In an excited rush to get to their Christmas presents, the triplets were up at dawn. Normally, this would have been difficult for Megan, but since she’d spent a sleepless night second-guessing herself and her taste in men, three hyper girls were a nice distraction. For the two hours that it took them to open their gifts and ooh and aah over the contents of their stockings, Megan managed to keep most of her focus on her daughters. She doled out smiles and hugs and hot cocoa that was 90 percent melted marshmallow. But as the time drew closer for Spencer to arrive, her mood soured.
She got the girls dressed and cleaned up the shredded wrapping paper that decorated her living room like confetti. Then she considered her own clothing options. Frankly, she would just as soon spend the whole day in her robe. Then again, there was a sliver of female vanity that insisted she put on a good face in front of her ex and the new woman in his life. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a festive Christmas sweater that felt ironic in her current frame of mind, then brushed her hair until it shone. She was securing it into a high, bouncy ponytail when the recently repaired doorbell rang. She winced, immediately thinking of Will as she made her way to the front of the house.
And that is the last thought you spare him for the rest of the day, she chastised herself. After all, ending things had been her idea. She needed to own her decision and move forward, confident that she was doing the right thing for herself and her daughters. It was so tempting to believe that Will might really love her, that his feelings would continue past the rose-colored Christmas season even though he no longer needed her help with Tommy. She wanted to give him—wanted to give them—the benefit of the doubt. Just as she’d given Spencer the benefit of the doubt when she listened to him instead of her own instincts, taking his word for it that there was no affair. After her worst suspicions had proven true, and he’d tearfully told her that it was a onetime panicked reaction to learning they were about to have not just one baby but three, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt again. And had been burned.
How foolish would she be not to trust her instincts now, to take a man’s word over what she felt was true? She knew Will cared about her, but she came as a package deal. How long would it take before he resented the loss of his freedom, before he balked at the responsibility of three little girls? I can’t take that chance.
The doorbell sounded again, this time accompanied by Spencer’s voice. “Megan?”
Oops. She hadn’t realized that she’d stopped dead in the foyer, no longer making any progress toward the door. But she forced herself to reach for the knob, pasting a big smile on her face. “Merry Christmas,” she said as she swung the door open.
There stood Spencer, looking exactly the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, right down to what she was pretty sure was the same tie. Honestly, who wore a suit to spend Christmas morning with his children? She turned her attention from him to the woman at his side, trying not to gape in surprise. “You, um, you must be Bonnie.”
Like Megan, the woman had long, dark hair and light eyes. Her height and shape were roughly the same as Megan’s, too. He definitely has a type. She heard Will’s voice in her head. I’m partial to brunettes.
Dammit, so much for her vow not to think about Will. She scowled. Then, realizing that Spencer and Bonnie were staring at her, forced her features back into a smile. “Come in, come in. The girls are excited to see you both.” She’d debated telling the girls about the engagement, so that they had time to get used to the idea and didn’t startle their father with any meltdowns. In the end, however, she’d decided against it. Not only wasn’t the engagement her news to share, they’d never even met Bonnie. She had decided it would be less traumatic if they could see she was a kind, normal person; based on the evil stepmothers prevalent in animated fairy tales, they might imagine the worst. Also, since Spencer was not the most reliable man on the planet, Megan wanted to make sure that he actually went through with the proposal—and that Bonnie accepted—before anyone potentially upset the triplets.
“Here, let me help you with those.” She reached out to give them a hand with the tower of presents they carried, trying to sneak a glance at Bonnie’s ring finger. Sure enough, a diamond engagement ring glittered there. It was funny how numb Megan was at the sight. She would’ve expected to feel more upset, more betrayed, more wistful for what-might’ve-been. But she was so emotionally wrung out over Will that her only response was a mental shrug. I hope Bonnie knows what she’s getting into. And I hope Spencer does better this time around.
In a low voice, she said to them, “Looks like congratulations are in order. I have a bottle of champagne in the back of the fridge we can open later. It’s cheap, but sincere.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Thank you. That’s unbelievably kind.”
“My pleasure.” Maybe this day would be easier with a glass of alcohol. But as much she wanted to believe it, she doubted anything would make this day easier. Or the next day, or the one after that. She’d dealt with a broken heart before, and she knew it would take lots and lots of time.
