Page 77 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

I amble back toward the living room window with Lucy and peel back the blinds to take in the makeshift stage in the middle of the center corral.

“It looks pretty good,” I say, nodding in approval. “I think it’s going to be good today.”

My eyes turn toward the massive, white tent on the side of the barn, and my heart rate skips. In just a few hours, the ranch will be crawling with guests and staff, all here to celebrate a momentous event.

Lucy curls against my chest and closes her eyes, her little heart thumping against mine. The feel of her body against mine awakens something inside me I never knew existed, this fierce, instinctive need to protect and cherish that only parenthood can bring.

I hum softly to lull her to sleep, watching her huge, blue-gray eyes droop.

We’ll never know which one of us really fathered her, nor do we truly care. We only know that we love her more fiercely than we love ourselves and would do anything to keep her safe.

“Want me to put her down?” Owen asks in a low voice.

I shake my head. “Nah. I like holding her when she’s like this. It reminds me that she’s quiet sometimes.”

Owen holds back a laugh. “I should go make sure the other child isn’t putting his bowtie on backward.”

“I’ll go make sure everything’s ready for the guests. They should be arriving soon.”

In the bright October sunshine, I make my way across the ranch, nodding at the staff who beam at me mischievously.

Some of them are still having a bit of trouble with the whole arrangement here—mostly because they don’t understand what the hell is going on.

They’re not clear if one of us is with Emerson, or who the father of the baby is. On some drunken nights, the more brazen idiots think it right to ask, but they’re quickly shut down by the more seasoned staff members.

That’s another reason for today’s ceremony.

But for the most part, we’re met with the respect we deserve because we treat everyone else with the same respect.

Lucy sighs, and I adjust my daughter in my arms.

“Psst!”

I whip my head around as Emerson walks into the room.

“Bring me my baby,” she commands me.

Surprised, I amble toward her as Mae appears, scowling furiously at both of us from behind her.

"It's one thing to break traditional norms with your unique arrangement, but I thought we'd at least follow proper wedding customs," she comments with a sigh.

Emerson takes Lucy, her face brightening with pure joy as she holds her daughter close, like someone finally reunited with their most precious treasure.

“You couldn’t even watch the baby for a couple of hours?” Mae scolds me.

Offended, I raise my hands, but Emerson jumps to my defense.

“He did nothing wrong. I wanted to see her,” she insists.

As she takes a deep inhale of Lucy’s head, I look at her beautiful off-the-shoulder gown.

She takes my breath away, her cheeks flushed and happy, the color spiraling up the curves of her elegant, bare neck.

“You’re not supposed to see her before the ceremony!” Mae barks, catching my look.

“I feel like we might have completely forsaken tradition, Mae,” Emerson tells her tiredly.

Mae rolls her eyes. “What is the point of even having a matron of honor if you’re not going to listen to anything I have to say?”

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