The Maverick’s Baby in Waiting

Mummy and the Maverick

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Wyoming Christmas Surprise

Melissa Senate






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07838-2

WYOMING CHRISTMAS SURPRISE

© 2018 Melissa Senate

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u715a8d8b-b97f-50d4-8b49-f71c831110ce)

Back Cover Text (#udcf3759c-5629-545a-86c3-a13b71b5f378)

About the Author (#u66b586a5-694b-570b-bdad-16e0156b4617)

Booklist (#u96be303b-28ef-5afb-906a-ff2aeee583d7)

Title Page (#u07bc7953-6c1f-5c8f-ba98-3364f93f4c93)

Copyright (#u4876679b-15b7-5e0c-926c-3ad7e9556a0a)

Dedication (#u433f0329-155c-56b7-b2d1-595cc6c83cad)

Chapter One (#u4f9f66af-e2b1-5339-8527-061aefc440d1)

Chapter Two (#u6662e3a1-7393-5993-b06a-2072a0d394d6)

Chapter Three (#ue38cc9fe-cd10-5c8d-ba6c-d49cbaea35c4)

Chapter Four (#u2688c617-2265-53f5-aba8-c08d15f57457)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Dedicated to my son, Max-truly sweet sixteen.


Chapter One (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

Bride-to-be Allie MacDougal Stark stood in front of the mirror in the Wedlock Creek Town Hall’s “Bridal Preparation” room, her sisters, Lila and Merry, on either side of her. Lila, the most traditional of the MacDougal triplets, was insisting that Allie tick off the old wedding poem checklist.

Even though nothing about today’s wedding was traditional.

“Hmm, something old,” Lila said, tilting her head and surveying Allie’s reflection. “Ah—got it. You’re wearing Grandma’s pearl drop earrings. Perfect.”

The earrings were beautiful, and Allie loved the idea of having a part of her beloved grandmother with her today.

“And the ‘something borrowed’ are my shoes,” Merry pointed out, gesturing at the salmon-colored suede pumps on Allie’s feet. They were a great match for the blush-colored lace jacket and matching knee-length pencil skirt that Allie wore for every special occasion. The usual shoes that went with this outfit had horribly scuffed heels, so Merry and her shoe collection to the rescue.

“Something new is next,” Lila said. “Sexy underthings perhaps?” she added, wriggling her blond eyebrows.

Uh, no. Allie made a face at her sister, who knew perfectly well that things between her and her fiancé didn’t—and would likely never—merit a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Honestly, if tonight, their wedding night, she and Elliot watched a movie and played Boggle before turning in early with a peck on the cheek, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“You know,” Allie said, looking herself up and down, “I don’t think I have anything new on right now.”

As if she would. As the widowed mother of eleven-month-old quadruplets, new was not a word in Allie’s vocabulary. She hadn’t bought anything for herself in at least two years, and most of the quads’ stuff—and there was a lot of stuff—was hand-me-downs or gifts.

“You actually do have something new, though,” Merry said, nodding at Lila, who ran over to her purse on the chair in the corner and pulled out a small square box.

“What is this?” Allie asked as Lila handed it to her.

Merry smiled. “Open it. It’s your wedding present from us.”

“You guys,” Allie said, looking from one sister to the other and back to the box. She opened the lid. Aww—it was a beautiful oval-shaped gold locket on a filigree chain.

“Now open the locket,” Lila said.

Allie flicked open the tiny latch. An itty-bitty photo of her babies, one she recognized was taken just a few weeks ago, was nestled inside. Tyler and Henry were smiling, Ethan was midlaugh, and Olivia had her big toe in her mouth, her trademark move.

Her heart squeezed. Her sisters were everything. “I love it,” Allie said, grabbing each MacDougal in a hug. “I absolutely love it. But I have to say I’m surprised you got me anything.”

Her sisters had made their feelings about her marriage to Elliot Talley crystal clear. Don’t marry a man you’re not in love with, Lila had said quite a few times. You have us! Merry had insisted even last night, when the triplets had gotten together for a “bachelorette party,” which meant dinner at Allie’s favorite restaurant for incredible Mexican food and margaritas. We’ll always help you with the kiddos, Lila had said. You don’t have to do this.

This was marrying Elliot Talley in about twenty minutes.

“Of course we did,” Lila said. “Because we love you and support you.” She took the necklace out of the box and put it around Allie’s neck. “I can never fasten these things,” she said, frowning. “I have fat fingers.”

Merry laughed and took over. “We all have the same fingers. And mine are not fat.”

Allie snorted. “Mine, either,” she said, wiggling hers in the air. The Irish friendship ring Elliot had given her as a symbol of their commitment when he’d proposed barely gleamed in the bright room. Lila wrinkled her nose at it. Hardly traditional, she’d groused the day Allie, newly engaged, had shown it to her sisters.

Allie didn’t need or want a diamond ring. She had one, the beautiful solitaire in a gold band that her late husband had given her six months before they’d married seven years ago. After Elliot had proposed, she’d moved the diamond ring and wedding band to her right hand, but they didn’t fit comfortably on any of her fingers. So she’d put them away, dropping to her knees afterward in a round of sobs that had shaken her entire body.

“Wait, what about something blue?” Lila said, shoving her long, curly blond hair behind her shoulders. “You don’t have anything blue.”

Blue. The face of police sergeant Theo Stark, killed almost two years ago in the line of duty, was vivid in her mind, the first time she saw him in uniform as a twenty-four-year-old cadet in the police academy. He’d joined right after three tours of duty in the army.

“Sure I do,” Allie said, sucking in a breath. “A two-fold ‘something blue.’ Theo’s memory. With me always.”

Lila’s face crumpled. “Oh, God, now I’m gonna cry.”

“Me, too,” Merry said and squeezed Allie in a hug, Lila smushing her way in.

“You’ll ruin your mascara,” Lila warned, stepping back and handing Allie a tissue. “You can’t marry Elliot with raccoon tracks down your face.”

Merry opened her mouth to say something, then turned away and put on her usual pleasant expression, and Allie knew exactly what her sister had wanted to say.

You can’t marry Elliot, period.

Allie had been dating Elliot, a kind, responsible tax accountant, for only three months. According to her sisters, dating was a stretch, considering they’d never had sex. Ten years her senior at forty-one, Elliot wanted a family, she had a ready-made one, and they got along great. Their relationship had the added bonus of increasing his business, since he seemed like a saint to everyone in Wedlock Creek, and the proposal had turned him into a hometown hero.

People felt bad for Allie Stark, widowed mother of baby quadruplets. For the first few months after they were born, she’d barely had to lift one baby, let alone figure out how to juggle four. Her family, neighbors, even total strangers in town had rallied around her, whispers of “that poor woman,” “those poor babies,” wherever she went with her huge choo-choo train of a four-seat stroller. Her freezer was still stocked with everything from casseroles to soups. She had an entire kitchen drawer full of gift cards to Baby Blitz. And babysitting offers, from overnights to a few hours to let her nap and pee and have a cup of coffee, had been aplenty. But six months in, Allie had known she had to start standing on her own two feet and learn how to take care of her children by herself.

