Reed kept the door of his office closed the next morning at the police station. He was in no mood for chitchat and Sergeant Howerton always dropped in on his way from the tiny kitchen to talk about his golf game and Officer Debowski always wanted to replay any collars from the day before. Reed didn’t want to hear any of it.
He chugged his dark-brew coffee, needing the caffeine boost to help him concentrate on the case he was reading through. A set of burglaries in the condo development. Weird thing was, the thief, or thieves, was taking unusual items besides the usual money, jewelry and small electronics. Blankets and pillows, including throw pillows, had been taken from all the hit-up units.
Instead of making a list of what kind of thief would go for down comforters, he kept seeing Norah and the high school sweetheart with their hands all over each other. Were they in bed right now? He had to keep blinking and squeezing his eyes shut.
He wondered how long the guy had stayed last night. Reed should have made some excuse to barge in and interrupt them a bunch of times. Checking on the boiler or something. Instead, he’d reminded himself that the reason the French chef was there was because of Reed’s own stupidity and stubbornness and inability to play well with others. Except babies.
He slammed a palm over his face. Were they having breakfast right now? Was Norah in his button-down shirt and nothing else? Having pancakes on the Barelli family table?
Idiot! he yelled at himself. This is all your fault. He’d stepped away. He’d said he couldn’t. He’d said he wouldn’t. And now he’d lost Norah to the high school sweetheart who wanted a wife and kids. They were probably talking about the glory days right now. And kissing.
Dammit to hell! He got up and paced his office, trying to force his mind off Norah and onto a down-feather-appreciating burglar. A Robin Hood on their hands? Or maybe someone who ran a flea market?
He’s going to give us lessons in French cooking, Norah’s mother had said. Suddenly, Reed was chopped liver to the Ingalls women, having been replaced by the beef bourguignon pot pie.
So what are you going to do about this? he asked himself. Just let her go? Let the triplets go? You’re their father!
And he was Norah’s husband. Husband, husband, husband. He tried to make the word have meaning, but the more it echoed in his head, the less meaning it had. Husband meant suffering in his memories. His mother had had two louses and his grandfather had been a real doozy. He thought of his grandmother trying to answer Reed’s questions about why she’d chosen such a grouch who didn’t like anyone or anything. She’d said that sometimes people changed, but even so, she knew who he was and, despite his ways, he’d seemed to truly love her and that had made her feel special. She’d always said she should have known if you’re the only one, the exception, there might be a problem.
So what now? Could he force himself to give this a real try? Romance a woman he had so much feeling for that it shook him to the core? Because he was shaken. That much he knew.
His head spinning, he was grateful when his desk phone rang.
“Detective Barelli speaking.”
“Reed! I’m so glad I caught you. It’s Annie. Annie Potterowski from the chapel. Oh dear, I’m afraid there’s a bit of a kerfuffle concerning your marriage license. Could you come to the chapel at ten? I’ve already called Norah and she’s coming.”
“What kind of kerfuffle?” he asked. What could be more of a kerfuffle than their entire wedding?
“I’ll explain everything when you get here. ’Bye now,” she said and hung up.
If there was one good thing to come from this kerfuffle, it was that he knew Norah would be apart from the high school sweetheart, even for just a little while.
“Annie, what on earth is going on?” Norah asked the elderly woman as she walked into the chapel, pushing the enormous stroller.
“Look at those li’l dumplings!” Abe said, hurrying over to say hello to the triplets. He made peekaboo faces and Bea started to cry. “Don’t like peekaboo, huh?” Abe said. “Okay, then, how about silly faces?” He scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue, tilting his head to the left. Bea seemed to like that. She stopped crying.
“I’m just waiting for Detective Barelli to arrive,” Annie said without looking at Norah.
Uh-oh. What was this about?
“Ah, there he is,” Annie said as Reed came down the aisle to the front of the chapel.
Reed crossed his arms over his chest. “About this kerfuffle—”
“Kerfuffle?” Norah said. “Anne used the words major problem when she called me.”
Annie bit her lip. “Well, it’s both really. A whole bunch of nothing, but a lot of something.”
Reed raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll just say it plain,” Abe said, straightening the blue bow-tie that he wore almost every day. “You two aren’t married. You spelled your names wrong on the marriage license.”
“What?” Norah said, her head spinning.
“The county clerk’s temporary replacement checked her first week’s work, just in case she made rookie errors, and discovered only one. On your marriage license. She sent back the license to you and Reed and to the chapel, since we officiated the ceremony. You didn’t receive your mail yet?”
Had Norah even checked the mail yesterday? Maybe not.
“I was on a case all day yesterday and barely had time to eat,” Reed said. “But what’s this about spelling our names wrong?”
Anne held up the marriage license. “Norah, you left off the h. And, Reed, you spelled your name R-e-a-d. I know there are lots of ways to spell your name, but that ain’t one of them.”
“Well, it’s not like you didn’t know we were drunk out of our minds, Annie and Abe!” Norah said, wagging a finger at them.
“I didn’t think to proofread your names, for heaven’s sake!” Annie said, snorting. “Now we’re supposed to be proofreaders, too?” she said to Abe. “Each wedding would take hours. I’d have to switch to my reading glasses, and I can never find them and—”
“Annie, what does this mean?” Reed asked. “You said we’re not married. Is that true? We’re not married because our names were spelled wrong?”
“Your legal names are not on that document or on the official documents at the clerk’s office,” Abe said.