She just had to take comfort in the fact that she’d ended things with Will before they got any more serious and her daughters’ hearts were broken, too.
* * *
WILL’S GOAL HAD been to make it through Christmas dinner; if he could make it that long, then he could excuse himself to go home without suffocating guilt. Traditionally, there was a Christmas-themed game night after the table was cleared and the kitchen cleaned, but he knew he was lousy company. The only saving grace was that everybody was so distracted—the kids with presents, Kate and Cole with each other, his parents with maintaining order—he doubted anyone had noticed.
As it turned out, he was wrong. But then, that was becoming a pattern.
“What gives?” Jace asked out of the side of his mouth.
“What are you talking about?” Will paid heavy attention to the glass pan he was scrubbing, not meeting his brother’s gaze. “And why are you talking like an old-school movie mobster?”
Jace set down the plates he’d been carrying and folded his arms across his chest. “I was trying to be discreet. I figured that if you haven’t mentioned by now what’s wrong, then you don’t want everyone to know.”
“What makes you think I want you to know?”
Jace studied him for a long minute. “It’s Megan, isn’t it?”
He flinched at the sound of her name, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of pain that accompanied it. Her voice echoed in his head, taunting, telling him that their relationship had reached its natural end. What a load of crap.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jace said. “Man, I was hoping to be wrong. But she made you happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, so it stood to reason that maybe she is what’s making you so miserable.”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” Cole asked as he carried in two tumblers and set about refilling them with iced tea.
“Will and Megan got into a fight.”
“It wasn’t a fight.”
“What did you do wrong?” Cole asked.
Will glared. “What the hell kind of brotherly support is that?”
“Arguably more supportive than you were,” Cole said. “Do you happen to recall when Kate and I first started to get serious and she was tentative about being involved with a cop? Your supportive words of wisdom included something about how if there was an obstacle in the road, maybe it was better to avoid the road altogether.”
Heat crept up his neck. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.” The way Will had been hurt before, the way he was hurting again now.
“Understood.” Cole clapped him on the back. “So what did you do wrong?”
Will balled his hands into fists. Not a damn thing. He’d been attentive, passionate, thoughtful. Admiring of her skills as a mother, kind to her children. Yet none of it had been enough. “The only thing I did wrong was fall for another woman without the good sense to appreciate me.”
* * *
THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS, her daughters gave Megan the best gift possible—a quiet morning. After all the excitement yesterday, they slept well past nine on Monday, and she decided not to wake them up. Forget organized schedules and keeping the girls on track, knowing she’d need to wake them up early again tomorrow; right now she needed the peace.
So, naturally, her mother called two minutes after Megan sat down to enjoy her chai tea.
Megan reached for the phone grudgingly but unwilling to let it keep ringing, for fear it might wake the girls. “Hello?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Megan? Are you sick, dear? Your throat sounds scratchy.”
Yes, say you’re sick. Maybe she’ll let you hang up without a massive guilt trip. Then again, a lie could backfire horribly, if her mother showed up for another surprise visit, determined to nurse her back to health. “I’m fine.” Funny how that felt more like a lie than saying she was sick.
“I left you a voice mail yesterday, to wish you and the girls a merry Christmas.”
“I know, thanks. I heard it right before I went to bed. I was planning to call you later, when the girls are up and can tell you about their presents from Santa. Yesterday was crazy with Spencer here.”
“And that woman? Did he actually bring her?” her mother asked disdainfully.
“Bonnie. She seemed nice enough.” Megan didn’t bear the woman any ill will. “As far as I know, he met her a few months ago. She had nothing to do with our marriage ending, and she was friendly to the kids. Daisy and Iris really liked her. Lily mostly hid in the corner behind the rocking chair, eyeing her skeptically, but that was her reaction to Spencer, too.” He’d been humiliated that he had so much trouble coaxing out his own child in front of his fiancée. Megan had empathized, but she refused to force Lily to interact with virtual strangers. If Spencer wanted to be treated like a beloved daddy, he needed to start acting like one.
“Is he still in town?”
“They were planning to leave this morning and spend a few days with Bonnie’s mom in Oklahoma.”
