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Theo knew how much Allie loved her sisters—they were very close. But he also knew Allie and could tell she was exhausted and needed to sit down—lie down—and process everything.
“It’s a long story,” Allie said, “but has to do with the serial killer he’d been after. He had to fake his death to protect me. The psycho is dead now, so Theo was able to come home.”
Her sisters narrowed their eyes at Theo.
He nodded. “I can explain further. Later, I mean,” he added. “Once Allie and I have had a chance to talk.”
“Thanks for watching the babies,” Allie said to her sisters. “I’ll take it from here.” She gave her sisters the look, the one that meant please just go and don’t ask questions; I’ll tell you everything later. They knew that look.
Thanks for watching the babies. His children. His four children. Four precious little beings he’d never met, held, seen. His heart lurched and he turned to brace a hand on the hood of the pickup.
“I’ll get our purses,” Merry said, rushing inside and coming back out a moment later. “The babies are fast asleep at the moment, Allie. They’ve only been down for about ten minutes, so they should nap a good hour and a half.”
Allie thanked them, and the pair left, walking toward town, which was just a few blocks away. Last he knew, the sisters were roommates, sharing a condo right in the middle of Main Street. He could only imagine the conversation they were having right now.
Allie gave him something of a smile-nod and started up the three steps to the porch. The last time Theo had walked into this house, there’d been only the two of them. And he counted as only a half, since he had put only half of himself into his marriage, their home life, those last few months. The rest he’d given to his job.
As he walked in the front door, the familiarity of the place almost did him in. He’d missed this house more than he knew. He’d built a life here with Allie and everything in it was a reminder of who they were at various ages. Twenty-four. Twenty-seven. Twenty-nine.
He walked through the foyer and into the living room. It was exactly the same. Big overstuffed couches. The muted area rug. The white brick fireplace. A big bowl of apples was on the kitchen island, as always; Allie loved apples. Upstairs, the master bedroom, not much bigger than the other one, hadn’t changed, either. The gray-and-white paisley comforter. Allie’s perfume bottles in front of the big round mirror of her dressing table. And on the bedside table—his side—the police procedural novel he’d been reading was still there, right next to the lamp and alarm clock.
The book was still there.
Which told him that, fiancé or not, Allie hadn’t moved on. Not really.
His relief almost buckled his knees.
He turned around, and there she was, right behind him, biting her lip. He glanced down at her left hand. She wasn’t wearing her wedding rings—the ones he’d put on her finger. Instead, a different gold ring was on her ring finger.
Maybe she had moved on. Maybe she just hadn’t gotten around to putting the book on the bookshelf in the living room. Hell, maybe she was reading it. Maybe she slept on that side now. Nearer the door. For convenience.
“The babies are in the spare bedroom?” he asked.
“It’s not the spare room anymore,” she said with something of a smile. “It’s the nursery.”
He nodded. “The nursery.”
Across the hallway he stepped toward the closed door. He put his hand on the doorknob and gently twisted it, pushing the door open and peering in. Low music was playing: a lullaby, he was pretty sure. The room was dark, black-out shades on the two windows. Four white cribs, each with a chalkboard with the baby’s name in colored chalk hanging across the outer bars, were against the walls. He stepped across the big round blue rug of yellow stars and stood in front of one of the cribs. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. Olivia, read the chalkboard. A baby, his daughter, lay sleeping on her back in purple footie pajamas, one hand thrown up by her head in almost a fist. Her lips quirked.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
“That’s Olivia,” Allie said. “On the left is Ethan.”
He moved to the crib on the left and looked in. Ethan lay on his stomach, facing away, but then he turned his head and was now facing Theo. He had Theo’s dark hair, as Olivia did.
“And across the room are Tyler and Henry,” she said.
He moved to Tyler’s crib. He also had dark hair, but there was something in his little face that was all Allie. Henry had the same dark hair, but it was harder to tell whom he looked more like, especially with his eyes closed.
“Four babies,” he said, looking at the cribs, at the tidy room. “How have you done this on your own?”
“Well, this afternoon is a good example of how. I didn’t give them lunch. Geraldine—you remember her from next door?—babysat and fed them lunch while Merry and Lila were at the town hall with me for a bit, then my sisters relieved her and put them down for their nap. Easy-peasy when you have a lot of help.”
“You can’t have help every minute of every day, though,” he 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 with me.”
