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“Probably because he wants you to play with his nuts.”
“You think? He is super-hot.”
“He is. And single.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say another man was super-hot right before you’re about to marry me, princess.”
Seth adjusted his bowtie. “It’s okay, Sage. Everyone knows I’m the better-looking twin. The truth shall set you free.”
“Shut up and get into position,” Oliver said to Seth. “The ceremony is about to start.”
“Ah, the rudeness of a nervous husband-to-be. A flustered Oliver is the most entertaining kind of Oliver.” Seth was positively gloating. “This may be the best day ever.”
Ally elbowed him. “Um, excuse me?”
“After our wedding and the births of our babies, of course, Ally Cat.”
“Uh-huh.”
Oliver stroked a hand down my hair, settling my nerves as he always did with that single gesture. “See you in, oh, two minutes. Love you.”
I leaned up for a quick kiss. “Love you more. Also, you’re totally the hotter twin.”
“There was never any doubt.” He gave me a light shove up the red-carpeted aisle to where I was supposed to wait with my parents for the wedding march to begin.
Unconventional? Yeah, that was us. And I couldn’t have been happier.
I swallowed hard and fumbled for my mother’s and father’s hands as the telltale strains of “The Wonder of You” played in the background, our requested wedding song.
“This is it,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
My mom dashed away a tear. “You ready, sweet pea?”
Tears, who me? Nah, this was the most wonderful day of my life.
“I sure am.” I grinned at Oliver waiting for me at the other end of the aisle. “Let the shenanigans begin.”
Have My Baby
Prologue
Seth
Almost five years ago
The guy in the suit in the mirror wasn’t me. He couldn’t be. I wasn’t ready to pack it all in yet.
I’d only graduated college a couple of years ago. Marriage? A baby on the way? Fuck, middle-aged guys did that stuff. Me? I was still young and fancy free.
But I wasn’t. Not anymore. Not since the morning Marjorie Maplewood had walked into my office at Hamilton Realty, waving around a white stick that didn’t belong to a popsicle.
This kid is yours, Hamilton. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t. What are you going to do about it?
It had never occurred to me that the child wasn’t mine, but I’d probably stared at her for two full minutes before finding my voice. Marj hadn’t appreciated that, and she’d burst into such loud sobs that my loyal assistant, Shelly, ran in from the reception area with a handkerchief, a mint, and plenty of judgment.
An hour later, we’d been engaged and planning a wedding. Okay, maybe two hours.
Now I was facing my reflection in a spotted mirror in a back room at Our Lady of Peace Church, and the ticking minutes might as well have been a time bomb that wouldn’t be kind enough to kill me.
