The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Read online

  “Going on six years. I’m hoping to go up for review to become tenured soon, as a matter of fact.” Paul had been lucky to snag an assistant professor’s job after he got his doctorate in US history. Soon, after volunteering for every committee he could, he was asked to be the assistant to the department chair.

  Now, at thirty-seven, with a solid income and a set timeline to become an associate professor, then professor, he was eager to marry Brynne. Be like these guys. Not because his parents had been nagging him to get married since he’d turned twenty-one, but because he’d finally found the right woman. Now if he could only convince her of that.

  “So, you’ll be staying here in Utah?” Zack asked.

  “Yes. No change in sight for that. If all goes as planned, I expect to become a tenured history professor at the university.”

  “I guess that means Eva and Lacy will be making a lot of trips up here,” Joe said.

  “Or we could visit you guys,” Paul said, a whole new world suddenly opening in California.

  “That’d be great. Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Same here,” Zack agreed.

  The men grew quiet again, watching Emma guide Noah on how to go down the tall slide. In Joe’s arms, the baby girl named Estrella squealed excitedly. Joe took her to the swings, putting her into an infant seat and giving a gentle push, much to the child’s wide-eyed delight.

  Zack and Paul stood off to the side, observing the activity.

  An earlier passing thought wouldn’t quit nagging, so Paul decided to bring it up. “Is it weird?” He waited for Zack to acknowledge his question. “Being married to Lacy, who looks exactly like Joe’s wife?”

  “I met Lacy before she’d met Eva, so, I fell for her long before anyone knew she had a twin. Or I should say now, a triplet.”

  Paul shook his head, still baffled at the thought. “I’m trying to wrap my brain around that.”

  “Me, too! But to answer your question, yes, it is a little strange. The thing is, you know your woman, and that isn’t the same as her being Eva’s double.” Zack looked at his feet for a second, then quietly chuckled. “They tried to trick Joe and me at the wedding. They’d chosen the same dress. Wouldn’t let us see the dresses before, because, you know, tradition. Anyway, they switched sides before walking down the aisle. Joe and I are like, wait a second, and we both knew. Immediately. I could tell by the way Lacy walks, and Joe said he could tell by the trendy veil Eva wore, and the fact her baby bump was just starting to come out. Lacy’s veil was totally traditional, longer. You know.” Zack shrugged, clearly out of his area of expertise when it came to wedding gowns and veils. “Anyway, we knew, and we changed places as they walked up the aisle. They couldn’t fool us.”

  Reassured, Paul thought about Brynne, how he’d swear he’d know her anywhere, even in the dark. Still, it was strange to realize she was a triplet. “Well, we all have excellent taste in women.”

  “You got that right.”

  Sensing it was easy to talk to Zack, Paul relaxed. “Brynne and I were supposed to be married last March, but Jessica got sick and died the month before. We’ve been stalled out on the rescheduling since.”

  Zack turned to Paul, his green eyes narrowed. “Maybe meeting her happily married sisters will help move things along.”

  Paul laughed lightly. “A guy can hope.”

  His ultimatum, as lame and out of place as it had been, only made things worse, and he’d suddenly found himself un-engaged. Brynne had been as excited as he was in January. They’d talked through their individual reservations. How he wanted to start right off with a new place to live, a place they’d call theirs. How she wasn’t as sold on making babies immediately as he was. She’d made it clear she wanted to keep working once they had kids, but with Jessica’s blessing, they could depend on her for childcare and Brynne had seemed at peace with that. When the unthinkable happened, losing her mother, she’d fallen apart, completely understandable. Now six months later, she was still stalled out on marriage.

  He’d done his best to be supportive until yesterday when he’d thrown down the ultimatum. Which blew up in his face. But he’d had her in his arms all last night, knew he loved her and she’d needed him. She may not have said the words outright, but her body language sure was easy to read. They belonged together. He knew it. How much more time did she need?