Her sisters had been pushing her to date, to get back out there, but even if she could imagine being with another man, there had been no takers. Not one. Not a surprise, considering she came with four babies. So three months ago, when Elliot asked her out, she’d been so surprised and actually kind of touched and had said yes. He was something of a homebody, enjoying staying in and cooking interesting pasta dishes and playing with the babies. He thoughtfully bought them teething rings and chew books that could be read in the bathtub. He also hadn’t pushed her for sex, which she appreciated given her exhaustion. He’d said they’d move their relationship to that level when she was ready—and that if she were never ready, that would be fine, too. Allie had a few theories about Elliot’s lack of a sex drive where she was concerned, but when it came right down to it, she was in this for security for her children.

Her sisters did understand—anyone would understand—why she’d said yes to a lack of passion for a sense of security and a father for the quads. Allie did care for Elliot and she did want a father for the babies, someone she could trust, someone she could count on. And Elliot, as tax-accountant-desk-job-safe as Theo had been cop-on-the-street-dangerous, would never make her worry in that way she always had. And so she’d said yes. She’d finally accepted that Theo Stark, her husband of five years until she’d lost him and any hope of saving their rocky marriage two years ago, was gone. That acceptance had taken almost everything out of her.

And this wedding was what it was, so Allie hadn’t booked the famed and beautiful Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel, which attracted couples from all over the country. According to legend, those who married in the century-old chapel would have multiples in some way, shape or form, à la twins or triplets or quadruplets or more, through luck, science or pure happenstance. Allie’s late parents had married at the chapel thirty-two years ago and had triplet daughters. Allie had married at the chapel and had quadruplets—three boys and a girl.

The town hall, with its fluorescent lighting and drab interior, was a far cry from the chapel, with its heart-shaped bell atop the steeple, gorgeous stained glass windows and gingerbread tiers that resembled a Victorian wedding cake. One hundred sixty-two guests had gathered to watch her and Theo say their vows in the famed chapel. Today, it would be just her and Elliot, and two witnesses—the town clerk and the receptionist. Her sisters had popped in to wish her luck—and to give her the gift, apparently. Then they were going back to Allie’s house to babysit the quads, who were being treated to lunch by Allie’s neighbor, a wonderful grandmother of fourteen who’d raised quintuplets and had lived to tell the tale. She, too, had married at the chapel.

“Okay, we’re gonna head back,” Merry said. “We’ll see you at home around two.”

Allie nodded. The plan was for her and Elliot to treat themselves to a decadent lunch at Marcello’s, a great Italian restaurant here in town, and then go back to Allie’s house to jump right into life as the married parents of eleven-month-old quadruplets. No honeymoon this time around. Seven years ago, she and Theo had flown to Paris, staying only for a weekend, since they couldn’t afford much back then, and it was all the honeymoon she needed for a lifetime.

Her sisters gave her one final hug each, then headed for the door.

Allie stared at her reflection in the mirror and smoothed her special-occasion suit, thinking back to the stunning white strapless gown with intricate beading and just enough bling to make her feel like a princess. Whatevs, she thought. This suit makes me feel like an adult.

“Oh, one more thing, Allie,” Lila said at the door, with her trademark devilish grin. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Allie asked, eyebrow raised.

Lila put a hand over her heart. “Promise me. Us. Yourself—that you’re not going to change your name. You can’t be Allie Talley. You can’t rhyme.”

Merry let out a snort, then gave Lila a jab in the ribs.

Allie laughed. “Well, if I do change my name and become Allie Talley, at least it’ll make me laugh.”

Merry grabbed a giggling Lila out the door. Leaving Allie to stare at herself in the mirror, wondering what it was going to feel like to be Allie Talley, who that woman was. She had been Allie Stark for the past seven years—five as his wife, two as his widow. But life had a way of throwing monkey wrenches and curveballs and all sorts of shocks and surprises at people. You had to adapt, change the plan to fit the new now.

You’re the new you, a grief counselor had said at the bereavement group she’d attended for a few months. She hadn’t mentioned that to her sisters, that she herself was the “something new” for today; her reason for keeping it to herself had stolen her breath.

Because she’d give anything for her old imperfect life back, a second chance.

But she was “the new her,” so in twenty minutes she was marrying Elliot and becoming Allie Talley.

Allie Talley. She smiled, thinking of Lila, and a small laugh came out of her. She’d been about to make herself cry, but becoming the new her, becoming the rhyme of Allie Talley, had lightened the mood.

Badumpa.

Everything is going to be okay, she told herself. She picked up the locket from where it lay just under the V of her jacket and flicked open the latch. Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. Everything she did, she did for them.

But suddenly all she wanted to do was race out the door after her sisters.

* * *

I’m alive.

I’m not dead.

Scratch that—that’ll be obvious the second she sees you.

I had to fake my death.

I’ve been walking, talking, breathing, living on this earth all this time...

Sunglasses on, Stetson pulled down low, Theo Stark sat in a booth in the truck stop diner just outside the town limits of Wedlock Creek, waiting for a refill of his coffee and practicing in his head what he was going to say to Allie when he finally saw her again.

For the first time in almost two years.

On the drive up from southern Wyoming, he’d replayed what he’d say over and over. But the closer he got to Wedlock Creek, the more none of it sounded right. It was all the truth, of course, but when it came right down to it, his wife believed he was dead. And he wasn’t.

At first, he wouldn’t have to say anything. The fact that he was alive would be obvious.

God.

At just after one forty-five this morning, he’d gotten the call that had finally brought him back to life. The serial killer who’d turned Theo’s world upside down was now dead. The threat was gone.

And Theo could come out of the shadows.

Last year at this time, with the weeks counting down to the holidays, he’d wanted nothing more than to get that call so he could go home for Christmas. He’d been hiding out for months at that point, alive and well on a remote cattle ranch, when everyone believed he was dead. Living under a fake name, keeping to himself, earning just enough to get by and move on if necessary. But the months went on and on until, finally, the call he’d been waiting for had come. He was going home.

The waitress came over with the refill, and Theo ducked his head low, nodding a thank-you. He’d recognized the woman, who used to work in the coffee shop on Main Street. But he couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him and gasping. Since he was supposed to be dead, he figured anyone who did a double take would assume he was just a guy who looked a lot like the Wedlock Creek police sergeant who’d been killed in the line of duty. But he wasn’t taking any chances until he explained himself to Allie.

