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I wanted to solve this case. For Holden, because it would mean increased podcast exposure. For Worth, whose haunted eyes and damaged spirit demanded closure. For the memory of Worth’s parents, who had deserved better. For Rob, who could use a departmental win. And for me. I’d been drifting for months, trying to figure out who I was away from NCIS. I needed this to validate my time in Safe Harbor—
“The prince is coming!” A shriek sounded from the other room, followed by Knox’s easy laughter. Okay, that was a lie. I didn’t need to crack the case for this to be a worthwhile summer, but I did need the victory to cling to while everything with Knox seemed destined to fall apart.
The next message on my phone was a revised bill from the termite service. I’d been back and forth with them ever since the San Francisco trip because the termite damage had been more extensive than Knox originally suspected, and while my savings account could take the hit, the bills on the house were starting to pile up.
And then I nearly dropped the phone.
Monroe. Ginny Davis here, realtor extraordinaire and friend of Rob and Jessica. Rob gave me your number because I have a buyer interested in helping you get out from under your aunt’s house. Cash offer. As-is.
Huh. Well, there was an answer to the mounting bills and what to do with my churning emotions about Knox’s decision to stay and my realization earlier that I couldn’t fight or fault him. I could escape to the city that much faster, get a move onto the next phase of my life, move on from cases I couldn’t solve and hearts I couldn’t win.
“They’re gonna kiss to turn him back into a prince! Hide your eyes!” One of the girls squealed, and Knox played up his own horror in response, and for a second, only a second, I wished I didn’t know how magical and transformative his kisses could be.
“Everything okay?” he called out to me.
“Yep.” I hustled out with the bowl of popcorn that had been ready ten minutes prior. Coward. I was afraid of three little girls, their intoxicating big brother, and my inevitable future without any of them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Knox
Monroe wasn’t going to win any acting awards. That much was certain. He’d been unhappy and frustrated back at the house with my counteroffer for our future, and his mood hadn’t improved during childcare duty for the triplets. He said everything was fine, but the dude had seriously taken half an hour to make a five-minute bag of popcorn.
But it wasn’t like we could have the giant state-of-the-relationship talk we needed with the overtired triplets present. I’d let Monroe sit too damn far away from me on the couch and have his pretending. For now.
“Any news from the hospital?” He glanced at my silent phone on the coffee table as the movie ended.
“Not yet. I’m sure no news is good news.” My voice came out too bright, and Poppy immediately picked up on my fake cheer.
“I’m not going to sleep until Daddy comes home.”
“How about we start with pajamas and a story?” I coaxed all three upstairs and into cartoon pajamas, but as soon as their teeth were brushed, they were running through the halls and doing everything other than getting in their beds.
“We’re still not sleepy!” Poppy led the chant. “No bed!”
“Let’s try something else.” I herded them back into the TV room. “Do you remember when we played campout?”
“Yes!” The triplets started dancing around.
“I’ll set up the tent in here, and you go get your sleeping bags and pillows while Monroe chooses a story.”
“Brilliant idea.” Monroe nodded as he helped me set up the indoor play tent the girls adored. “This should contain them.”
“They’re not hamsters.” I laughed at how seriously he was taking this whole kid-wrangling thing. “But yes, this way, they can giggle and go to sleep, and we can watch something G-rated on low rather than escorting them back to their room a dozen times.”
“Smart.” His mouth twisted. “And you volunteered me for the story? What sort of book am I supposed to pick?”
I gestured at the overflowing kids’ bookshelf in the corner. “Something short and funny with no scary parts.”
“All right.” Shoulders set like he was headed into battle, he considered several books while the girls piled into the tent. I knew he’d found a good one when his eyes went wide with quiet delight. He tried to hand it to me, but I shook my head.
“Your turn. You read.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath as the girls crowded around us on the sofa. “This is the story of—”
“The two daddy bunnies,” Lily crowed.
“And the baby bunnies! And their brand-new burrow!” Iris sighed happily as she snuggled into my side. The book was one of several in a series featuring diverse families. Jessica had done an excellent job of ensuring their extensive picture book collection contained a lot of positive representation.