As it turned out, when Spencer had said they were spending Christmas with Bonnie’s parents, he’d meant her father and stepmother, who’d primarily raised her. It was her background as the child of divorce, she’d told Megan, that made her understand how important it was for Spencer to maintain a relationship with his children, for all the adults in the situation to behave cordially. Apparently, it was only in the last few years that her own parents had been able to enter the same room without screaming at each other.
“I think Bonnie might actually be good for him,” Megan said.
“And have you given any more thought to what’s good for you and the girls?”
“You’re talking about Will?” She did not want to discuss this. But why not get it over with so that she didn’t have to endure any more well-intentioned, unsolicited advice? “Actually, he and I are no longer seeing each other.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry. But I did try to warn you. You have three daughters. You can’t be surprised that a man like him—”
“I broke up with him, Mother, not the other way around.”
“Oh.” That shut her up.
They sat in awkward silence, Megan sipping the tea that had started to grow cold.
Finally, Beth Ann offered, “I think being involved with him would be a mistake—I’ve made no secret of that—but I’m truly sorry for any interim pain. All I wish for you is happiness. I didn’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“Neither did I.” And yet here I am.
* * *
AT THE UNEXPECTED knock on his front door, hope rushed through Will. Maybe Megan had changed her mind? He knew from experience that she was unafraid to admit when she was wrong, one of her brave qualities, and if she’d missed him the last two days half as much as he’d missed her...
He hustled to the door, banging his shin on a table and stubbing a toe along the way. But he knew any pain would fade at the sight of her face. Unfortunately, the woman on his front porch was a pretty blonde he’d never seen before in his life.
“Can I help you?” Maybe she was visiting relatives for the holidays and had shown up at the wrong house by mistake.
She gave him an appraising look. “Are you Will Trent?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Nadine Reynolds,” she said, grasping his hand in both of hers.
“You’re Aunt Nadine?” She could hardly be ten years older than Amy. “You’re a lot younger than I expected.”
Her grin brought out two dimples. “Back at you! The way Amy talked about how ‘solid’ and ‘wise’ you are and your experience as a fireman, she made you sound... I hesitate to use the word fatherly.”
“Please, hesitate. Let’s go with big brotherly.”
She picked up a gift basket that had been sitting by her feet. “This is for you. As both a Christmas present and a thank-you. You were a genuine lifesaver.”
“She’s the one who was willing to admit she needed help and sought it out. I can’t take all the credit. I can, however, accept these delicious-looking goodies.” He reached for the basket of cheese and sausage and gourmet crackers, trying to look appropriately grateful. But it reminded him of the baskets-in-progress that frequently lined Megan’s counters and took up space in her spare bedroom. Refusing to glance toward Megan’s house, he ushered Nadine inside before he did something stupid. Like stare next door and sigh longingly at the rain gutters. She doesn’t want you. Have some pride.
“I hope you don’t mind my coming over to gather the last of Tommy’s things,” Nadine said as he brought an armload of supplies out of his bedroom. “Amy wanted to come herself, but she decided she owed in-person explanations to all of her former employers. So she borrowed her mom’s car to run those errands, and I volunteered to take care of this. We’d like to hit the road first thing in the morning.”
“Is Tommy with her mother?”
“No.” Nadine’s smile was rueful. “Amy hasn’t let him out of her sight since she came over here Christmas Eve. She missed him so much.”
“It’s good of you to let them live with you,” he said as he glanced around, doing one last sweep for stray teething rings and containers of wet wipes.
“I was screwed up through my teens and twenties and never got married or had children. This is like my second chance at a family. Which I guess doesn’t make a lick of sense, since I never had a first chance.”
“I knew what you meant,” he assured her as he escorted her to the door, both of them carrying Tommy’s belongings.
Once they had everything loaded in the trunk of her car, he gave her his phone number. “I know Amy already has it, but I’d like you to have it, too. In case of an emergency, I guess. Or just... Please text me pictures of the little man?” A staggering wave of melancholy hit him. “I miss him.”
“Regular reports,” she promised. Then she surprised him by throwing her arms around him and squeezing him in a friendly hug. “Thank you so much, Mr. Trent.”
“You’re wel—” He froze, some sixth sense alerting him that they were being watched. Glancing over Nadine’s shoulder, he saw Megan standing just outside her front door, a trash bag in each hand. She looked stricken, eyeing him in the embrace of another woman. “Megan!”
