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“Oh, one more thing, Allie,” Lila said at the door, with her trademark devilish grin. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Allie asked, eyebrow raised.
Lila put a hand over her heart. “Promise me. Us. Yourself—that you’re not going to change your name. You can’t be Allie Talley. You can’t rhyme.”
Merry let out a snort, then gave Lila a jab in the ribs.
Allie laughed. “Well, if I do change my name and become Allie Talley, at least it’ll make me laugh.”
Merry grabbed a giggling Lila out the door. Leaving Allie to stare at herself in the mirror, wondering what it was going to feel like to be Allie Talley, who that woman was. She had been Allie Stark for the past seven years—five as his wife, two as his widow. But life had a way of throwing monkey wrenches and curveballs and all sorts of shocks and surprises at people. You had to adapt, change the plan to fit the new now.
You’re the new you, a grief counselor had said at the bereavement group she’d attended for a few months. She hadn’t mentioned that to her sisters, that she herself was the “something new” for today; her reason for keeping it to herself had stolen her breath.
Because she’d give anything for her old imperfect life back, a second chance.
But she was “the new her,” so in twenty minutes she was marrying Elliot and becoming Allie Talley.
Allie Talley. She smiled, thinking of Lila, and a small laugh came out of her. She’d been about to make herself cry, but becoming the new her, becoming the rhyme of Allie Talley, had lightened the mood.
Badumpa.
Everything is going to be okay, she told herself. She picked up the locket from where it lay just under the V of her jacket and flicked open the latch. Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. Everything she did, she did for them.
But suddenly all she wanted to do was race out the door after her sisters.
* * *
I’m alive.
I’m not dead.
Scratch that—that’ll be obvious the second she sees you.
I had to fake my death.
I’ve been walking, talking, breathing, living on this earth all this time...
Sunglasses on, Stetson pulled down low, Theo Stark sat in a booth in the truck stop diner just outside the town limits of Wedlock Creek, waiting for a refill of his coffee and practicing in his head what he was going to say to Allie when he finally saw her again.
For the first time in almost two years.
On the drive up from southern Wyoming, he’d replayed what he’d say over and over. But the closer he got to Wedlock Creek, the more none of it sounded right. It was all the truth, of course, but when it came right down to it, his wife believed he was dead. And he wasn’t.
At first, he wouldn’t have to say anything. The fact that he was alive would be obvious.
God.
At just after one forty-five this morning, he’d gotten the call that had finally brought him back to life. The serial killer who’d turned Theo’s world upside down was now dead. The threat was gone.
And Theo could come out of the shadows.
Last year at this time, with the weeks counting down to the holidays, he’d wanted nothing more than to get that call so he could go home for Christmas. He’d been hiding out for months at that point, alive and well on a remote cattle ranch, when everyone believed he was dead. Living under a fake name, keeping to himself, earning just enough to get by and move on if necessary. But the months went on and on until, finally, the call he’d been waiting for had come. He was going home.
The waitress came over with the refill, and Theo ducked his head low, nodding a thank-you. He’d recognized the woman, who used to work in the coffee shop on Main Street. But he couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him and gasping. Since he was supposed to be dead, he figured anyone who did a double take would assume he was just a guy who looked a lot like the Wedlock Creek police sergeant who’d been killed in the line of duty. But he wasn’t taking any chances until he explained himself to Allie.
While the waitress poured, making small talk about the weather, he reached for the Wedlock Creek Chatter the previous customer had left on the table and pretended great interest in flipping through the free weekly newspaper. Anything to keep his head down and conversation to the bare minimum. The waitress left and he breathed a sigh of relief.
He was about to push the newspaper aside when a small boxed notice on the People in the News page caught his eye. His heart started to pound and he read the two-line notice again.
Then again.
Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.
Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.
Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.
No. No, no, no, no.
He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.
Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.
He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—
And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.
Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.
Or fake their deaths.
Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.
So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.
He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.
They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.
“Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.
Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.
Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.
As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.
She was in there.
Allie. His wife.
He sucked in another breath and thought about taking off the sunglasses and the hat, but there were people walking at the other end of the hallway. People he recognized.
The black-and-white utilitarian clock on the wall said it was eleven fifty-six. There was no time to figure out what to say, how to say it.
He knocked.
As the door opened, Allie, beautiful Allie, was smiling and saying something about needing help with a tie.
She’d been expecting her groom, he figured.
But then she saw him and froze and her smile faded.
And she whispered his name.
“Theo.”