While the waitress poured, making small talk about the weather, he reached for the Wedlock Creek Chatter the previous customer had left on the table and pretended great interest in flipping through the free weekly newspaper. Anything to keep his head down and conversation to the bare minimum. The waitress left and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He was about to push the newspaper aside when a small boxed notice on the People in the News page caught his eye. His heart started to pound and he read the two-line notice again.

Then again.

Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.

Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.

Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.

No. No, no, no, no.

He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.

Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.

He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—

And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.

Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.

Or fake their deaths.

Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.

So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.

He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.

They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.

“Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.

Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.

Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.

As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.

She was in there.

Allie. His wife.

He sucked in another breath and thought about taking off the sunglasses and the hat, but there were people walking at the other end of the hallway. People he recognized.

The black-and-white utilitarian clock on the wall said it was eleven fifty-six. There was no time to figure out what to say, how to say it.

He knocked.

As the door opened, Allie, beautiful Allie, was smiling and saying something about needing help with a tie.

She’d been expecting her groom, he figured.

But then she saw him and froze and her smile faded.

And she whispered his name.

“Theo.”


Chapter Two (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

Allie had been freshening her lipstick when someone knocked on the door. She’d glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-six. She’d figured it was Elliot needing help with his tie. He always dressed for their dates in a sports jacket and tie—and the tie was always either crooked or the knot halfway down his shirt. She’d opened the door, expecting to see Elliot’s kind, pale face in the doorway.

But it wasn’t Elliot.

It was a ghost.

Theo. Wearing dark sunglasses and a black Stetson pulled down low. Even so, she recognized him. Knew it was him.

It can’t really be Theo, Allie thought numbly, her head spinning, her knees wobbly. I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating.

“Theo,” she whispered. “Theo.”

He took off the hat and held it against his chest, then pocketed the sunglasses in his black leather jacket.

She gasped at how real he looked. Same thick dark hair, same intense green eyes, same scar along his chiseled jawline. Very tall at six foot two. Muscular, as always. Were ghosts muscular? Of course not.

You’re seeing things, she told herself, staring at him, aware her mouth was hanging open, as she reached out like a crazy person to touch him. He’s not here. He died almost two years ago.

His ghost had come to tell her not to marry Elliot Talley, a man she didn’t love “that way,” she figured. Or his ghost was here to give his blessing. One or the other.

“It’s me,” Theo said, reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face. “Oh, God, Allie. It is so good to see you. I have so much to tell you.”

The contact of his hand on her face was real. He was real.

“It’s so good to see me?” she sputtered. “What?” She shook her head again, sure he wouldn’t still be there. “I was at your funeral. You’re...”

He stepped inside the room and shut the door, then took both her hands and led her over to the two chairs by the mirror. She sat down right before her legs gave out. “I didn’t die that night, Allie. Obviously,” he added in a choked voice as he sat beside her. “But I had to make everyone think I did to protect you.”

She slowly shook her head again, trying to listen as he started saying something about the serial killer he and his team had been after for months. “He threatened—”

A knock on the door interrupted him.

“Um, Allie?” called the voice of Elliot Talley. Her fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry in two minutes. “I need to talk to you.”

She glanced at Theo, who moved against the wall. He put back on the dark sunglasses.

“Allie?” Elliot called out again with another knock. “I really have to talk to you.”

Well, Elliot, she thought as she stood up, legs like rubber, it’s kind of perfect timing, since I have to talk to you, too. Seems marrying you would make me a bigamist. There went her knees again, wobbling around.

She pulled open the door. Now it was Elliot who stood in the doorway, looking pale as the ghost she’d thought Theo was a minute ago. Elliot looked sick, his face a bit contorted in pain, one hand clutching his stomach.

“Allie. Oh, God, Allie. I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Elliot said. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m sorry. One baby, sure. But—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe this is just cold feet and I’ll come to my senses later, but I don’t think so. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then turned and ran down the hall. Allie stared after him openmouthed until he pushed through the door of the town hall.

Well, she thought.

“That him, running through the parking lot?” Theo asked, gesturing out the window.

Allie walked over to the window, more aware of her husband standing beside her, the presence of him, than of her runaway groom, racing to his car in his tan suit. They watched as he got into his car and peeled out.

Allie sank back down onto a chair. She’d been so careful not to sit and wrinkle her outfit. Now she planned to ball this suit up and chuck it. Or give it to Goodwill.

Theo was alive? Theo was alive. Theo was alive.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t process.

“How did you even know to come here?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.

Because he’s been keeping tabs on you, she figured. It was the only thing that made sense. He couldn’t let her get married when she already had a husband—alive and well. So he’d rushed over to stop the wedding.

If anyone has any reason why these two should not be husband and wife, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Then again, did mayors officiating even say that at town hall weddings? She wasn’t sure.

I object! she imagined Theo calling out, rushing in at the last possible second. Turns out I’m not dead!

She was losing her mind. Obviously. Her dead husband, whose funeral she had attended, was sitting right beside her, and she was out of her mind. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think.

Did the entire police department know the truth? Had they been informing him what was going on in her life? Was that why he’d turned up here at the last possible second?

No, she realized suddenly.

No one was keeping tabs on her for him. She knew that with certainty. Because even if he was able to leave her, to stay “buried” for two years, there was no way he would have stayed away if he’d known about the quadruplets. She knew next to nothing about what had led Theo to fake his death, but she knew him.

Oh, God. He didn’t know he was a father. He had no idea.

Her brain was moving a mile a minute—so many questions, assumptions. And then her mind just shut down and filled with static and, inexplicably, the wedding march. She heard it playing over and over. Her brain on overload.

She shook her head again, trying to make some sense of this. Theo was here. Alive.

He pulled something from the pocket of his jacket, a folded-up piece of newspaper. He unfolded it and pointed.

Ah. It was the wedding announcement her sisters had insisted on placing, since Allie had said no to anything wedding-ish. She’d relented on the announcement mostly to quash the whispers she still heard in the supermarket and at the baby/toddler play center: There’s that poor widow with the quadruplets! Look, she has two different sneakers on and Cheerios in her hair. She’d figured that literally alerting the media to her impending nuptials would stop the pity.

She could imagine what people would be whispering now. Turns out her husband wasn’t dead after all, and she had no idea! That poor not-a-widow!

Theo looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at her. “You know that truck stop diner on the freeway about ten minutes out of town?”

Of course she knew it. They’d gotten gas there a zillion times over their five years together. Early on in their marriage, when they’d stay up all night just talking, they’d go to the twenty-four-hour diner at two thirty in the morning for omelets and home fries, gazing at each other like lovesick dopes. It was just a greasy spoon, but they made amazing chocolate milkshakes and the Starks had gone at least twice a week. Of course, that was years ago. Before, before, before.