But instead of answering, she pivoted and fled back into the house, garbage bags and all.
He swore under his breath, and Nadine took a nervous step backward. “That was your neighbor Megan? Amy mentioned her, too. Is...everything all right?”
No. And not just because Megan had glimpsed him holding another woman; that was a stupid misunderstanding. The stupid part was that, even after all they’d shared, Megan didn’t know him well enough to understand there was no way he could be with someone else two days after she’d kicked him to the curb. Did she truly have no comprehension of what she’d meant to him? Did she really think he was so shallow that he could replace her as easily as batteries in a smoke alarm?
If that’s what she thought of him, perhaps it was for the best that she’d set him free. But he was getting damn tired of having to find these silver linings in the aftermath of his wrecked relationships. There were only so many blessings in disguise a guy could take.
* * *
“HEY.” KIM JORDAN snapped her fingers in front of Will’s face. “Are you awake, or did you master the elusive art of sleeping with your eyes open?”
He glanced up from the table at the station house, bleary-eyed. “If I were sleeping, I’d look better rested.” He’d been on call for two days and was starting to feel it, despite the hours he’d taken in the bunk room.
“Well, you’re off shift now. Go home.”
“I’m not off shift until Thursday evening.”
“Trent, it is Thursday evening.”
“Oh. Guess I’d better head home, then.” Home to his unnaturally quiet house to be alone. He didn’t want to be around his family members, who kept trying to give him romantic advice. And he didn’t want to date anyone ever again.
Why the hell not? She already thinks you are. Being celibate and miserable wasn’t going to change anything.
“Kim, do you want to go out with me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Just how sleep deprived are you? I have a serious boyfriend.”
“Right. I knew that. I was kidding.”
“Your sense of humor is getting weirder every day. Go home, get some sleep.”
It was sound advice, but even as he gathered his belongings, he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for returning to his house. Maybe because every time he drove up to it, he also saw her house. He took a solemn oath never to date another woman who lived on his street—not that he expected sixty-three-year-old Juliana Baracnik, the only other single female on Wyatt Lane, to make a play for him anytime soon.
Muttering to himself about learning from his mistakes, he almost crashed into someone coming out of the captain’s office. When he glanced up to apologize, he found Becca Johnston peering at him.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“Don’t worry about me, but are you okay?”
“Maybe more light-headed than I should be. I didn’t eat lunch.” He wasn’t entirely certain he’d eaten breakfast. Although he’d managed a few bites at Christmas to spare his mom’s feelings, he hadn’t had any real appetite all week. “I’ll grab something along Main Street before I drive home. Becca, would you like to have dinner with me?” She didn’t live in his neighborhood.
Becca was attractive and intelligent, so why had he never asked her out? Possibly because she was a single mother, although that no longer seemed like a deterrent. Or maybe because she used to harbor unrequited feelings for his brother Cole, although that was ancient history. Or, perhaps, Will had never considered dating her because she was widely regarded as terrifying. She was extremely single-minded, but at the moment he found that a refreshing, attractive quality.
“I admire you, Becca. And do you know why? Because you’re a take-charge woman who knows her mind.” Not someone who waffled, seeming to adore you one day and pushing you out of her life the next. If you screwed up, Becca would let you know—and likely make you pay—but a man would know where he stood with her. There would be no yanking the rug out from under him just when he was comfortable with his life, just when he dared to be happy again. “The Smoky Pig’s only a block away. How about it?”
“It is difficult to turn down someone who admires my mind and isn’t afraid of a strong woman.” She made a face. “I’ve discovered since my divorce that some men in this town are wimps. The rest all seem bitter about my louse of an ex-husband swindling them in real estate fraud. You didn’t do any business with him, did you?”
“Nope.”
She locked her arm through his. “Then let’s get our barbecue on.”
“Wonderful.” He even had a gift certificate in his wallet to pay for the meal.
* * *
HALFWAY THROUGH DINNER, Will was beginning to regret his impulsive invitation. Becca, despite her reputation as a benevolent tyrant, was surprisingly good company. But he discovered that he no longer knew how to behave on a date. After Tasha left, he’d reinvented himself as Will Trent, Ladies’ Man. He’d been full of charm and flirtatious patter. That felt meaningless now, and an insult to Becca’s intelligence.
