Wyoming Christmas Surprise

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He sat down on the floor and let the babies crawl over him, scooping up one and then another and blowing raspberries on their pj-covered bellies. He’d always thought that when people said that their children’s laughter was the best sound in the world it was a cliché, but now he got it. There was no more beautiful sound. Particularly baby giggles.

“Da-da!” Henry said, throwing a foam block at him and laughing.

Theo sucked in a breath. “Did he just call me da-da?”

“Well, to be honest, they call all men ‘da-da’—the mailman, the teenaged checkout bagger at the supermarket, George Futters three doors down, and he’s ninety-two. It’s developmental at this age.”

“Except this time, Henry got it right,” he said, unable to shake what had to be a goofy smile on his face. He picked up Henry and held him out a bit, running a finger down his impossibly soft cheek. “You’re right, Henry. I am da-da. I’m your daddy.”

Allie burst into tears.

“Hey,” he said gently, Henry in one arm while he reached the other out to her. “What’s wrong?”

She wiped under her eyes. “I just never thought I’d hear that. That they’d hear that. Their father saying ‘I’m your daddy.’ Holding them. Being here.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she was smiling at the same time.

He nodded, unable to speak, his chest feeling way too tight to contain his heart.

He picked up Tyler. “I’m your daddy,” he said, kissing the top of his head. Then he did the same with Ethan and Olivia.

“Well, I guess the introductions have been made,” Allie said, grabbing a tissue from the box on a shelf and dabbing at her eyes. “I have to say, Theo, this is going well.”

For once, he’d made her cry in a good way.

But he still heard the so far that she hadn’t added.

But then it was Olivia’s turn to throw a foam block at Henry, which started a round of shrieking, and he watched Allie turn into supermom, gently disciplining Olivia with a “no throwing,” and suddenly Theo was right in the thick of it all, feeling very much like he belonged.

It was only when he’d glance at Allie that he’d feel a distance, a disconnection. Babies were easy. No history. They didn’t talk. You took care of them and loved them and nurtured them and all was well. Allie—his wife—was a whole other story.

But he’d been waiting almost two years for this moment. And he was going to make it work—no matter how hard it was or how long it took.

Chapter Four (#ud0e1c74f-e120-5d91-9db8-81f7cfa49cd7)

A few hours later, Allie was in the kitchen, dropping fresh ravioli into a pot of boiling water. She had some frozen ravioli and tons of easy-to-defrost-and-reheat dishes in the freezer, but tonight felt special and Allie wanted to cook. The quads loved her four-cheese ravioli in a simple butter glaze, and Theo had always loved it, too, but with her grandmother’s amazing garlicky marinara sauce and garlic bread.

She could hear Theo in the family room, talking to the babies. He was finding his way in interacting with them, talking to them, and it made her smile. Ah, Tyler, I see you like screeching at the top of your lungs when one of your siblings dares go after the toy you were aiming for. You could get a job as a screamer in a horror film with that set of lungs. Then: Why yes, Olivia, it’s fine for you to bang that stuffed rattle on my knee. Thank you.

A bit earlier he’d tried reading them a story but had quickly discovered eleven-month-olds didn’t sit quietly for story time. He’d given up on that and crawled around the floor with them, and her heart was about to burst, so she’d excused herself to the kitchen to start dinner.

As if this were the most normal thing, her husband, her children’s father, playing with them in the family room while she cooked. As she gave the ravioli a stir, she pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t all a dream. It wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Her sister Lila.

Well??? We’re dying for info here!

She smiled and texted back: All good. He’s playing with them.

We’re still in shock.

Her, too. Join the club.

See you sometime tomorrow for the deets. Xo

She was draining the pasta when she realized she was still wearing the Irish friendship ring that Elliot had given her when he’d proposed. She put the big pot back on the stove and then took off the ring and put it in the mishmash drawer of menus and rubber bands.

She looked at her left hand. That’s better, she thought, wondering about her wedding rings. Her rings and Theo’s were in her jewelry box upstairs, in the bottom drawer that she never opened. Should she put them back on? Give him back his?

Or should they put them on when they felt more settled?

She had no idea, but dinner was ready, so she tried to put the rings out of her head and headed into the family room. Theo was on his hands and knees, playfully calling out, “I’m gonna get you,” the babies crawling and giggling.

This was all I ever wanted, she thought, watching them. And now I have it. This has to work, she told herself. We will make this work.

Even if he felt like a stranger right now. He wouldn’t always, right? He’d been back in her life for just a couple of hours. She had to give it time.

We will earn back those rings.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “You grab two, I’ll grab two?” she suggested.

She said it like she said it every day. She could seriously get used to this. Live like this.

“I’m on it,” he said. “Okay, you two,” he said to the babies closest to him. “Time for dinner! Here I come!” They squealed and he scooped one up in each arm, Olivia beaming at him, Ethan grabbing his ear and giggling.

Whose house is this? Whose life is this? Where am I? Afraid she’d burst into ridiculous happy tears, she quickly reached for Henry and Tyler and followed Theo, marching and making fi, fi, fo, fum noises, into the kitchen.

“We certainly weren’t figuring in quadruplets when we bought this place,” he said, trying to maneuver Olivia’s legs into the high chair seat. Not easy with another baby in his other arm. He finally got her settled, then slid Ethan into his seat, giving the harness a click.

With the babies in their high chairs around the kitchen table, cut-up ravioli on their little plates, Allie watched Theo discover the joys of trying to eat dinner with four eleven-month-olds sitting between them.

You do want kids, though, right? she’d asked him on their third date when she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to marry him, that he was the one. He’d been talking about his plans for the future, about making detective, then sergeant, then, hopefully one day, captain.

Someday, he’d said. Right now I honestly can’t imagine.

At twenty-four, that had sounded right to her. She hadn’t been necessarily ready to be a mother at twenty-four, either. And so she’d married the love of her life, the man of her dreams, counting on someday.

Except he couldn’t imagine having children at twenty-nine, either, when their arguments had begun to turn from his dedication to his job to his refusal to give her a timeline for starting a family. The last year of their marriage was a doozy. If he couldn’t agree for them to get pregnant when they were turning thirty, then when? Then never, she’d known.

During their engagement, when she’d told him she wanted to marry in the Wedlock Creek Chapel, but, nudge-nudge-wink-wink, there was that legend about the multiples, so they might have quintuplets next year, he’d said: Does anyone really believe there’s a fertility spell on the chapel? Come on.

Allie believed. Wedlock Creek was chock-full of multiples, of all ages, produced by people who’d gotten married at the century-old chapel. Of course, she knew plenty of couples who’d married at the chapel who had singles or trouble getting pregnant at all. Still, she liked to believe and so she did.

But Theo hadn’t been ready for kids, so Allie dutifully used birth control. And then that crazy night when it had failed her—failed them... She and Theo had been arguing, neither refusing to budge from their points, their “rightness,” and then Theo had shaken his head and said he was sorry and just pulled her into his arms, and they’d both shut up. He just held her and she’d gripped him, wishing things could be different, as she knew he did. And when he kissed her, she kissed him back and he’d made love to her on the couch with tenderness and passion and she felt his love like she hadn’t in months.

She’d conceived the quadruplets that night.

But the next night, he’d forgotten they’d had plans to attend an award ceremony—her sister Merry was receiving a Brewster County Elementary Teacher of the Year Award—and he’d been unreachable, something she hated. He’d come home at 3:00 a.m., full of apologies and a reason she couldn’t fault him for, involving a cop down and a manhunt. And on and on it went, the hurt and stewing, the two leading different lives, their connection breaking up. Those last few weeks, when he’d reach for her, she’d turn away.