  A hard thought occurred. With two sisters appearing out of nowhere, Brynne had the perfect excuse to be distracted the entire time they were here. He had to make sure he was included, if for nothing more than being her backup. If that meant insinuating himself into every aspect of their visit, he would. He was fighting for a future with the woman he loved, and she’d turned out to be a tough sell.

  “Hey, you guys like Italian food?”

  They both gave Paul a “who doesn’t” look.

  “Then you’re officially invited to have a meal at my family’s home. Would Tuesday night be good?”

  “As far as I know, we don’t have any plans. Sure,” Joe said.

  “We’d love to,” Zack said, speaking for Emma and Lacy, too.

  Step one. Accomplished.

  * * *

  Poor Rory didn’t know what hit her when Eva and Brynne walked through the bookstore entrance. She glanced back and forth between them.

  Brynne’s hair was longer than Eva’s, more like Lacy’s, but always braided. Eva’s came just to her shoulders and required hair products.

  “Wait, didn’t you—” Rory pointed to Eva “—just have a baby? How are you looking so perfect?” Her eyes zipped over Eva’s trim waist before noticing her chic lounging clothes, fit for air travel or a Sunday afternoon entertaining by a pool.

  Brynne figured they’d flown first class—she wasn’t sure why, just had a strong hunch. She also needed to rescue Rory—who remained clearly baffled. First, she went around the counter and gave her a big hug. “Rory, that was Lacy. This is Eva.”

  “There’s another sister?” Rory’s incredulous tone made sense to Brynne.

  Was she positive yet that Eva and Lacy were her sisters? The fact they all had the same birthday was a major clue. Their middle names of Taylor were another. Truth was, Brynne didn’t need a DNA test to prove anything. She already knew in her gut she was a triplet who’d been separated from her sisters at birth. The big question was why?

  “Eva, this is Rory, she’s kind of like a second mother to me.” Brynne gave another squeeze to the obviously confused woman, then explained, “Eva and Lacy are from California, and, as you can tell, they both look amazingly like me.” She waited for that information to sink in and watched the color drain from Rory’s cheeks. “Did Mom ever tell you about being a surrogate?”

  Rory sucked in a breath, then stopped outright. She glanced around at the customers milling around the bookstore, her short black bob shining in the fluorescent lighting, her red glasses reflecting it. “Maybe this isn’t the right time or place to have this conversation” was all she said.

  Still, it gave Brynne—and, from the obvious glint in her eyes, Eva as well—hope the truth would soon come out. “Okay, agreed, but since we close early on Sundays, will you have dinner with me, Lacy and Eva at the hospital tonight?”

  Rory nodded slowly. “Yes. Okay. I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not that much.” That didn’t ring true. Rory had been her mother’s closest companion in the world. They’d been roommates for the last ten years. Though they kept separate bedrooms, Brynne suspected how close their relationship might be, but any time she’d had the nerve to bring it up, Mom managed to shut down the conversation. Still, Rory would surely know something about the adoptions.

  “Well, whatever you know, it’s certainly more than I’ve ever known,” Brynne reminded the woman she’d known as a backup mom all these years. If Jessica couldn’t make a track meet, she’d send Rory. If the PTA needed another volunteer, they’d just b
ring Rory along. Rory had been an honorary member of the family for years, then, as though they’d been waiting for Brynne to grow up, Jessica and Rory had taken a trip to France and everything changed. They’d moved in together, and Brynne had her first apartment.

  Unable to hold back the sadness and confusion that swept through her thinking about the past and Mom, and how much to tell her sisters, Brynne needed to clear her throat. And just like that, Eva’s hand found hers, giving a quick supportive grip, then letting go.

  It was strange and comforting at the same time. But Brynne was used to bearing her burdens alone, and other than Paul, she had rarely let anyone in. Her protective barriers were set like invisible glass. Bulletproof glass. Still, she let Eva hold her hand.