“So we’re not married?” Norah repeated, looking at Reed. “We were never actually married?”
“Well, double accidentally, you were,” Annie said. “The spiked punch and the misspelling. You were married until the error was noted by the most efficient county clerk replacement in Brewer’s history.”
I’m not married. Reed is not my husband.
It’s over.
Her stomach hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt.
Reed walked over to Norah and seemed about to say something. But instead he knelt down in front of the stroller. “Hey, little guys. I miss you three.”
Brody gave Reed his killer gummy smile, three tiny teeth poking up.
She glanced at his hand. He still wore his wedding ring even though she’d taken hers off. Guess he’d take it off now.
“We’ll leave you to talk,” Annie said, ushering Abe into the back room.
Norah sat in a pew, a hand on the stroller for support. She wasn’t married to Reed. How could she feel so bereft when she never really had a marriage to begin with?
“We can go back to our lives now,” she said, her voice catching. She cleared her throat, trying to hide what an emotional mess she was inside. “I’ll move out of the ranch. Since we were never legally married, I’m sure that affects possession of the ranch. You can’t deed me something you didn’t rightfully inherit.”
She was babbling, talking so she wouldn’t burst into tears.
He stood, giving Bea’s hair a caress. “I guess Harrison will be glad to hear the news.”
“Harrison?”
“Your high school sweetheart,” he said. “The one you spent the night with.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What makes you think we spent the night together?”
“I drove by the house to see if his car was there.”
“Why? Why would you even care? You don’t have feelings for me, Reed.”
He looked away for a moment, then back at her. “I have a lot of feelings for you.”
“Right. You feel responsible for me. You care about me. You’re righting wrongs when you’re with me.”
He shook his head but didn’t say anything.
“I should get back to work,” she said.
“Me, too,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. “I guess when we walk out of here, it’s almost like none of it ever happened. We were never really married.”
“I felt married,” he said. Quite unexpectedly.
“And you clearly didn’t like the feeling.” She waited a beat, hoping he’d say she was wrong.
She waited another beat. Nothing.
“There’s nothing between me and Harrison,” she said without really having to. What did it matter to Reed anyway? His urge to drive by the ranch had probably been about him checking up on her, making sure she’d gotten back okay, the detective in him at work. “He did come over for a bit and was so insufferable I couldn’t wait for him to leave.”
He looked surprised. “But what about all the firsts you two shared?”
“Firsts? I had my first kiss with someone else. I lost my virginity to someone else. I did try sushi for the first time with Harrison. I guess that counts.”
“So you two are not getting back together,” he said, nodding.
“We are definitely not.”
“So my position as father of the triplets still stands.”
“That’s correct,” she said even though she wanted to tell him no, it most certainly did not. This was nuts. He was going to be their father in between semi-dates and short-term relationships until the real thing came along for her?
“I’d like to spend some time with them after work, if that’s all right,” he said. “I have presents for them for their eight-month birthday.”
Her heart pinged. “It’s sweet that you even know that.”
“You only turn eight months once,” he said with a weak smile.
And you find a man like Reed Barelli once in a lifetime, she thought. I had you, then lost you, then didn’t ever really have you, and now there’s nothing. Except his need to do right by the triplets, be for them what he’d never had.
“Time to go, kiddos,” she said, trying to inject some cheer in her voice. “See you later, then,” she said, wondering how she’d handle seeing him under such weird circumstances. Were they friends now?
“I’ll get the door,” he said, heading up the aisle to open it for her. He couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.
Her heart breaking in pieces, she gripped the stroller and headed toward the Pie Diner, knowing she’d never get over Reed Barelli.
“Your grandmother would have loved Norah.”
Reed glanced up at the voice. Annie Potterowski was walking up the chapel aisle toward where he sat in a pew in the last row. He’d been sitting there since Norah had left, twenty minutes or so. He’d married her in this place. And been unmarried to her here. He couldn’t seem to drag himself out.
“Yeah, I think she would have,” Reed said.
Annie sat beside him, tying a knot in the filmy pink scarf around her neck. “Now, Reed, I barely know you. I met you a few times over the years when you came to visit Lydia. So I don’t claim to be an expert on you or anything, but anyone who’s been around as long as I have and marries people for a living knows a thing or two about the human heart. Do you want to know what I think?”
He did, actually. “Let me have it.”
She smiled. “I think you love Norah very much. I think you’re madly in love with her. But this and that happened in your life and so you made her that dumb deal about a partnership marriage.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How’d you know about that?”
“I listen, that’s how. I pick up things. So you think you can avoid love and feeling anything because you were dealt a crappy hand? Pshaw,” she said, adding a snort for good measure. “We’ve all had our share of bad experiences.”
“Annie, I appreciate—”
“I’m not finished. You don’t want to know the upbringing I had. It would keep you up at night feeling sorry for me. But when Abe Potterowski came calling, I looked into that young man’s eyes and heart and soul, and I saw everything I’d missed out on. And so I said yes instead of no when I was scared to death of my feelings for him. And it was the best decision I ever made.”
He took Annie’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I was used to shutting people out,” she continued. “But you have to know when to say yes, Reed. And your grandmother, God bless her sweet soul, only ever wanted you to say yes to the right woman. Don’t let her get away.” Annie stood and patted his shoulder. “Your grandmother liked to come in here and do her thinking. She sat in the back row, too, other end, though.”
With that, Annie headed down the aisle and disappeared into the back room.
Leaving Reed to do some serious soul-searching.