“Well, I stopped in to fill up the truck,” he said, “and then I figured I’d have a few cups of coffee to prepare myself, to figure out what I was going to say, how I was going to just knock on your door and tell you I was alive. I’d gone over all that in my mind during the five-hour drive to Wedlock Creek, but as I got so close, everything went out of my head. All I could think about was the look that would be on your face. How I’d lied and betrayed you. I could barely move from the booth. Until I saw the wedding announcement.”

She stood up and moved to the window. “If you say you did it to protect me, I believe you, Theo.”

But something was poking at her—at her heart, at her gut. That maybe he’d been relieved to walk away from her, from their rocky marriage.

“When I saw the announcement,” he added, “I rushed here as fast as I could.”

“Turns out you could have finished your coffee,” she said, then walked over to the window and stared out. A huge Christmas tree decorated the town green in the yard, colored lights and tinsel wrapped around it.

She turned back to him, half expecting him to be gone, this all just a dream. He was so damned good-looking. And wearing clothes she’d never seen before, clothes the Theo Stark she’d known would never have chosen. Cowboy boots, for one. Theo had liked expensive and very comfortable Italian black leather boots for winter. And these worn, faded jeans that looked so incredibly sexy on his long, muscular frame? Theo liked dark clothing—black pants, black button-down shirt. The black leather jacket was more him, though this one had a rugged look she wouldn’t think he’d have gone for. The sunglasses he’d been wearing, though—pure Theo.

Where have you been all this time? she wanted to ask. Why didn’t you get in touch, somehow, someway?

But she couldn’t form words. She could only stare at him, drink him in, as questions crowded her head.

She suddenly realized he was frowning now and it snapped her back to attention.

“Allie,” he said. “What did your fiancé mean about the baby? ‘One baby, sure.’ What was that about?”

“Well, at least I was right about that part,” she said. “You really don’t know.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “Know what?”

That we’re both getting the surprise of a lifetime today, Theo. You’re not only alive—but the father of baby quadruplets!

She reached inside the top of her jacket and pulled out the gold locket her sisters had given her, flicked it open and held it out to him.

He stepped closer and squinted at the little picture.

He looked back up at her. “Four babies. Quadruplets? Who are they?”

She clicked shut the locket and dropped it back under the jacket. “They’re your children, Theo.”

* * *

Allie watched Theo take a step back, shock on his handsome face. As she thought, he really and truly hadn’t known. Allie was surprised someone hadn’t kept tabs on her for him. Then again, she had no idea how these things worked—law enforcement officials faking their deaths for protective reasons. But Allie was well acquainted with every nuance of Theo Stark’s face and features. He’d had no idea he was a father.

Maybe—very likely—Theo had told his contact not to update him on Allie and her life. She’d bet anything that was the case.

“What?” he said, staring at her, his eyes full of disbelief. “What?”

She nodded. “I found out I was pregnant a couple days before you—” What? Not died. Walked away. For almost two years.

“Oh, Allie,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped toward her, and she could tell he wanted to pull her into his arms, but this time it was she who took a step back. “I’m a father?” he added in a tone she’d never heard before. A mixture of fear and wonderment.

“The night you were—The night of the explosion,” she said, “I’d planned to tell you I was pregnant.”

She’d never forget how she’d felt when the pink plus sign had appeared in the tiny window on the pregnancy test. That maybe a baby would save their five-year marriage. Then the sinking heart when she knew full well a baby shouldn’t and couldn’t save a marriage. They’d have to do that on their own and they’d failed miserably for the past year. So she’d kept the news to herself as long as she could, until she’d been bursting with it. But Theo hadn’t come home at all that night she’d been determined to tell him, to sit him down and demand they work out a plan to save their marriage. Because of the baby. In spite of the baby.

There were four babies. And then no marriage to save.

“You were pregnant,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“With quadruplets,” she said. “Boy, did you dodge a bullet. Literally.” Ha ha, she thought miserably and then burst into tears, her hands flying up to cover her face.

He pulled her into his arms and she let him, her stiff muscles releasing against him.

For months after his “death,” she’d wished she could feel his arms around her. Despite how worried she’d always been about him, Theo had always made her feel so safe. Even at the end, when their marriage was falling apart, he’d hold her and she’d believe all over again. They’d be okay. They’d work it out.

“Why didn’t you call me? Text me? Something, anything?” she said. “How could you have let me think you were dead when you weren’t? How?” Tears streamed down her face. If she had raccoon tracks, it was fine with her. She’d earned them. She pulled away from him and grabbed tissues from the box on the table.

The look on his face pierced right through her. “I couldn’t risk it, Allie. I can’t tell you how many times I held a prepaid cell in my hands, burning with need to hear your voice, to tell you. But I couldn’t.”

She took a breath and dabbed under her eyes with the tissue.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” he said. “I have a hell of a lot to make up for. But walking away from you was the hardest—the worst—thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“But you did it,” she whispered.

He walked over to her and took both her hands in his. “A serial killer made a direct threat against you. All I cared about was keeping you safe. With me—the one witness who could put him away—gone, he had no reason to go after you.”

She gasped. But then shook her head. She wanted to know everything and didn’t want to know anything. Or maybe just not now.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then walked toward the window, glancing out. “And, yeah, knowing how miserable I was making you, how I was failing as a husband, I thought the split-second decision I made to fake my death was the right one.”

There it was. He’d said it, the actual words. He’d faked his death. Fake, fake, fake.

“It was, at the time,” he added. “I’ll tell you all the gory details if you want to hear them, when you want to hear them. Including the call I got from the FBI agent and US marshal that McBruin was killed early this morning. But right now, I just want to be with you. And I want to see my children.”

The little faces of her quads floated into her mind. A calm came over her and she found she could breathe normally again. “Two look just like you. One looks like me. And one looks like the both of us. People always comment on it.”

His eyes lit up. “Boys? Girls?”

“Three boys and a girl,” she told him.

“I’m a father,” he whispered. She caught his shoulders slumping in defeat. If there was ever a move that wasn’t Theo Stark, that was it. Defeat wasn’t his thing. In fact, their rocky marriage, his admission of failing in that department, had to be a big part of what had allowed him to walk away and leave her behind. “All this time, I had four babies.” He shook his head, letting his face fall into his hands.

“They’re amazing,” she said. “Healthy, happy, wonderful little humans.”

His expression brightened and he managed something of a smile.

“Theo, where’ve you been all this time?” she asked.

“A cattle ranch in a remote part of Wyoming.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You were a cowboy?” Suddenly the clothing made sense.

He nodded. “I learned fast and worked hard. I can’t tell you the number of cowboys on that spread who were runaways from their lives in some form or another.”

“That’s sad, Theo.”

“I know. But I’ll tell you something. Hard, honest work makes a person think. Three quarters of those guys cleaned up their acts.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I guess you’re among them. You came home the minute you heard the serial killer was dead and that it was safe.” She looked out the window beyond him, then back at Theo. Her husband. “So I suppose you’ll get your job back.”