  “Jessica trusted me. Swore me to silence.”

  Brynne reached over the counter for Rory’s hand, took it and squeezed. They’d mourned Jessica together, each lifting the other up when one couldn’t go on. During the first days and weeks, Brynne wouldn’t have survived without her support, and there was no doubt how deep Rory’s love for Mom went. Soon, another hand joined in. Brynne glanced at Eva, an outsider, who nodded with reassurance.

  Whatever history was going to come out, the three sisters would have to go through it together. Something they should’ve been doing their entire lives—going through everything together the way they’d started out in the womb—yet...

  Whether Brynne wanted to avoid the whole puzzle or not, she was certain she wouldn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t let her bow out. Not these two who’d been wondering and searching their entire lives. Maybe because Brynne had always had her mom—their mom, too—maybe that was why she wasn’t as eager to put all the pieces together. One thing was clear—whether she wanted to or not, Lacy and Eva were on a mission, and Brynne might have to face things about her mother that would change her good memories forever. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. Plus, it didn’t seem fair, now that Mom was dead, to dig up her past when she couldn’t speak for herself, but there’d be no stopping her sisters.

  Her sisters were realistically complete strangers to her; she hadn’t known them all her life. Part of her wondered why she should get to know them now. What was the point? It wasn’t like they’d be next-door neighbors; they lived in different states. And they would still be mostly strangers. What would be different now that they all knew each other existed? Why start a relationship now?

  Brynne tried to talk herself out of pursuing a personal relationship with her siblings—almost had herself convinced, too. But these strangers, besides looking exactly like her, were both so dang nice, and something else couldn’t be denied—they’d all started out in life together. In very close quarters. How could they be strangers?

  * * *

  Brynne watched Paul as they stood in her small living room later that afternoon. He’d stopped by like he always did to pick her up on Sunday afternoons.

  Though today was different. Very different.

  “I’m sure your parents will understand why I can’t come to dinner.” Sunday dinner at the Capriati home was as routine as the Rusty Nail on Saturdays.

  But that was when they were engaged. Now they weren’t. He’d have to be the one to break the news to them, since he was the one with the family. The big family that he never let her forget about.

  “They’ll probably think I’m making up a whopper of an excuse,” he said, understanding as always, his good nature shining through.

  “Oh, then, wait,” she said, digging out her phone from her hip pocket, finding the selfie of the three Taylor sisters they’d taken earlier, then texting it to him. “Show them that. That’ll shut their mouths.”

  He smiled. “As long as it doesn’t give Dad a heart attack.”

  “Don’t even joke.” The man had had one for each year she and Paul had been dating.

  “Right, but you’ve got to admit, only seeing is believing on this.” He took time to stare deeply into her eyes, which normally thrilled her. But today, the usual sensation fell flat. His were big, beautiful hazel-brown eyes, curtained in thick dark lashes and sloping downward slightly, puppy dog eyes, as Mom used to describe them. They were also called bedroom eyes. Dreamy. Even when he wore glasses, which he was now, they stood out.

  She took them off and tucked them in the pocket of his weekend signature—a light denim button-down shirt.

  As though hit by a case of amnesia, she took the sweet moment and let her gaze linger on his. Then she did what came naturally with Paul. She kissed him, putting her arms around his neck and leaning against his solid chest as she did.

  “We’ve got some time before I have to go,” he whispered over her ear after the kiss.

  She’d let anger rule the day yesterday, and it was never wise to make major decisions while angry. Still, she’d run with that anger, adding self-righteousness into the mix, and broken off their extended engagement. Then she’d barreled into the bookstore, fueled on rage, to discover a baby needed to be delivered. That lightning bolt knocked the fury out of her, and ever since she’d questioned the wisdom of breaking up with the best guy in the world.

  Just now, she’d conveniently forgotten about the breakup and acted like everything was fine, kissing Paul. He’d followed her lead and propositioned her. What could she expect?

