Page 13 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

My heart beats faster whenever one of the brothers looks my way. It stops altogether when all three set their sights on me. Whatever this thing is between us, it’s growing fast and getting hotter with each passing minute.

The air thickens between us whenever we are close to one another. I do my best to stay focused on Maisie, eager to give her the best museum experience available. Archer’s earlier suggestion of a guided tour sounds great, and we hire a guide for the children’s exhibit, the triplets and Trevor eagerly joining us.

“On this side, we have one of the first computers ever built,” the perky tour guide says at one point.

The machine is huge, a cluster of grey boxes and screens, complete with a keyboard and a multitude of knobs and buttons scattered across the front panel. By the looks of it, this thing was built sometime in the 1980s, but it’s quite fascinating to look at.

“Wow, Maisie, imagine that this computer is an ancestor of my smartphone,” I tell my daughter.

The tour guide giggles. “That’s right. The computer chips that once powered this big, beautiful system laid the groundwork for the chips they use in smartphones today.”

“What year is this from?” I ask.

“Nineteen eighty-two,” the tour guide replies.

“It’s old,” Maisie replies. “Older than you, Mommy.”

“Older than most of us,” Archer chuckles.

Trevor is speechless, his lips slightly parted as he gazes upon the front panel. The dance of colored lights and the green strings of numbers and letters darting over the screen have him positively mesmerized. And he’s not alone, either. Slowly, Maisie moves closer, and they both spend a couple of minutes simply looking at it.

Trevor seems to forget his surroundings as he examines the machine, the world falling away. He is in his purest, sweetest form, and I can see it. The light in his eyes is still burning brightly despite the tragedy that caused him to be in Archer, Reed, and Maddox’s care.

The tour guide notices, as well, and starts telling the kids about the history behind the computer and what it was used for. That buys us another couple of minutes of perfectly still children.

“This was in the main room at NASA for two different Apollo missions,” the guide says. “And the algorithms used for each mission were based on the originals used for landing on the moon.”

“You meanthemoon landing?” Maisie gasps.

“That’s right!”

Archer leans closer, and his cologne tickles my senses with a playful waltz of musk and lemon blossoms. It suits him. “Would you look at that? Our kids are getting along. Isn’t it great?” he whispers.

“Maisie is friendly by nature,” I reply with a warm smile. “And Trevor is such a sweet boy.”

“I know he might come across as shy—”

“It’s okay. I think I understand him perfectly,” I interject.

He gives me a long, soulful look. “Based on what you told us last night, yeah. I think you understand him better than most people, in fact.”

“There’s a coffee shop just down there,” Reed chimes in. “Do you want something, Dakota?”

“Yeah, I’d love a latte, thank you,” I reply. “With a drizzle of hazelnut, if they have it.”

Reed nods once and swiftly goes away, leaving both Maddox and Archer exchanging irritated glances. Archer mutters, “Maybe I would’ve liked a coffee, too.”

“You’ve entranced him, Dakota,” Maddox tells me, and I am not sure if he’s joking or if he’s irritated. He is incredibly hard to read, and it’s frustrating because I can almost feel our inner fires resonating. I see the stolen glances, the hunger in his eyes. We’re not indifferent to each other. But the problem is, it’s all four of us that aren’t indifferent to each other. “Rest assured, if they don’t have hazelnut syrup in that bar, he will make them find it or goout and buy it before he comes back with your coffee.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I like hazelnut, but not that much.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Archer smiles. “That’s how we do it. We set our minds on something, and it’s game on. No compromises, no shortcuts, nothing. We aim to please.”

“Sounds rather strict,” I say.

“The military will do that to you,” Maddox replies.

“Oh,” I mumble, realizing I may have a little bit of a uniform kink developing in the back of my head.

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