“I plan to, if they’ll have me after everything. If things go my way, though, I won’t start back at the PD until after New Year’s. I’d like to focus on us, Allie. On our family. I have four babies I haven’t met.”

She stared at him. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I figured you were just telling me you’re alive and then be off chasing the bad guys.”

He shook his head. “My priority right now is you. Us.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Before that night, you told me that maybe splitting up was what was best.”

“Maybe it was then. I feel like a different person now, Allie. I can’t explain it. I just know I died for you. Literally and figuratively. That told me how I felt about you, not that I needed to be told. I knew. I also knew I was a terrible husband and everything you never wanted. I was breaking your heart every day.”

“I remember,” she said. “So now what?”

“Now, if you’ll allow it, I’d like to come home. Start over.”

“It’s not going to be like it used to be,” she said. “My life is about a very serious schedule of taking care of four eleven-month-olds. And I work hard, too, Theo. My personal chef business really took off after—People hire me for all kinds of cooking gigs. If I’m not in the nursery, I’m in the kitchen.”

“And now I’ll be there to help out,” he said.

So he was just going to move back in? Step right back into their lives? That sounded crazy.

“Theo, we didn’t work before. You didn’t want to start a family. And now there are babies in the mix. Four babies. What makes you think you’re going to want this life now?”

“I just know I have a second chance, Allie. And I want to take it. I know I said I never wanted kids. But now that I have kids, that knocks that right out of the water.”

A second chance. Her own thoughts right before he’d knocked on the door came back to her: because she’d give anything for her old imperfect life back, a second chance.

“Staying out of obligation started to destroy our marriage,” she reminded him.

“I’m a father now. I take that responsibility seriously. I have eleven months to make up for, Allie. Not to mention the fact that you went through the pregnancy alone. Under terrible circumstances.”

He’d barely been able to handle having to be responsible to a wife waiting at home, worried sick about him as he volunteered for the most dangerous task forces to rid Wedlock Creek and surrounding towns of crime. Adding four babies to that? He wouldn’t last a week.

Maybe they both needed to see that, know that for sure, and then they could go back to their separate lives. Or maybe he’d surprise both of them. She was rooting for the latter.

She still loved Theo Stark with every bit of her heart. But she didn’t want their old marriage back or him to be unhappy out of obligation to her—and now to his children. So they’d give it a shot. See if he could really become a family man.

“I guess I’ll just go let the officiant know he can cross me off the list,” she said. “Then we’ll go home.”

He put the sunglasses and Stetson back on. “Home,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. “You have no idea how happy that word makes me.”


Chapter Three (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

As Theo pulled the pickup into the driveway of Allie’s house—their house—he could see one of her sisters (he was pretty sure it was Lila) hanging a gold banner across the front door.

Congratulations, Newlyweds!

Oh, Lord.

“They’re here!” he heard Lila shout toward the house as she rushed back inside.

He stared up at the narrow old white Victorian, his heart skipping a beat. Over the past two years, he’d dreamed of this house, the small, cramped two-bedroom fixer-upper that had been perfect for him and Allie as young newlyweds. They’d grown out of it fast, but Allie had always been so nostalgic about the place and they’d begun to talk about adding on a room. Of course, Allie would start talking about it as a nursery and Theo would shut down, thinking of it as more a spare room that would simply give them more space, more breathing room. A man cave for him and a library for all her cookbooks and recipe files. They’d never gotten around to the addition.

A tree near the front door was festooned with a few wraps of white lights. Allie loved Christmas; he was surprised she hadn’t decked out the place with the usual holiday fervor. A few lights, a wreath on the front door. That was it.

“Oh, God, my sisters,” Allie said, her gaze on the gleaming, glittery banner. “I’d better prepare them,” she added, opening the truck door. “Wait here a sec, okay?”

He nodded and she got out of the truck and faced the porch.

Lila and Merry, two of the three MacDougal triplets, came rushing out of the house and started throwing what looked like rice up in the air.

“Congratulations to the bride and groom!” the sisters shouted in unison as rice dropped down all over Allie.

Who just stood there, shaking her head. Her sisters were peering at her, frowning.

“Allie? What’s wrong?” Merry asked.

“I—” Allie began. “It—” she stuttered. “The—” Her shoulders slumped and she turned toward him with an I need help here expression.

Oh, hell, Theo thought, as he got out of the truck and took off his sunglasses.

Allie’s sisters stared at him, then at each other, then at Allie, then back at him.

“Theo?” Merry whispered, squinting at him.

“What?” Lila said, mouth hanging open.

“I have only good news,” Allie said to her sisters. “Theo, it turns out, is alive. And Elliot got cold feet. The timing couldn’t have been better all around, actually. I easily could have had two husbands right now.”

Merry crossed her arms over her chest. “We left you to get married and you come home with your dead husband. Explain yourself now.”

“Right now,” Lila seconded.

Allie brushed rice out of her hair. “There came a knock on the door that changed everything,” she said, glancing at him. “And there Theo was. Very much alive.”

Theo knew how much Allie loved her sisters—they were very close. But he also knew Allie and could tell she was exhausted and needed to sit down—lie down—and process everything.

“It’s a long story,” Allie said, “but has to do with the serial killer he’d been after. He had to fake his death to protect me. The psycho is dead now, so Theo was able to come home.”

Her sisters narrowed their eyes at Theo.

He nodded. “I can explain further. Later, I mean,” he added. “Once Allie and I have had a chance to talk.”

“Thanks for watching the babies,” Allie said to her sisters. “I’ll take it from here.” She gave her sisters the look, the one that meant please just go and don’t ask questions; I’ll tell you everything later. They knew that look.

Thanks for watching the babies. His children. His four children. Four precious little beings he’d never met, held, seen. His heart lurched and he turned to brace a hand on the hood of the pickup.

“I’ll get our purses,” Merry said, rushing inside and coming back out a moment later. “The babies are fast asleep at the moment, Allie. They’ve only been down for about ten minutes, so they should nap a good hour and a half.”

Allie thanked them, and the pair left, walking toward town, which was just a few blocks away. Last he knew, the sisters were roommates, sharing a condo right in the middle of Main Street. He could only imagine the conversation they were having right now.

Allie gave him something of a smile-nod and started up the three steps to the porch. The last time Theo had walked into this house, there’d been only the two of them. And he counted as only a half, since he had put only half of himself into his marriage, their home life, those last few months. The rest he’d given to his job.

As he walked in the front door, the familiarity of the place almost did him in. He’d missed this house more than he knew. He’d built a life here with Allie and everything in it was a reminder of who they were at various ages. Twenty-four. Twenty-seven. Twenty-nine.

