Page 73 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“You’re not the one getting married,” Maddox says, looking at Reed. “What do you think?”

“I’m fine with Astoria Hills. The food is phenomenal, and their wine cellar is a connoisseur’s wet dream.”

My gaze bounces between the three of them, and I realize I don’t feel the excitement I remember feeling when Keith and I got married. We were nowhere near wealthy at the time, but we were looking forward to every moment. The wedding vows, the party, the guests. It ended up being a small affair, but we still had about fifty guests joining us. We booked the reception hall at John Allen’s French restaurant on 3rd. It cost us a pretty penny, though we both thought it was worth it at the time.

“Callie is coming to the wedding,” I say. “She’ll love Astoria Hills, for sure.”

Instantly, the triplets look at me with a mixture of consternation and indignation.

“I beg your pardon?” Archer is the first to object.

“Sheismy sister.”

“And she was looking to pork me the minute she thought you and I were engaged,” he retorts.

I nod slowly. “She apologized. We talked about a few things. She’s just as hurt as I was regarding our family’s complicated history, and we both agreed that none of it was ever our cross to bear. We’re just trying to build a new dynamic here.”

“She’s a fucking snake in the grass,” Maddox warns me.

“She’s lonely and finally realizing that we’re better off sticking together than we are fighting one another.”

Reed sighs deeply. “Callie wants your inheritance.”

“She knows she’s not going to get it. We’re getting married. There’s no stopping that.”

Judging by the looks on their faces, the brothers aren’t entirely convinced. Truth be told, I reserve a sliver of quiet doubt, as well. But the fact is, the wedding is happening. Maddox, Archer, and Reed are sticking with me on this all the way through to the end.

I’ll walk down the aisle and sign a marriage certificate afterward. I’ll have the Monroe lawyer, Mr. Rawlings, present for the event and the document signing. Callie knows there’s no way to stop this, so she has nothing left to do but to attend the wedding and celebrate with me. She can’t ever know the truth, though.

I should be happier about all this.

So why does my heart feel so heavy?

26

Reed

Ican’t take my mind off the attempted burglary. It’s been quiet ever since, with nothing suspicious going on, but it still irks me. We checked the safes, the drawers, and every place that holds something valuable. Reed was right; the guy didn’t take anything. But the fact that he had the audacity, the fact that he got into our house, makes me wonder what the hell he wanted.

People around here know us. We’re not ostentatious or troublemakers, but they’re all aware of our military history. You don’t break into our house and expect to survive a confrontation if we’re home.

“Did you see Dakota’s bridal gown?” Chelsea asks me.

We’re in the kitchen, watching the kids while Archer and Maddox handle a few business issues. Dakota is working a bar shift, though I’ve made it clear, more than once, that she doesn’t need to work anymore. But Chelsea suggested that I leave her be. An independent woman will always strive to keep herself busy, to better herself, and to prove that she doesn’t need a man to survive. Or, in this case, three men. I get it. It takes a long timeto get used to the good life, especially when you’re accustomed to fighting for every scrap.

“No, I didn’t,” I reply as I load Trevor and Maisie’s plates with my signature chicken lasagna. They love it. “I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Meh, it’s not like it’s a real wedding,” Chelsea scoffs, and I see the hint of sadness in her eyes. “The dress is beautiful, though. She went for a design that really brings out her best features.”

“Trevor, can I have the salt, please?” Maisie asks our boy.

He smiles and gingerly grinds some directly onto her plate. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!”

Chelsea can’t help but giggle, her eyes glassy as she watches the kids interact. “They’re getting along so much better, aren’t they?” she whispers as she comes over to the counter beside me.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t call it a miracle, but it’s a good thing,” I reply. “Maisie does have a way of conquering even the moodiest folks.”

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