The Christmas Triplets

by Tanya Michaels

  “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 com
bination 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—”