He walked through the foyer and into the living room. It was exactly the same. Big overstuffed couches. The muted area rug. The white brick fireplace. A big bowl of apples was on the kitchen island, as always; Allie loved apples. Upstairs, the master bedroom, not much bigger than the other one, hadn’t changed, either. The gray-and-white paisley comforter. Allie’s perfume bottles in front of the big round mirror of her dressing table. And on the bedside table—his side—the police procedural novel he’d been reading was still there, right next to the lamp and alarm clock.

The book was still there.

Which told him that, fiancé or not, Allie hadn’t moved on. Not really.

His relief almost buckled his knees.

He turned around, and there she was, right behind him, biting her lip. He glanced down at her left hand. She wasn’t wearing her wedding rings—the ones he’d put on her finger. Instead, a different gold ring was on her ring finger.

Maybe she had moved on. Maybe she just hadn’t gotten around to putting the book on the bookshelf in the living room. Hell, maybe she was reading it. Maybe she slept on that side now. Nearer the door. For convenience.

“The babies are in the spare bedroom?” he asked.

“It’s not the spare room anymore,” she said with something of a smile. “It’s the nursery.”

He nodded. “The nursery.”

Across the hallway he stepped toward the closed door. He put his hand on the doorknob and gently twisted it, pushing the door open and peering in. Low music was playing: a lullaby, he was pretty sure. The room was dark, black-out shades on the two windows. Four white cribs, each with a chalkboard with the baby’s name in colored chalk hanging across the outer bars, were against the walls. He stepped across the big round blue rug of yellow stars and stood in front of one of the cribs. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. Olivia, read the chalkboard. A baby, his daughter, lay sleeping on her back in purple footie pajamas, one hand thrown up by her head in almost a fist. Her lips quirked.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered.

“That’s Olivia,” Allie said. “On the left is Ethan.”

He moved to the crib on the left and looked in. Ethan lay on his stomach, facing away, but then he turned his head and was now facing Theo. He had Theo’s dark hair, as Olivia did.

“And across the room are Tyler and Henry,” she said.

He moved to Tyler’s crib. He also had dark hair, but there was something in his little face that was all Allie. Henry had the same dark hair, but it was harder to tell whom he looked more like, especially with his eyes closed.

“Four babies,” he said, looking at the cribs, at the tidy room. “How have you done this on your own?”

“Well, this afternoon is a good example of how. I didn’t give them lunch. Geraldine—you remember her from next door?—babysat and fed them lunch while Merry and Lila were at the town hall with me for a bit, then my sisters relieved her and put them down for their nap. Easy-peasy when you have a lot of help.”

“You can’t have help every minute of every day, though,” he said.

“No. And there have been hard moments, hard hours, hard days. But no matter what—the lack of time, privacy, inability to pee in peace, drink a cup of coffee while it’s hot, lack of sleep, staying up for hours with a sick baby only to have two or three sick at the same time, the screeching in the supermarket... I could go on. No matter what, I have them. They’re the reward, you know?”

He did know. “I always felt that way about you, Allie. No matter how hard things got those last few months here. You were still my wife. We were still the Starks.”

She almost gasped, and he wasn’t sure if she was touched or shocked or what. Part of him felt as though he knew her inside out. But he’d lost two years. And now he felt he didn’t know her at all. She’d “buried” her husband. She’d raised quadruplet babies on her own for a year. She was obviously strong in ways he hadn’t been here to witness.

Was she still his wife? Could they pick up where they’d left off—even if things between them had been rocky? Or given how troubled their marriage had been then and all the time that had passed—not to mention the big lie of his death—was it just too late for them?

He sure hoped not.

“I wish I could hold them,” he said. “I want to pick them all up and tell them their dad is here, that I’m home.” He stared down at Tyler, running a light hand along his back, covered in his green pajamas with tiny cartoon dinosaurs. This was his baby. His child.

“Oliva, Ethan, Henry, Tyler,” he said. “I don’t think they’re named after anyone in our families. Did you just like the names?”

“They’re named for you,” she said. “In the order they were born.”

“Named after me?” he repeated.

“The first initial,” she said.

Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. T. H. E. O. He stared at her, so touched he could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“I had so many names and nothing sounded right or felt right. My parents. Your parents. Our grandparents. Aunts, uncles. I’d settle on a name, but it just wouldn’t stick for some reason. And then I thought, there are four letters in Theo and four of them. And that was that.”

He reached for her hand, and she let him hold hers for a moment. “I won’t let you down again, Allie. Or them.”

She stared at him but didn’t say anything. Finally, she said, “I could use a cup of coffee. You?”

He nodded and followed her out of the nursery and back downstairs. In the kitchen, she brewed coffee and he was about to get out the mugs when he realized he couldn’t just go poking around in her cabinets. For almost two years, this had been her house. Not his. Not theirs. Hers.

“You tell me, Allie, how you want this to go. I mean, are you comfortable with me moving back in? Do you want some time?”

She got out the mugs. And the cream and sugar. “This is your house, too.”

“It hasn’t been for a long time, though. I want to be here. I want our second chance.”

She turned and looked at him. “Me, too.”

Their relationship would have to be different because everything had changed; they were parents. That realization settled something in his gut, gave him hope. They had something—four very special somethings—concrete to spur them on to make their marriage work.

“So I live here again?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded and poured the coffee. “It’s going to be awkward for a few days, I’m sure. We have a lot to catch up on. Things between us weren’t good two years ago, though.”

“I know. My fault.”

She shook her head. “There were two people in this marriage with expectations. Not just one.” She sat at the kitchen table and wrapped her hands around the mug. Theo sat across from her.

“Are you disappointed about Elliot Talley?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Disappointed at not being Allie Talley?” she asked and laughed.

He loved the sound of her laughter, rich and full.

“Allie Talley,” he said, unable to hide his smile. “Talk about dodging a bullet,” he added, hoping she’d find that funny and not inappropriate or offensive.

She smiled. “Right? Seriously, I’m glad he got cold feet. If I’d had to end things between him and me, I would have felt terrible. He’s a good person and I’m happy for him that he realized he was in over his head.”

In over his head—because of the quadruplets, he realized.

“What about me?” he asked. “How do you think I’ll do?”

“Well, you’re a different animal altogether, Sergeant Stark. You serve and protect—it’s your motto. Whether you want this particular life is the question.”

He tilted his head. “You mean the life of a family man.”

He hadn’t wanted it before—yet. Was he ready now? He didn’t know. But the babies were here and that was all that mattered.

She nodded.

“I have responsibilities,” he said. “I’m not about to shirk that.”

“Waaah! Waah! Waaaah! Waaah!”

“Well, here’s your chance to find out how you’ll do,” Allie said, standing up. “The quads are awake. I’ll take two, you take two.”