He turned his attention back to the baby on the pad in front of him. Taking off the diaper was the easy part, as was chucking it in the lidded diaper pail beside the changing table. Ethan kicked up his chubby little legs, making squealing sounds. Theo smiled at him.
“Watch out that he doesn’t pee on you,” Allie said. “Diapers are right inside the top drawer with cornstarch and ointments if he’s chafed.”
Theo’s eyes widened and he grabbed a diaper and the container of cornstarch. He gave the creases of the baby’s legs and his bottom a good sprinkle. Then he slid the diaper under Ethan. It took him a few seconds longer than it should have to figure out where the sticky tabs were folded, but he got the job done. He wriggled Ethan’s legs back into the pajamas, then held him against his chest, relishing the scent of him—baby shampoo, cornstarch, baby.
I’m your father, he said silently to Ethan, staring at him. You’re my son.
“You take Olivia,” Allie said, gesturing at the freshly changed baby girl banging a teething ring against the bars of the crib as she sat and made ba, ba, la noises. “One in each arm. The family room is small, but it’s babyproofed and they can crawl and pull up to their hearts’ content.”
The family room. No such room existed two years ago.
He scooped up his daughter, mesmerized by her thick dark hair and her green eyes—so like his—and her dimple, which was all Allie’s.
“Ba da!” Olivia squealed as Theo cradled her against his left side, Ethan on the other.
“Hey there, little lady,” Theo said. I’m your father, he added to himself. He’d introduce himself to them all downstairs.
He followed Allie to the family room, which used to be a dining room they’d rarely used unless they had company. Now the room was painted a lemon yellow with two murals of zoo animals on the walls. Foam mats with letters and numbers covered the floor and everything in the room had rubber edges. There were Exersaucers, a big playpen, tons of toys and stuffed animals, and a bookcase adhered to the wall, full of little books.
Allie set her two on the mat and so did Theo.
The babies began crawling, and he watched them with wonder. He lost track of who was who, his heart sinking.
“I guess it’s easy for you to tell the three boys apart,” he said. “I forget who was wearing what. Well, I know Ethan is in the green pajamas, now that I think about it.”
“They’re color-coded. Ethan is always in green. Tyler is always in blue. And Henry is always in orange. Lucky Olivia gets whatever color I feel like. I can tell the boys apart, but it’s easier on my sisters and Geraldine or whoever else is helping out if we have a system we can all rely on. This way, no one misses a meal or gets fed twice or doesn’t get a turn at this or that. That kind of thing.”
He looked from Ethan to Tyler to Henry, taking in the colors and studying their faces, their hair, their expressions. “Ah, Tyler has more intense features than Henry. And Ethan has lighter hair than his brothers. Ethan and Tyler have hazel eyes. Henry’s are green like Olivia’s.”
She nodded. “There are lots more differences. They may be quadruplets, but they’re very individual. Olivia loves mashed chickpeas, but her brothers will fling them at the wall if I dare put the smashed beans on their trays. Ethan loves chocolate ice cream, but Henry will only eat vanilla. Tyler is the most adventurous eater. Loves all vegetables, too.”
Theo smiled. “I have a lot to learn about them.” He looked at the four, crawling and playing and pulling up and babbling. “As you said, they’re all so beautiful and healthy and happy. I never want to leave this room.”
Allie laughed. “Oh, give it a good twenty minutes.”
He reached for her hand but felt her hesitation. He had to give her time. He knew that. He couldn’t just waltz right back in.
Maybe we should take a break, he remembered saying just a week before his “death.” He’d come home late, after two in the morning, and Allie had been awake and frantic. He’d been so laser-focused on the McBruin case he’d forgotten to call or text, and he’d completely forgotten they were supposed to go to her good friend’s thirtieth-birthday party on a dinner cruise. She’d been looking forward to that, had bought a new dress. And he’d forgotten it all. They’d had one whopper of an argument that night, everything under the sun had been brought up and flung. She wanted to start a family. He wanted space. She wanted more of him. He wanted to be able to do his job as needed.
Maybe we should take a break...
He’d been shocked he’d said it, not sure if he meant it or not. The hurt in her eyes, the way her face had crumpled had rattled him, floored him, and he hated how he still hadn’t known in that moment if they should take a break or not. He always felt like he had the answers, knew how to handle himself and the world. Except when it came to Allie and their marriage. He’d been floundering, sinking, breaking her heart every day, every night.
Let that go and start with now, he reminded himself. You’re not the same person you were two years ago. Neither is Allie.
