He opened his mouth and shut it. “Yes.”
“And it’s always going to be this way,” she said, feeling raw to the bone. “You doing your thing, me doing mine?”
“It’s what we agreed,” he pointed out harshly. “It’s what made us work so well all this time.”
He was right, of course. She had said that, numerous times. She’d even believed it, for a time. But now, having lived with him—as his wife—for the past two weeks, she knew better. They were on the cusp of something really and truly wonderful, if only they would allow themselves to become true real-life partners in every conceivable way.
But he didn’t want to do that.
And she couldn’t pretend to be okay with it when she knew there was so much more to be had. If only he’d open his heart.
“Then I’m sorry, Trace,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m sorry for both of us. And most of all I’m sorry for our twins.” Refusing to cry, she stepped past him.
He just looked at her. “What are you saying?”
Her heart hurting in a way she’d never imagined it could, she went upstairs and grabbed the duffel he’d never bothered to fully unpack. “I’m saying what I should have known all along.”
Ignoring the hurt, disbelieving look on his face as he stood behind her, mutely watching, she grabbed the few things that had made it to hangers, and stuffed them inside. She went into the bathroom and added his toiletries, too.
“That it’s not enough for us to be lovers and friends, and husband and wife in name only, not heart. Our children deserve more than that, and so do we.”
He stared at her as she shoved his duffel into his hands. “You’re kicking me out?”
Poppy inhaled a tremulous breath. “Yes, Trace,” she confirmed sadly, going downstairs to get his coat and anything else he might have had. “I am.”
Chapter Sixteen
Wracked with guilt that she couldn’t live up to their original agreement, Poppy agonized over her decision for several days. But in the end, she knew it didn’t matter that she had already taken the twins into her heart and made a place for them in her life. She and Trace had promised Anne Marie that the twins would have a mom and a military dad to love them. They’d even gotten married to facilitate that! They just hadn’t been able to make it work. And now she was alone again. Minus the husband, lover and best friend she had been counting on to see her through her first foray into parenthood.
So, still feeling torn up about what she knew in her heart she had to do, Poppy went to see Anne Marie. In one of the most difficult moments of her life, she explained sadly, “As much as I wish I could go through with the adoption, it wouldn’t be fair to your babies. Not when there are other better options for them.”
Her hand on her swollen belly, Anne Marie listened intently, looking as disappointed—but ultimately accepting—as Poppy felt. “I get it. I’m glad you’re doing the sensible thing. Because you’re right... There is no way you could manage two sets of twins in six months. Well,” she amended wryly, “you probably could. You’re so together.”
Poppy didn’t feel together at the moment. Since she and Trace had called it quits, the reality was she was an emotional mess. Although for the pregnant teen’s sake, she was doing her best to appear both practical and encouraging.
“But I’m cool with the other couple that wanted to adopt them, too.” Her gaze narrowed. “What I don’t understand is why Trace didn’t come to talk to me, too. Did he already go back to the Middle East?”
Poppy felt another pang in her heart. There had been a lot of them the past few days. “No. He’s still in Texas.”
“Then?”
This was even harder. Poppy swallowed. “We’re calling it quits.”
Anne Marie stared. “How come?”
Poppy shook her head; not sure she could explain it even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “It’s complicated.”
“Did he want you to keep all four babies?”
That was the hell of it, she didn’t know. And now, probably never would. Poppy twisted her hands in her lap. “He didn’t weigh in, either way.”
Anne Marie nodded sagely. “Which made you feel like he didn’t care.”
And maybe never would. At least not as much as she needed him to, if they were going to be married the way she wanted to be married.
She blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes. There she went, getting ridiculously emotional again. “How did you get so smart?” she asked hoarsely.
“Group.” Hand to her lower back, Anne Marie got up and walked around the back of the chair. Resting one hand on the top of the upholstered chair, she admitted honestly, “We have to go every day and talk about our feelings and stuff. It’s helped me understand a lot and see things I never would have seen before.” She paused meaningfully. “Like how much you and Trace love each other.”
The crazy thing was Poppy knew they still did care about each other—deeply. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Anne Marie circled the chair and sat again. She leaned toward Poppy urgently. “That’s what I told my dad the last time we saw each other, before he left. See, I was tired of him being deployed, time after time after time. And worse, volunteering for hazardous duty.” She shook her head, in that instant, looking much older than her years. “And I just couldn’t understand that. I always wanted him with me and Mom. But my dad said there were some things that had to be done, and he was the one to do it. His fellow soldiers needed him to be there.”
That sounded achingly familiar. “I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly. She reached over and squeezed Anne Marie’s hand. “I know how that feels, to have to keep saying goodbye time after time.”
Anne Marie nodded. “The point is, the last time I saw my dad before he was killed in that firefight, we had harsh words. I said he didn’t love me, when deep down I knew that he did. And I could tell I really hurt him.” Anne Marie teared up.