He felt a little sorry for the two who would get stuck with him. He’d probably put the diaper on backward. Then there’d be the awkward hold as he tried to figure out exactly how to balance the baby against him. General stiffness. He’d held babies here and there and had some basic skills training in delivering a baby, so he wouldn’t be completely useless upstairs. But when he tried to remember the last time he’d picked up a baby, he couldn’t. Allie’s sisters didn’t have children, he had no siblings, so there were no little nieces and nephews being thrust into his arms. Nor had there been any on the cattle ranch.

He followed Allie up the stairs and into the nursery. He watched her pick up Tyler and then lay him on the changing table, making quick work of changing his diaper. He went over to Ethan’s crib and reached in, his heart hammering so loud in his chest, in his ears.

He picked up the little guy under his arms, Ethan’s hazel eyes big and curious as he stared at this stranger bringing him to his chest.

“Hey there, little dude,” Theo said. “You could probably use a diaper change, and I’m your guy.”

Ethan grabbed his ear and laughed.

“I know. Ears are funny,” Theo said, unable to stop staring at the baby’s face, at how much he looked like a combination of him and Allie. Allie’s eyes, his nose. His mouth, Allie’s expression. The hair color was his; the texture, thick and wavy, was Allie’s.

“I’ve already changed three babies and you haven’t even brought poor Ethan to the changing table,” Allie said on a laugh.

“Oh, right,” he said, rushing the baby—his son—to the changing pad on the second dresser. He knew how to change a diaper, of course. Basic baby care had been part of his police academy training, as were lots of necessary useful life skills he’d need on the job. But changing this diaper was different. This was his baby.

“I’m just teasing,” Allie said. “I’ve had lots of practice. You’ve had none.” His face must have fallen, because Allie bit her lip. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. I haven’t had any practice. But I plan to change a lot of diapers.”

She laughed. “Fine with me.”

He turned his attention back to the baby on the pad in front of him. Taking off the diaper was the easy part, as was chucking it in the lidded diaper pail beside the changing table. Ethan kicked up his chubby little legs, making squealing sounds. Theo smiled at him.

“Watch out that he doesn’t pee on you,” Allie said. “Diapers are right inside the top drawer with cornstarch and ointments if he’s chafed.”

Theo’s eyes widened and he grabbed a diaper and the container of cornstarch. He gave the creases of the baby’s legs and his bottom a good sprinkle. Then he slid the diaper under Ethan. It took him a few seconds longer than it should have to figure out where the sticky tabs were folded, but he got the job done. He wriggled Ethan’s legs back into the pajamas, then held him against his chest, relishing the scent of him—baby shampoo, cornstarch, baby.

I’m your father, he said silently to Ethan, staring at him. You’re my son.

“You take Olivia,” Allie said, gesturing at the freshly changed baby girl banging a teething ring against the bars of the crib as she sat and made ba, ba, la noises. “One in each arm. The family room is small, but it’s babyproofed and they can crawl and pull up to their hearts’ content.”

The family room. No such room existed two years ago.

He scooped up his daughter, mesmerized by her thick dark hair and her green eyes—so like his—and her dimple, which was all Allie’s.

“Ba da!” Olivia squealed as Theo cradled her against his left side, Ethan on the other.

“Hey there, little lady,” Theo said. I’m your father, he added to himself. He’d introduce himself to them all downstairs.

He followed Allie to the family room, which used to be a dining room they’d rarely used unless they had company. Now the room was painted a lemon yellow with two murals of zoo animals on the walls. Foam mats with letters and numbers covered the floor and everything in the room had rubber edges. There were Exersaucers, a big playpen, tons of toys and stuffed animals, and a bookcase adhered to the wall, full of little books.

Allie set her two on the mat and so did Theo.

The babies began crawling, and he watched them with wonder. He lost track of who was who, his heart sinking.

“I guess it’s easy for you to tell the three boys apart,” he said. “I forget who was wearing what. Well, I know Ethan is in the green pajamas, now that I think about it.”

“They’re color-coded. Ethan is always in green. Tyler is always in blue. And Henry is always in orange. Lucky Olivia gets whatever color I feel like. I can tell the boys apart, but it’s easier on my sisters and Geraldine or whoever else is helping out if we have a system we can all rely on. This way, no one misses a meal or gets fed twice or doesn’t get a turn at this or that. That kind of thing.”

He looked from Ethan to Tyler to Henry, taking in the colors and studying their faces, their hair, their expressions. “Ah, Tyler has more intense features than Henry. And Ethan has lighter hair than his brothers. Ethan and Tyler have hazel eyes. Henry’s are green like Olivia’s.”

She nodded. “There are lots more differences. They may be quadruplets, but they’re very individual. Olivia loves mashed chickpeas, but her brothers will fling them at the wall if I dare put the smashed beans on their trays. Ethan loves chocolate ice cream, but Henry will only eat vanilla. Tyler is the most adventurous eater. Loves all vegetables, too.”

Theo smiled. “I have a lot to learn about them.” He looked at the four, crawling and playing and pulling up and babbling. “As you said, they’re all so beautiful and healthy and happy. I never want to leave this room.”

Allie laughed. “Oh, give it a good twenty minutes.”

He reached for her hand but felt her hesitation. He had to give her time. He knew that. He couldn’t just waltz right back in.

Maybe we should take a break, he remembered saying just a week before his “death.” He’d come home late, after two in the morning, and Allie had been awake and frantic. He’d been so laser-focused on the McBruin case he’d forgotten to call or text, and he’d completely forgotten they were supposed to go to her good friend’s thirtieth-birthday party on a dinner cruise. She’d been looking forward to that, had bought a new dress. And he’d forgotten it all. They’d had one whopper of an argument that night, everything under the sun had been brought up and flung. She wanted to start a family. He wanted space. She wanted more of him. He wanted to be able to do his job as needed.

Maybe we should take a break...

He’d been shocked he’d said it, not sure if he meant it or not. The hurt in her eyes, the way her face had crumpled had rattled him, floored him, and he hated how he still hadn’t known in that moment if they should take a break or not. He always felt like he had the answers, knew how to handle himself and the world. Except when it came to Allie and their marriage. He’d been floundering, sinking, breaking her heart every day, every night.

Let that go and start with now, he reminded himself. You’re not the same person you were two years ago. Neither is Allie.

He sat down on the floor and let the babies crawl over him, scooping up one and then another and blowing raspberries on their pj-covered bellies. He’d always thought that when people said that their children’s laughter was the best sound in the world it was a cliché, but now he got it. There was no more beautiful sound. Particularly baby giggles.

“Da-da!” Henry said, throwing a foam block at him and laughing.

Theo sucked in a breath. “Did he just call me da-da?”

“Well, to be honest, they call all men ‘da-da’—the mailman, the teenaged checkout bagger at the supermarket, George Futters three doors down, and he’s ninety-two. It’s developmental at this age.”

“Except this time, Henry got it right,” he said, unable to shake what had to be a goofy smile on his face. He picked up Henry and held him out a bit, running a finger down his impossibly soft cheek. “You’re right, Henry. I am da-da. I’m your daddy.”

