Page 3

Their noses. One of them had Philip's nose. At least, I thought he did as I looked harder. Then there were the eyes, and the shape of their mouths. Little things. Features that could come from anywhere, really. Families shared traits all the time, even when people weren't related in any obvious way.

But Philip had somehow always been the one to meet the mothers. He'd met Evan's birth mother through the firm, as she'd been an intern. He'd found Matt's mother, allegedly through a work connection yet again. Then he'd heard about Laura's situation from someone else at the firm and brought her story home to me. Every time, the circumstances had been different, but there had always been a mother who couldn't raise her child and a father who was either unknown or whose name she didn't want on the birth certificate.

My stomach tightened.

No. I was being ridiculous, that was all. His firm worked with college students, using them as interns. They practiced family law, so of course they came across a lot of adoptable children, and those adopting them or hoping for help finding someone who was good and honest to raise their baby. Philip loved me and our children dearly. He'd spent years building this life with me, and I'd watched him be a devoted husband and father every single day.

I hated myself for even thinking it. I hated that some tiny, suspicious part of my brain had looked at two children I adored and tried to find some connection that wasn't there. I took a breath and forced my attention elsewhere.

"You know what I haven't shown you?" I said to Philip's aunt. "Pictures from our trip to Disneyland Paris."

Her attention immediately shifted. "Oh, I'd love to see those."

I pulled out my phone and opened the photographs, showing her the boys in front of the castle, Matt wearing the ridiculous ears he'd insisted on buying, Evan trying to look too grown-up for all of it. It had been a wonderful trip, our last one as a family with just us and the boys before their new sister arrived. There were plenty of pictures of Philip, too, in several of them, while in others, he'd been the one holding the phone. In yet others, he'd asked someone else to take the picture so we could all be in some pictures together.

There was one of the four of us in front of the castle, Philip's arm around my shoulders while Evan leaned against me and Matt grinned between us. It was my favourite from that trip, and I'd already gone online and ordered a canvas print to be made for our wall. I looked at it for a long moment.

That was my family. That was my husband. My adoring husband. You only had to look at the picture to see it right there in front of you.

The uneasiness inside me began to loosen. I'd been seeing things that weren't there. The children had similar features because people from similar genetic backgrounds could share all sorts of physical traits. Genetics were complicated. There didn't have to be some secret explanation for every resemblance.

I smiled at the picture and showed it to Philip's aunt.

"That's a good one," she said. "You all look so happy."

"We were."

"Are you thinking about having any more?"

I laughed. "No. I'm pretty sure we're complete." Three children was more than enough to keep us busy, especially with Laura still so tiny.

His aunt nodded thoughtfully. "Then we'd better make the most of dinner tonight. Why don't we call the men and tell them to meet us at the Olive Garden at six-fifteen?"

"That sounds good."

"I made reservations for all of us." She glanced toward Philip's mother, who was returning with the baby books. "I figured that would be alright."

Philip's mother laughed. "Thank you. I completely forgot I'd have to figure out dinner."

"You did say you'd forgotten to thaw the pork shoulder for the roast when you called me at lunch today," his aunt reminded her with a teasing smile.

His mother groaned. "I was busy having a baby granddaughter and two grandsons to fuss over. I had to make sure everything was perfect for them."

Everyone laughed, and I looked down at Laura sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, feeling the last of that foolish suspicion fade away.

3

DARREN

By the time we got home after Christmas, I was happy, exhausted, and more than ready for my own bed.

So were the children.

Evan was half asleep as Philip carried him from the car, his arms wrapped loosely around his father's neck. Matt was no better, his head resting against my shoulder as I carried him toward the house. Laura had woken sometime during the drive and was making small, sleepy noises from her car seat.

"Almost there, sweetheart," I murmured, carrying her inside.

Philip nudged the front door closed behind us with his foot. For a few minutes, the house was filled with the soft chaos of getting three tired children settled. Coats were hung up, shoes kicked off, bags left wherever we'd have to remember to move them in the morning, and the boys were shepherded upstairs with considerably more yawning than protesting.