Wyoming Christmas Surprise. Melissa Senate

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