Allie burst into tears.

“Hey,” he said gently, Henry in one arm while he reached the other out to her. “What’s wrong?”

She wiped under her eyes. “I just never thought I’d hear that. That they’d hear that. Their father saying ‘I’m your daddy.’ Holding them. Being here.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she was smiling at the same time.

He nodded, unable to speak, his chest feeling way too tight to contain his heart.

He picked up Tyler. “I’m your daddy,” he said, kissing the top of his head. Then he did the same with Ethan and Olivia.

“Well, I guess the introductions have been made,” Allie said, grabbing a tissue from the box on a shelf and dabbing at her eyes. “I have to say, Theo, this is going well.”

For once, he’d made her cry in a good way.

But he still heard the so far that she hadn’t added.

But then it was Olivia’s turn to throw a foam block at Henry, which started a round of shrieking, and he watched Allie turn into supermom, gently disciplining Olivia with a “no throwing,” and suddenly Theo was right in the thick of it all, feeling very much like he belonged.

It was only when he’d glance at Allie that he’d feel a distance, a disconnection. Babies were easy. No history. They didn’t talk. You took care of them and loved them and nurtured them and all was well. Allie—his wife—was a whole other story.

But he’d been waiting almost two years for this moment. And he was going to make it work—no matter how hard it was or how long it took.


Chapter Four (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

A few hours later, Allie was in the kitchen, dropping fresh ravioli into a pot of boiling water. She had some frozen ravioli and tons of easy-to-defrost-and-reheat dishes in the freezer, but tonight felt special and Allie wanted to cook. The quads loved her four-cheese ravioli in a simple butter glaze, and Theo had always loved it, too, but with her grandmother’s amazing garlicky marinara sauce and garlic bread.

She could hear Theo in the family room, talking to the babies. He was finding his way in interacting with them, talking to them, and it made her smile. Ah, Tyler, I see you like screeching at the top of your lungs when one of your siblings dares go after the toy you were aiming for. You could get a job as a screamer in a horror film with that set of lungs. Then: Why yes, Olivia, it’s fine for you to bang that stuffed rattle on my knee. Thank you.

A bit earlier he’d tried reading them a story but had quickly discovered eleven-month-olds didn’t sit quietly for story time. He’d given up on that and crawled around the floor with them, and her heart was about to burst, so she’d excused herself to the kitchen to start dinner.

As if this were the most normal thing, her husband, her children’s father, playing with them in the family room while she cooked. As she gave the ravioli a stir, she pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t all a dream. It wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Her sister Lila.

Well??? We’re dying for info here!

She smiled and texted back: All good. He’s playing with them.

We’re still in shock.

Her, too. Join the club.

See you sometime tomorrow for the deets. Xo

She was draining the pasta when she realized she was still wearing the Irish friendship ring that Elliot had given her when he’d proposed. She put the big pot back on the stove and then took off the ring and put it in the mishmash drawer of menus and rubber bands.

She looked at her left hand. That’s better, she thought, wondering about her wedding rings. Her rings and Theo’s were in her jewelry box upstairs, in the bottom drawer that she never opened. Should she put them back on? Give him back his?

Or should they put them on when they felt more settled?

She had no idea, but dinner was ready, so she tried to put the rings out of her head and headed into the family room. Theo was on his hands and knees, playfully calling out, “I’m gonna get you,” the babies crawling and giggling.

This was all I ever wanted, she thought, watching them. And now I have it. This has to work, she told herself. We will make this work.

Even if he felt like a stranger right now. He wouldn’t always, right? He’d been back in her life for just a couple of hours. She had to give it time.

We will earn back those rings.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “You grab two, I’ll grab two?” she suggested.

She said it like she said it every day. She could seriously get used to this. Live like this.

“I’m on it,” he said. “Okay, you two,” he said to the babies closest to him. “Time for dinner! Here I come!” They squealed and he scooped one up in each arm, Olivia beaming at him, Ethan grabbing his ear and giggling.

Whose house is this? Whose life is this? Where am I? Afraid she’d burst into ridiculous happy tears, she quickly reached for Henry and Tyler and followed Theo, marching and making fi, fi, fo, fum noises, into the kitchen.

“We certainly weren’t figuring in quadruplets when we bought this place,” he said, trying to maneuver Olivia’s legs into the high chair seat. Not easy with another baby in his other arm. He finally got her settled, then slid Ethan into his seat, giving the harness a click.

With the babies in their high chairs around the kitchen table, cut-up ravioli on their little plates, Allie watched Theo discover the joys of trying to eat dinner with four eleven-month-olds sitting between them.

You do want kids, though, right? she’d asked him on their third date when she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to marry him, that he was the one. He’d been talking about his plans for the future, about making detective, then sergeant, then, hopefully one day, captain.

Someday, he’d said. Right now I honestly can’t imagine.

At twenty-four, that had sounded right to her. She hadn’t been necessarily ready to be a mother at twenty-four, either. And so she’d married the love of her life, the man of her dreams, counting on someday.

Except he couldn’t imagine having children at twenty-nine, either, when their arguments had begun to turn from his dedication to his job to his refusal to give her a timeline for starting a family. The last year of their marriage was a doozy. If he couldn’t agree for them to get pregnant when they were turning thirty, then when? Then never, she’d known.

During their engagement, when she’d told him she wanted to marry in the Wedlock Creek Chapel, but, nudge-nudge-wink-wink, there was that legend about the multiples, so they might have quintuplets next year, he’d said: Does anyone really believe there’s a fertility spell on the chapel? Come on.

Allie believed. Wedlock Creek was chock-full of multiples, of all ages, produced by people who’d gotten married at the century-old chapel. Of course, she knew plenty of couples who’d married at the chapel who had singles or trouble getting pregnant at all. Still, she liked to believe and so she did.

But Theo hadn’t been ready for kids, so Allie dutifully used birth control. And then that crazy night when it had failed her—failed them... She and Theo had been arguing, neither refusing to budge from their points, their “rightness,” and then Theo had shaken his head and said he was sorry and just pulled her into his arms, and they’d both shut up. He just held her and she’d gripped him, wishing things could be different, as she knew he did. And when he kissed her, she kissed him back and he’d made love to her on the couch with tenderness and passion and she felt his love like she hadn’t in months.

She’d conceived the quadruplets that night.

But the next night, he’d forgotten they’d had plans to attend an award ceremony—her sister Merry was receiving a Brewster County Elementary Teacher of the Year Award—and he’d been unreachable, something she hated. He’d come home at 3:00 a.m., full of apologies and a reason she couldn’t fault him for, involving a cop down and a manhunt. And on and on it went, the hurt and stewing, the two leading different lives, their connection breaking up. Those last few weeks, when he’d reach for her, she’d turn away.




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