  But under the circumstances, with everything that had happened since yesterday, it wasn’t fair to Paul, and it felt all wrong to jump in the sack with him again.

  Especially after discovering a family she’d never known about—yet another thing to keep her off kilter and fumbling for balance. And here he was offering himself as her escape of choice. Again. Nice try, but this time, it wouldn’t work. He was obviously insecure about the invasion of family from nowhere, and taking advantage of her like she’d used him yesterday. Until she figured out what the heck she wanted, whether to be married to Paul or not, she needed to stay strong in her decision.

  “We’re not engaged anymore, remember?”

  Chapter Five

  Brynne arrived first at the hospital early that evening, butterflies annoying her stomach. Why did she have to go through this? Change was never easy, but discovering you had sisters at thirty-two was beyond comprehending.

  She kept her head down and eyes on the floor as she walked toward Lacy’s room, not wanting to engage with people she used to work with, because it was still hard to be here after her mother’s death—and now it was extremely odd, under the circumstances of her sisters popping up. One thing was sure—she didn’t want to explain the unexplainable repeatedly to her work friends. Fortunately, while walking briskly and holding her breath all the way, she made it to the hospital room without a single social encounter.

  When she strolled in, she found Lacy finishing a nursing session. Zack was at her side, complete contentment smoothing the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, creases accentuated by a lifelong tan earned from outdoor construction work.

  “Oh. Don’t want to interrupt anything.”

  Lacy screwed up her face and quickly shook her head. “Not at all. If he wasn’t such a porker, I’d have been done long ago.”

  “He’s got some weight to catch up on,” Zack said, referring to the low birth weight of five and a half pounds.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Lacy offered her baby to Brynne. Overwhelmed by a sense of honor—and it being one of those precious golden moments her mother used to insist occurred throughout life—she accepted.

  Lacy also gave her a cloth diaper. “He’s a spitter. Protect that pretty mauve top.”

  Zack intercepted his son and helped Brynne place him on her shoulder for burping. Having worked L&D, she knew the drill, and after only a few light pats on his back, the kid let go a sound an adult might make. Which made them all laugh.

  “Wow.” Zack was impressed.

  “We’ve decided—well, Zack kindly agreed—that John Chri
stopher sounds better than Christopher John, so my dad, the source of our red hair, gets a namesake and top billing.”

  “So glad you guys worked that out.” Brynne tried to keep the swell of emotion from holding her nephew—and that was certainly who he was—to herself. She didn’t want to feel it, but it was there. She’d been a paid professional for eight years, yet she’d never experienced this sense of awe when she worked the ward.

  As an RN, new life had always been amazing, and it never failed to impress her, but routine was routine, and she’d had duties to perform. The first minutes after delivery were hectic and spent in a rush to clean the newborn, make sure it was warm and breathing, then check the Apgars—on and on went the nurse’s list. She’d never had the luxury of time to simply hold a baby, study it, feel its weight in her arms. In John’s case, the incredible lightness and fragileness. He was so tiny. And this was wonderful. There was no other word for it. Hmm, maybe there was something to motherhood.

  Her chest tightened, and her eyes pricked behind her lids, which was becoming a habit when in the company of this new family. What might it be like to have a baby of her own? What would motherhood look like for her? That stopped her cold. Why did the idea put her on edge? Never had she entertained such a thought before. Sure, Paul was singing the joys of a family, but she’d never visualized it for herself. It’d always seemed his dream, not hers. She’d been a single child with a single mother. Theirs was a quiet life. A life without siblings or men. Aliens, Mom used to joke about men.

  She continued to study the perfection of this baby boy in awe. His tiny nose and lips, the eyes squinted tight under the bright lights, the early signs of a cleft in his chin, like his daddy. The obvious copper hair. Maybe there was something to it. She instinctively bounced the bundle in her arms gently and paced, a rocking sway in her steps. Without a thought, she kissed his tiny forehead.