Once they’d discussed why she’d been at the station house—to finalize arrangements for on-site firefighters during the town’s New Year’s Eve fireworks—he had no idea what to say to her. During one particularly awkward lull in conversation, he finally thought to do the obvious and asked her about her son, Marc, who was in elementary school.
Becca glowed with maternal pride as she listed his recent accomplishments, including winter spelling bee champion. She wiped all the barbecue sauce off her fingers so that she could pull out her phone and illustrate her stories with pictures. Before Will knew what he was doing, he’d reached for his own phone to show her the two baby photos Amy had sent yesterday. Once he was scrolling through snapshots, it seemed only natural to show her a picture of the triplets in their Christmas dresses and one he’d taken at the Leonard Tree Farm of Iris “hiding,” completely visible behind a skinny pine tree.
When he realized that Becca’s responses had become more stilted, he suddenly glanced up to find her regarding him with a combination of annoyance and sympathy. How long had he been talking about Megan and her children? “I’m a terrible date, aren’t I?” What the hell happened to me? Last month, he’d been great at this. “Instead of getting to know you better, I’m boring you with pictures of kids who aren’t even mine.”
“I’m not bored. But I am wondering why you asked me to dinner,” Becca said with her characteristic bluntness, “and not Megan Rivers.”
He was at a loss for how to respond; he hadn’t expected the topic of Megan to come up on his date. Then maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned her, genius. “Megan’s my next-door neighbor. She’s a nice lady, but we’re just friends.”
“Will.” She tilted her head, giving him an exasperated who-are-you-kidding? look. “Everyone from here to Turtle knows about your kiss under the mistletoe. And I was at your brother’s wedding, remember?”
Oh. Actually, he’d forgotten that. Becca and Kate did lots of community work together, so of course his sister-in-law would have invited her. But he hadn’t noticed Becca that night. Probably because he’d been preoccupied with his own date.
“All right,” he relented, “there was something romantic between me and Megan. But it was short-lived.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
Was he ever going to feel happy again? “I just need time. I’ll get over her.” Like he’d gotten over Tasha.
“Why?”
He stared, unable to make sense of the question. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you trying to get over her instead of trying to get her back?”
How would he win her back? And, more importantly, why should he? She had pushed him away. “Megan doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you big dummy.”
“Um, Becca? Statements like that are why people find you abrasive.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “There are worse things in this world than a little abrasion. Real estate fraud, for one. Quitters, for another.”
“I’m not a quitter!” He hadn’t meant to say that so loudly. Other diners turned to stare. In a much softer tone, he asked, “Why would you say I don’t know what I’m talking about? Do you have some reason to believe Megan has feelings for me?”
“Aside from the obvious adoration on her face at the wedding? I went in her shop yesterday to order some gift baskets as luncheon door prizes, and she looked worse than you do. Shadows under her eyes, no smile for her customers. She looks heartbroken.”
Despite an effort to remain indifferent, he felt a small leap of hope. “If she wanted to be with me, why push me away?”
“What explanation did she give you?”
“That she was safeguarding her daughters against an eventual breakup.” Which was a load of manure. She was safeguarding herself because she didn’t trust him. Will deserved a woman who held a higher opinion of him.
Becca fiddled with the straw in her iced tea. “You have to understand where she’s coming from.”
The hell I do.
“Take it from another single mom, divorce leaves us fragile.”
“You are about as fragile as steel rebar.”
She beamed. “I’d like to think I handle my vulnerabilities better than some. But it makes sense that she’s hesitant to put her and her children in the position to be hurt again. Would you say Tasha breaking up with you had any lasting effects?”
He recalled the unexpected swell of bitterness during his tuxedo fitting. “Yeah.”
“So imagine the scars you would have if that breakup came after years of marriage. It’s even worse if you feel betrayed because your husband was a dishonest son of a bitch.” She said it matter-of-factly, but there was lingering pain in her eyes. When her husband skipped town with stolen money, no one had been more appalled or angry than Becca.
“Megan’s husband did lie to her,” he said slowly.
If there was one person in the world that you should be able to trust, shouldn’t it be your spouse? Yet Spencer had deceived and manipulated her. Maybe the problem was not her distrusting Will but herself. After being wrong before, how was she supposed to gauge when a man would keep his vows? Especially since you never got around to making any. Megan hadn’t given him the chance to tell her he loved her.