It was all Poppy could do to choke back a sob.
“My biggest regret is that we ended it that way. I never got to tell him I was sorry, or that I did love him with all my heart. Don’t make the same mistake with Trace, Poppy. Talk to him before he goes back overseas. Try to work things out. ’Cause he’s a good guy.”
* * *
“I HEARD YOU were bunking out here,” Mitzy Martin told Trace when she caught up with him at the Laramie Air Field. At loose ends since he and Poppy had called it quits, Trace had volunteered to help decorate for the annual McCabe Charter Air Service’s Holiday Open House.
He fastened the garland onto the steel beam overhead then came down from the ladder to get another. “Is everything okay?” With Poppy, her pregnancy, the adoption...
“Poppy went to see Anne Marie this morning, to tell her in person that she was not going to be able to adopt the twins.”
Trace picked up the ladder and settled it to the left. He picked up another garland. “So she decided what she wanted to do.”
Mitzy followed. “Have you?”
“I told her I was leaving the decision up to her,” he said.
“I heard that, too.”
He used a piece of dark green twine to secure the garland, then came back down and moved the ladder yet again. “So then you also know that you can stop giving me a hard time,” he snapped, looking Mitzy in the eye.
Her eyes smiled but not her mouth. “I’m not so sure my work here is done.”
He winced. “I can’t imagine what would be left for you to do.”
“Perhaps nudge you into telling your wife the plans you made before she realized she was pregnant.”
Ah, yes, those, he thought, aware it was all he could do not to groan.
Mitzy stepped closer. “Those are still your plans, aren’t they?”
His gut twi
sted in disappointment. “Yes. Not that it matters.”
The social worker looked at him with perceptive eyes. “I think it might matter enormously—if Poppy knew what you were planning.”
“That’s never been our deal. Our relationship has worked—or at least it did work—because we always let each other go off and do our own thing. No pressure, no judgment, no—”
She gave him a baleful stare. “Commitment?”
“We were committed, to our own lives.”
“Then why keep coming back to each other? For sixteen years, Trace!”
Because, for the life of me, I can’t stay away. And up to the point where Poppy told me to take a hike, I had thought—hoped—that Poppy couldn’t stay away from me, either.
Which just went to show, Trace thought sourly, how much he knew.
Not a whole hell of a lot, as it happened.
Mitzy continued to stare at him then finally put her bag down and sat on one of the leather-and-steel hanger chairs. Realizing she was settling in for the long haul, this time Trace did groan.
“Did you ever think about why I worked so hard to put you and Poppy through the wringer, the way I did, during the amended home study?”
Figuring if this was going to take a while he may as well get comfortable, too, Trace settled across from her. “Because you’re a Type-A social worker?”
Mitzy heaved an exasperated sigh. “I did that because I, and everyone else who knows the two of you, have gotten tired of watching both of you go through life so blindly—”
Trace lifted a warning brow. “Don’t mince words now.”
“—and refuse to admit to yourselves or each other, what we all know to be true.”
“Which is what?” he demanded impatiently, wishing everyone would stop talking in riddles.
“That we only get one chance at life. And that it’s Christmas. The time of giving. Of hope. And renewal. And the rest, Lieutenant, you are smart enough to figure out for yourself.”
* * *
POPPY TOOK ONE last look in the mirror then slipped on her red wool winter coat and scarf. Keys in one hand, she picked up her bag and the small gift-wrapped present, in the other. The doorbell rang just as she reached the front door.
Frowning, because she didn’t want anyone or anything to waylay her from her mission now that she had finally made her up mind, she put on her most unwelcoming expression and opened the door.
Trace stood on the other side of the threshold.
In jeans, starched, blue, button-up shirt, tweed jacket and tie, he was a sight for sore eyes. Or he would have been had things not been so tense between them. His expression, already gut-wrenchingly solemn, turned even more purposeful. The wild hope that he had come to reconcile with her fled; replaced by a tight knot in her throat. And an ache in her heart.
Realizing maybe now wasn’t the right moment, after all, she slipped the present into her pocket, out of sight.
“I can see I caught you at a bad time,” he said gruffly.
“I was just headed out to the party at the airstrip,” she told him. Where she had heard he would be. “Will invited me.”
“Me, too.”
Another thrill. A smidgen of hope. “Then...?”
His eyes were dark and so very intent. “I wanted to talk to you first, rather than meet up there.”
Aware he had a point about that—it would have been awkward, especially with everyone they knew, watching—Poppy nodded and ushered him inside.
The lump in her throat was back, along with a throbbing ache in her heart. Was there any love left between them? Or was she going to have to start from scratch? Though it hardly mattered. She knew her goal. Even as she knew there were certain things they had to get caught up on, too. “I saw Anne Marie today.”
Concern lit his hazel eyes. “How is she?”
“Good. Very pregnant and very understanding.” Briefly, she elaborated.