Chapter Two (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)
Allie had been freshening her lipstick when someone knocked on the door. She’d glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-six. She’d figured it was Elliot needing help with his tie. He always dressed for their dates in a sports jacket and tie—and the tie was always either crooked or the knot halfway down his shirt. She’d opened the door, expecting to see Elliot’s kind, pale face in the doorway.
But it wasn’t Elliot.
It was a ghost.
Theo. Wearing dark sunglasses and a black Stetson pulled down low. Even so, she recognized him. Knew it was him.
It can’t really be Theo, Allie thought numbly, her head spinning, her knees wobbly. I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating.
“Theo,” she whispered. “Theo.”
He took off the hat and held it against his chest, then pocketed the sunglasses in his black leather jacket.
She gasped at how real he looked. Same thick dark hair, same intense green eyes, same scar along his chiseled jawline. Very tall at six foot two. Muscular, as always. Were ghosts muscular? Of course not.
You’re seeing things, she told herself, staring at him, aware her mouth was hanging open, as she reached out like a crazy person to touch him. He’s not here. He died almost two years ago.
His ghost had come to tell her not to marry Elliot Talley, a man she didn’t love “that way,” she figured. Or his ghost was here to give his blessing. One or the other.
“It’s me,” Theo said, reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face. “Oh, God, Allie. It is so good to see you. I have so much to tell you.”
The contact of his hand on her face was real. He was real.
“It’s so good to see me?” she sputtered. “What?” She shook her head again, sure he wouldn’t still be there. “I was at your funeral. You’re...”
He stepped inside the room and shut the door, then took both her hands and led her over to the two chairs by the mirror. She sat down right before her legs gave out. “I didn’t die that night, Allie. Obviously,” he added in a choked voice as he sat beside her. “But I had to make everyone think I did to protect you.”
She slowly shook her head again, trying to listen as he started saying something about the serial killer he and his team had been after for months. “He threatened—”
A knock on the door interrupted him.
“Um, Allie?” called the voice of Elliot Talley. Her fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry in two minutes. “I need to talk to you.”
She glanced at Theo, who moved against the wall. He put back on the dark sunglasses.
“Allie?” Elliot called out again with another knock. “I really have to talk to you.”
Well, Elliot, she thought as she stood up, legs like rubber, it’s kind of perfect timing, since I have to talk to you, too. Seems marrying you would make me a bigamist. There went her knees again, wobbling around.
She pulled open the door. Now it was Elliot who stood in the doorway, looking pale as the ghost she’d thought Theo was a minute ago. Elliot looked sick, his face a bit contorted in pain, one hand clutching his stomach.
“Allie. Oh, God, Allie. I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Elliot said. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m sorry. One baby, sure. But—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe this is just cold feet and I’ll come to my senses later, but I don’t think so. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then turned and ran down the hall. Allie stared after him openmouthed until he pushed through the door of the town hall.
Well, she thought.
“That him, running through the parking lot?” Theo asked, gesturing out the window.
Allie walked over to the window, more aware of her husband standing beside her, the presence of him, than of her runaway groom, racing to his car in his tan suit. They watched as he got into his car and peeled out.
Allie sank back down onto a chair. She’d been so careful not to sit and wrinkle her outfit. Now she planned to ball this suit up and chuck it. Or give it to Goodwill.
Theo was alive? Theo was alive. Theo was alive.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t process.
“How did you even know to come here?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.
Because he’s been keeping tabs on you, she figured. It was the only thing that made sense. He couldn’t let her get married when she already had a husband—alive and well. So he’d rushed over to stop the wedding.
If anyone has any reason why these two should not be husband and wife, speak now or forever hold your peace.
Then again, did mayors officiating even say that at town hall weddings? She wasn’t sure.
I object! she imagined Theo calling out, rushing in at the last possible second. Turns out I’m not dead!
She was losing her mind. Obviously. Her dead husband, whose funeral she had attended, was sitting right beside her, and she was out of her mind. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think.
Did the entire police department know the truth? Had they been informing him what was going on in her life? Was that why he’d turned up here at the last possible second?
No, she realized suddenly.
No one was keeping tabs on her for him. She knew that with certainty. Because even if he was able to leave her, to stay “buried” for two years, there was no way he would have stayed away if he’d known about the quadruplets. She knew next to nothing about what had led Theo to fake his death, but she knew him.
Oh, God. He didn’t know he was a father. He had no idea.
Her brain was moving a mile a minute—so many questions, assumptions. And then her mind just shut down and filled with static and, inexplicably, the wedding march. She heard it playing over and over. Her brain on overload.
She shook her head again, trying to make some sense of this. Theo was here. Alive.