Because she was scared. She’d been afraid that Will wouldn’t be there for her and her daughters, that he wouldn’t stick around. So the best way to prove his feelings was to do exactly that—stay put and show her he wouldn’t be run off at the first sign of trouble.
“Becca, I’m not a quitter.”
“So you keep saying,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t tell me. Go tell her.”
* * *
TRYING TO LOSE herself in work, Megan was typing up an inventory supply order while Dagmar listed things they needed to restock. Megan almost never worked this late, but the triplets had been invited by a friend from preschool to a movie tonight. She’d much rather be here in the shop than home alone, torturing herself with peeks out her window to see if women were coming and going from Will’s house.
She’d reacted like a complete lunatic when she saw him hugging that blonde earlier in the week. For starters, it had looked like a friendly embrace. Hardly evidence that they’d just finished having mad, passionate sex. Besides, even if they had, she’d forfeited the right to be upset about it. But what had truly gutted her in that moment was looking across the driveway and realizing how much she wanted to be in Will’s arms. She was torn up over her decision to stop seeing him, and the triplets weren’t helping—constantly asking when he was going to come over and have dinner with them again or wanting to make him new art projects. That kind of attachment is exactly why you had to give him up, so the girls don’t get overly invested.
I did the right thing. Maybe.
Well, her mother certainly believed Megan was in the right. Of course, Beth Ann had also believed Megan should have stayed married to a serial cheater, so what did she know?
Megan suspected that Kate Sullivan Trent was not thrilled with her decision, but since her friend was gone on her honeymoon, Megan didn’t have to face her yet. She heaved a sigh, wondering if she should get Dagmar’s opinion.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, mouse. You— Oh my.” Dagmar glanced past the desk toward the front of the store, her eyes huge.
“What is it?” The bell hadn’t rung, so nobody had entered the shop.
“I...just realized that I may have left my stove on at lunchtime. I’d better get straight home and check. Lock up when you leave,” she called, already scurrying toward the exit, her coat hanging off one arm as she grabbed her purse.
She was in such a rush that Megan almost believed the stove excuse. Except that, if she wasn’t mistaken, her aunt had been smiling. She rose from the desk and followed after Dagmar to investigate. Her aunt hurried out of the store, nearly bowling over Will Trent, who was on his way in. She’d obviously seen him through the floor-to-ceiling window looking out on Main Street.
Megan swallowed. Was he coming here specifically to see her? She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. It was just as likely that he was running an errand for Gayle. Or, for all she knew, maybe Captain Hooper had decided the station house could use some floral touches.
He stepped inside, and their eyes locked. She gripped the counter, feeling faint. “Will.” She’d meant to sound composed and cordial, but the word came out a breathy plea. For what, forgiveness? She didn’t blame him for being angry with her. Was she making an unconscious appeal for a second chance? Because nothing had changed since Christmas Eve. That’s not entirely true. Now you have a more concrete idea of how miserable you are without him.
Exactly. She was even more painfully aware of the risks.
“I’m here to order flowers,” he told her from the other side of the counter.
So it was a professional reason, not a personal one. The disappointment was so staggering she nearly lost her balance. She swallowed hard. “Of course. What kind?”
“I don’t know.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “What are your favorite flowers?”
“You want me to make a recommendation?” Her throat burned. She was surprised to realize she hadn’t pulled her hand away yet, but his touch was almost like an anchor, keeping her paradoxically steady even as he was the reason she felt adrift.
“I want to order flowers for you.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “It may be tacky to have you make your own bouquet, but there’s no other florist in Cupid’s Bow.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
He let go of her hand, and the loss was acute. But then he rounded the counter, coming toward her. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears it was amazing she could still hear him.
“I don’t know what your favorite flowers are, Megan, but I want to. There are so many things I want to discover about you, if you’ll give us that chance.”
She bit her lip, so tempted to say yes. Was succumbing to him smart, or merely self-indulgent?
“But there are some things I know for sure about you,” he continued. “I know you’re a fantastic mother who’d do just about anything for her kids. I know that you hate mushrooms, that you’re a terrific cook despite a regrettable tendency to sneak broccoli into food, that you’re strong and self-reliant, that you have a wicked sense of humor. I know your kisses make me crazy, I know how you taste when you’re turned on. And I know that you deserve a strong man who will love you and only you. I’m that man, Megan.”
