Page 71 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Oh, I’d love to,” I tell her. “But I’ve got to be up early in the morning. You know, the whole wedding prep thing.”

She gives me a doubtful look. “I thought you said it was going to be a small ceremony.”

“Yeah, but I still need to make sure everything is set. The church, the preacher, the flowers. I have to pick up my dress and Maisie’s flower girl dress. And maybe a dress for you if you’d like?” I say without really thinking.

Callie gasps, genuinely surprised. “You want me to… to be a bridesmaid?”

“Well, yeah. What are sisters for?” I giggle.

She throws her arms around me and hugs me tighter and tighter until it almost cuts off my air supply, but I hold on and welcome the sudden deluge of affection and gratitude. It’s way better than her previous version that spat venom with every other word.

“I’m going to say it again, Dakota, you are way too good for this world. And yes, I would love to be a bridesmaid at your wedding.”

“Awesome. Let me drop you off at your hotel then, and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for the dress fitting?” I ask as I step back and fish the car keys out of my purse.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Once I watch Callie go inside the hotel, I’m ready to head home. It’s been a long day, and I am literally excited to simply crash into bed.

As I drive through the San Francisco night, I let my mind wander. I whiz past luminous storefronts at every turn. The occasional drunk staggers through the city streets—some looking for other venues to drink at while others are searching for cabs to hail.

It’s been a roller coaster these past couple of months. I’m pregnant, and it has come at a difficult time. Everything hangs in the balance all of a sudden. Everything hinges on the next few days, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I should be happy. Excited. And in a certain sense, I am. I just wish Reed had proposed under different circumstances.

At the same time, I am nothing but grateful and relieved that he did because, thanks to him, I’m getting that inheritance. And that means Maisie will be enrolled in Prescott Academy next year. I’ll be able to pay off the mortgage on Grandma Sally’s house. And I’ll have enough wealth to start my own projects and build them from the ground up.

A tightness lingers in the pit of my stomach as I try not to think about how it could still go wrong, horribly wrong. I’m still hiding the fact that I’m pregnant, and the longer I wait to tell them, the angrier they might be. Soon, I tell myself. We just need to get through the wedding first.

Turning one last corner as I cruise through the residential neighborhood, I see the Faulkner house up ahead on the right, rising like a giant in the heart of the night. But it’s not dark nor peaceful. Red and blue lights flash outside, and the closer I get, the clearer it becomes that something happened.

“Oh, no,” I mumble as I pull up close to the driveway, as close as the yellow tape will let me, anyway. “What the hell?”

Looking around, I can see some of the neighbors have come out, and they are as curious as I am. Three squad cars are parked outside, and police officers are checking the entire property, including the front and backyard. They’re taking photos and writing notes, occasionally communicating through their radio systems.

I get out of the car, shaking slightly until I remember that Maisie is still at Chelsea’s house, two neighborhoods over and out of harm’s way. But I still don’t know what happened. I notice that there’s no ambulance or coroner in sight and hope fills me that whatever happened isn’t that bad.

“Excuse me, officer,” I approach one of the cops standing on the sidewalk closest to our front door. “I live here. What happened?”

“Attempted robbery, it seems,” the man says, then looks over at the house.

I follow his gaze, noticing that the lights are on in every room, silhouettes of his colleagues gliding from window to window, and cameras flashing a few times per minute. Archer is the first to come out of the house, his eyes lighting up at the sight of me.

“It’s okay,” he immediately says, eager to reassure me. “Nobody’s hurt. We’re all fine.”

“You can go through,” the first cop tells me and raises the yellow tape for me to pass.

I bolt and run straight into Archer’s arms, losing myself in his body heat for a moment. “What the hell happened?”

“The three of us got home, as usual, around nine,” Archer explains, his brow furrowed as he glances back at the house. “We found the front door cracked open and thought you were already home. We called out and couldn’t find you. Then we saw movement in the kitchen, but by the time we got there, the guy slipped through the back door and jumped over the fence.”

“That’s a tall fence to jump over,” I mumble.

Archer nods in agreement. “Yeah, he was a nimble motherfucker. We didn’t get a good look at him either. We don’t know how he got in or what he took if anything. Reed said the vaults weren’t touched.”

They have two of them, and they’re smartly hidden inside the house. A thief with no knowledge of the Faulkner brothers’ affinity for caution would never find the vaults. “What about silverware or electronics?” I ask.

“Nothing so far. The alarm system was turned off. Manually disabled, but we don’t know how. The security company said the burglar didn’t use one of our codes. It would’ve showed up in their system.”

“Then how did he disable it?”

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