Lone Star Twins. Cathy Thacker Gillen

everything else,” her mother said. “Down to the flowers, venue and dress!”

      “And anything else you might want or need,” her dad finished quietly.

      Aware she actually felt a little dizzy, Poppy had to sit. She rubbed at an imaginary spot on the knee of her jeans, wondering how her life had gotten so far out of her control so fast. Especially when she had worked so hard not to let events overtake her, not ever again.

      Inhaling slowly, she lifted her chin. “I know you all want to give me a beautiful wedding, and I truly appreciate it, but don’t you think that’s all a little over the top since the groom in question won’t actually be here? Except to watch via Skype—”

      Trace, who never made a promise he couldn’t keep, cut in. “I may not actually even be able to do that.”

      Her father frowned, knowing, as did the rest of them, that military orders could change on a moment’s notice.

      Lacey moved to stand beside her husband. Her arm curved over Jackson’s bicep as she studied Trace’s image on the screen. “What about your family?”

      This time Trace did grimace, Poppy noted, glad to see she wasn’t the only one who felt events had spiraled completely out of control.

      He squinted. “I haven’t told them yet but I imagine my parents will both want to come.” He paused, reluctantly adding, “My mom and dad will likely want to be seated well apart from each other, though.”

      Poppy groaned inwardly. It didn’t matter what the situation, Trace’s parents never got along. Never had. Probably never would.

      Jackson seemed to read her mind and again deftly nixed his daughter’s effort to call off this calamity before it happened. “It’s important you both have family there, so whatever we need to do to ensure your folks are comfortable, Trace, will be done.”

      “After all,” Poppy’s mother added, “the two of you are making a lifelong commitment, not just to each other but to the twins you’re planning to adopt. So it’s important you do this right. Or as right as can be, under the circumstances.”

      More excited chatter followed.

      Not sure whether she was going to suffocate or to scream in frustration, Poppy picked up her laptop and headed upstairs. “I need a moment alone with Trace before he signs off.” She ducked into the bedroom she’d had as a teen and shut the door behind her. “Still there?”

      “Oh, yeah.” This time he didn’t bother to hide his exasperation.

      “We should call this ridiculous wedding off now,” Poppy declared, “before it goes any further. And just find a way to elope by proxy instead!”

      Looking ruggedly fit in his desert fatigues, Trace folded his arms across his brawny chest. “You really think that will work—with your family?”

      He had a point. “You’re right. It’s probably best to know what they’re planning rather than be surprised at the courthouse.”

      Trace gave the look that usually preceded him taking her into his arms and holding her until all her troubles eased. “Exactly.”

      She rubbed her temple. “Besides, given how complicated this marriage by proxy is, it’s probably best we have all the help we can muster.” She studied the taut planes of his handsome face. “Have you talked to your commanding officer?”

      “The paperwork from our end is under way.”

      Another silence fell; this one only slightly less tense. He studied her, too, his expression gentling. “You going to be okay?” he asked in that tender-tough tone she loved.

      Poppy thought about the family she had always wanted, the twins just waiting to be born and about to come home to her. “I don’t have any choice,” she told Trace. “I have to be.”

      So she would be. It was as simple—and complicated—as that.

       Chapter Two

      “I can’t tell.” Violet peered at her older sister closely, four days later, as the two of them stood in Poppy’s old bedroom at her parents’ home. “Are you about to cry—or burst into the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’?”

      Poppy grinned at the reference to her favorite Christmas music compilation playing in the background. “How about a little of both?” she quipped as she stepped into the wedding gown her sister held out. The truth was she was incredibly happy about fulfilling her long-held dream of having babies of her own in just a few short weeks. But not so thrilled about being pushed into a marriage neither she nor Trace wanted. What if it ruined what they had? Changed their relationship in a way neither expected?

      “Everything has happened so fast,” she admitted as the heart-pumping finale of the “Messiah” ended and the more bluesy sounds of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began. “It all feels a little surreal.”

      Violet secured the hook at the top of the bodice and then moved around for the full effect. “Well, you look absolutely gorgeous, sis.”

      A little sad Trace wasn’t here to see her in the gown, Poppy moved to the mirror to check out her reflection. “I just wish we’d arranged for the ceremony to be at the courthouse instead of the community chapel.” The downtown venue had been the site of many a McCabe wedding. And, unlike hers, the marriages embarked upon in the century-old building, had been hopelessly romantic, incredibly satisfying and long lasting!

      Violet studied her sister with a physician’s caring intuition. “Are you also wishing Trace was going to be here—in person—instead of just watching someone else stand in for him?”

      Yes, and no, Poppy thought, pausing to pin on her tiara and veil. Having him here beside her would make it feel as if they were entering into a traditional union instead of the modern arrangement they had agreed upon. So she was glad, in that sense, her best friend in all the world was thousands of miles away.

      But not having Trace here depressed her on a soul-deep level, as well, since she always missed him when they weren’t together.

      The twins burst into the room, both looking elegant and beautiful in their silver satin bridesmaid dresses. “When did you say Trace’s buddies were supposed to arrive?” Maggie asked.

      “I’m not sure,” Poppy admitted, trying not to flush. “I haven’t actually been able to contact him for a couple of days.”

      Callie did a double-take. Romantic as ever, she pressed a hand to her heart. “He hasn’t called you?” Or video-chatted or answered her emails. Poppy slipped on her satin pumps, once again feeling like the odd woman out, since not only was she the only non-multiple among the six McCabe daughters, but the only one not gloriously in love with her man, too.

      “He might be out on assignment.” Otherwise, there was no explanation.

      As expected, all five of her sisters exchanged worried glances. Luckily, just then, Jackson McCabe appeared in the door. “I just had a text. The military contingent from the air force is about ten minutes out. So we better get a move on if we want to get to the chapel before they do.”

      “Thanks, Dad.”

      Her sisters chatted excitedly as they all made their way downstairs.

      Poppy, with her voluminous skirt, entered the limo, along with her mother and father. Her sisters and their spouses and children followed in a caravan of pickups and SUVs.

      Thanksgiving had been two days before.

      Yet the downtown streets were already decorated for Christmas. Wreaths with red-velvet ribbons had been strung on every lamppost in town. Twinkling lights and decorations adorned many of the front yards as well as the businesses that lined the major avenues.

      Once again, it seemed to Poppy, time was passing