He nodded, admitting he’d already been apprised of her decision. He then nodded at her midriff. “How have you been feeling?” His gaze caressed her tenderly.
“Fine.” Physically, anyway. Emotionally she was a wreck. Inanely, she continued. “I have my first appointment with the obstetrician on Monday.”
“That’s good.”
“Listen, Trace. I wanted to talk to you, too.” Pretending to feel a lot more self-assured than she was, she took off her coat and folded it over the newel post. Still holding his steady gaze, she swallowed the growing knot of emotion in her throat. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day.”
His expression inscrutable, he closed the distance between them.
She searched his face, still not knowing what lay ahead, almost afraid to wish...
He took her hand. “I’m sorry, too.” He paused again, looking deep into her eyes, his expression raw and filled with the longing she harbored deep inside. “For not being there for you in the way that you needed me to be,” he admitted hoarsely. “Because the truth is, I did have strong feelings on what we should do. Like you, I thought two sets of twins in six months’ time was too much.”
Relief filtered through her. She moved all the way into his arms. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He threaded one hand through her hair, wrapped the other reverently around her waist. “Because we made a deal a long time ago to always be supportive, and never undermine each other’s life decisions.” He hauled in another rough breath. Admitted, “And because I didn’t want to have the kinds of marriages my parents have had—with us always fighting to have things our own way, the end result being that one of us would feel like we got the raw end of the deal. I was afraid if I weighed in on something that important, and my opinion didn’t match yours, that you’d resent me.”
Poppy knew what it took for him to admit that. She splayed her hands across his chest, the rapid beat of his heart matching hers. “Whereas I needed to feel like I wasn’t in this alone, that we were a team. And I should have told you that directly, Trace, instead of expecting you to know intuitively what I was thinking and feeling.” She swallowed. “And I certainly shouldn’t have pressured you to make a decision on the spot, when I couldn’t do so, either.”
“Why weren’t you this honest and open with me the other day?” he challenged softly.
This, Poppy thought, was even harder. “Part of it was sheer hormones.” She flashed a wry smile. “It’s true what they say about pregnancy, the surges do make you feel a little overwrought and emotional. As you might have noticed...”
He grinned back. “I think I have.”
Poppy sobered. “The rest was more complex and goes back to the time when we first met. I know how much you loathed being trapped in a domestic situation not of your own making, the way you constantly were when you were a kid, with families that never should have been formed in the first place. I promised myself that I would never hurt you that way.”
“Which is why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant the first time around,” he surmised.
Poppy’s voice broke. “I think I knew even then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
“Because you didn’t think I felt the same way.”
She nodded, the ache in her heart receding even as the lump in her throat grew. “I convinced myself it didn’t matter. That we didn’t need to have everything everyone else had to be happy. When just being with you made me feel so good.”
Emotion glimmered in his eyes. “For me, too,” he said thickly.
Incredibly aware of the heat and strength emanating from his tall, powerful body, she teased lightly, “And if it ain’t broke...”
“Why fix it?” he finished, smiling.
She nodded and he sobered once again.
“I haven’t been honest
with you, either, Poppy,” he told her hoarsely, smoothing a hand gently down her spine. “Because I don’t just want you to be my lover and my friend and the mother of my kids. I want you to be my wife, in the traditional time-honored sense. I want to love you—and I do love you with all my heart. And to protect you—”
“Whoa there, fella.” Poppy stopped him, a fingertip pressed against his lips. “Back up.” She stared dazedly into his eyes. “Did you say you love me?”
He nodded, all the affection she had ever hoped to see on his face. “And I have for a very, very long time. Probably since the first time I laid eyes on you when I first came to Laramie.”
Joy bubbled up inside her until she was bursting with happiness. Poppy rose on tiptoe and kissed his lips. “I love you, too,” she whispered tenderly. “So very much.”
They kissed again, even more passionately. “So we’ll stay married?” she reiterated.
Trace nodded seriously. “But under different conditions than we last agreed.”
* * *
AN AWKWARD SILENCE FELL. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t handled that announcement exactly right, Trace thought, studying Poppy’s stricken expression.
She gave a slight nod of her head. “I understand if you want to go back to the Middle East and finish your deployment. Or even sign up for another.” Her slender shoulders squared. “I want you to know I’m prepared to make whatever sacrifices I need to make to be a good, supportive military wife.”
Her unwavering support helped, as always.
But there were things she had to know.
Things, as Mitzy had pointed out, that Poppy needed to be told. “That’s good to know, darlin’,” he told her. “Because I did withdraw my request to be transferred back to the States, and replaced it with another. Which, thanks to the help of my senior officers, was granted earlier today.”
She blinked and he explained. “I didn’t want someone else stepping in to be your Lamaze partner or to be there for the birth of our kids. And I couldn’t wait six months or more to be with you, either. So I resigned my commission with the air force, effective immediately.”
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