She pressed a hand to her midsection, trying to catch her breath, reeling from his declaration. A tear slid over her cheek, and she realized it wasn’t the first one.
“I do love you,” he repeated softly. “I know those words aren’t a magical guarantee. I’d give you one if I could, but that’s not how life works. Still, I’m willing to earn your trust. If you really don’t want me, say it and I’ll go. But if there’s a chance that—”
“Don’t go.” She clutched at his hand. What was an abstract, possible future pain compared to the absolute certainty of devastation if he walked out the door right now?
He was right, life didn’t come with guarantees. But, judging by how his words had made her feel, it came with miraculous happiness. You just had to be brave enough to take the risk. Her mother had tried to convince her to stay in a bad marriage because she’d been afraid single life would be too hard. What did Megan want to cling to—fearful resignation, or courageous joy?
She took a deep breath. “I love you, too.” Despite her past hurts, despite her fears, the words weren’t hard to say at all. They tumbled out freely, and as soon as she’d said them she felt relieved, lighter. Ecstatic.
He crushed her against him for a hungry kiss, and her happy tears dampened both of their faces.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured across his lips. “So sorry...”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he smiled down at her. “Quit apologizing, woman, and kiss me back.”
She did, fervently. With a groan, he dropped his hands to her butt and pulled her closer. Need sizzled between them, but she couldn’t act on it in front of the window for all of Cupid’s Bow to see. A Mistletoe Moment was one thing; Florist In Flagrante was quite another.
“What if I lock up early?” she asked, nipping at his bottom lip. “And give you a tour of the back?”
He straightened. “You know, I have always wanted to see the back of a flower shop.”
“Then it’s about to be your lucky day.”
* * *
“ARM’S LENGTH,” WILL called across the dark yard. “Make sure you hold the sparkler at arm’s length, Luke. And when it goes out—”
“We know,” Jace interrupted with a groan. He set his beer on the deck railing and gave Megan a long-suffering look. “Can’t you make out with him and distract him from boring us with the same safety lectures he gives every year? We get it—wear the gloves, put the extinguished sparklers in the bucket of water, only let children over the age of five hold one.”
Megan’s triplets didn’t seem upset over not handling sparklers. Lily and Iris were happily coloring with Alyssa at the picnic table, beneath the glow of tiki lanterns and twinkle lights. Daisy was down in the yard with Luke and Mandy, but the attention from the older kids seemed to be more of a draw than the sparklers. They’d all gathered in the backyard of Kate and Cole’s new house to celebrate New Year’s Eve. The newlyweds were barely moved in, all of their belongings still in boxes, but Cole said they’d have a decent view of the town fireworks display.
Will put his arm around her and tugged her against his side. “You heard the man. Care to make out with me and prevent me from being tedious?”
“You are never tedious. But I’m happy to make out with you anyway.” She reached up to press her mouth to his, a soul-deep sense of belonging filling her. Behind her, Alyssa and Iris giggled, reminding her that they had an audience. “Maybe we should find a darker corner.”
“Maybe we should leave immediately after the fireworks,” Will whispered against her ear, “and make sure the girls are asleep well before midnight. I have very specific ideas on how I want to ring in the New Year.”
She blushed, hoping it was too dark for Will’s family to notice. “You’re good with holidays. You made the girls’ Christmas season magical, and this is the best New Year’s Eve ever.”
“Just wait until you see what I have in store for you on Valentine’s Day.” He winked at her. “And on Saint Patrick’s Day. And the Cupid’s Bow Centennial. And International Talk Like a Pirate Day. And Arbor Day!”
She laughed but knew that beneath the silliness of his words was a promise. They had a future together, countless holidays to share and memories to build. He stood by his word, and he would stand by her, loving her faithfully—even at her most prickly.
Kate glanced across the deck and raised her glass of wine in an unspoken toast to their happiness. “Remind me, who caught my bridal bouquet, again?”
As recently as last week, Megan would have blustered that she didn’t know if she’d ever remarry, that she was certainly in no hurry to jeopardize her heart again. Now she merely smiled, snuggling against the man she loved, basking in hope and possibilities.
* * * * *