Lone Star Twins. Cathy Thacker Gillen

wished she knew why her moods were so mercurial these days. It was like being on a roller coaster. Over the moon one minute, incredibly sad and weepy the next...

      She brought out the bacon and began layering it in the bottom of a cast-iron skillet. “Is that another way of saying I’ve been frowning too much?”

      “Looking near tears.”

      Poppy retrieved the package of ready-to-bake buttermilk biscuits from her freezer. “I know I’ve been emotional lately.” What she couldn’t say—maybe didn’t really want to know—was why.

      She got out the eggs.

      Seeing the coffee was finished, Trace reached for two mugs. Poppy put up a staying hand. “Maybe later.”

      He settled against the counter, aromatic beverage in hand. “Is it because you’re finally about to adopt twin babies?” He paused. “Or because of what happened years ago?”

      Poppy should have known he would bring that up. He always did, whenever he was worried about her, in this sense.

      And maybe, she thought ruefully, he had a right to be.

      Glad she had him to talk with, Poppy released a weary sigh. “I admit I feel a little jinxed when it comes to me ever having a family.”

      “Because of the baby we lost?”

      God. How was it possible it could still hurt so much? After fourteen years?

      Swallowing a lump in her throat, she concentrated on her task. “I know I was barely through the third month.” She broke eggs into a bowl and tossed the shells into the sink. “But I really thought I would carry that baby to term. And I would have, had it not been an ectopic pregnancy.”

      “Instead, you lost the child and the tube and ovary.”

      That had left her with two-thirds of a working reproductive system. And roughly half the ability to even get pregnant.

      “Even after all that, you know, when I had finally gotten past it and we decided to actively try to conceive, I had hoped it would happen. That we’d be successful.” Have the perfect baby that was half me and half you.

      “Only it never did.”

      “So, can you blame me for being a little worried something might happen?” She hitched in a breath. “Again?”

      Trace took her in his arms. “First of all, I don’t think it will. I think you’re finally going to get everything you want. Even if it is via adoption instead of pregnancy.”

      You’re...going to get what you want...

      He wasn’t talking about himself. Or them, Poppy thought sadly. Just her. But why should that even surprise her? she asked herself. Up until the past few years anyway, it had always been just her thing. Trace had merely been a willing participant and a good friend. A guy who was willing to be “The Dad” in the equation whenever he came home on leave. And how often was that? At most, once or twice a year?

      He studied her expression, remorse tautening the ruggedly handsome features on his face, misunderstanding the reason behind her malaise. “But even if something does go wrong with this adoption—”

      She pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t say that,” she whispered.

      He kissed the back of her hand gently. “I’ll be right there with you, to make sure you get the family you deserve to have.” This time it was his voice that sounded a little rusty. “It’s the least I can do.”

      Guilt. Again.

      Poppy’s spine turned as rigid as her heart. “You’re not responsible for what happened, Trace.”

      “Come on, Poppy.” He stepped aside as she grabbed a whisk and the mixing bowl. “We both know if I hadn’t gotten careless, you never would have become pregnant, never would have lost the baby, and a good portion of your fertility, to boot.”

      She whisked the eggs with a vengeance. “I could have had an ectopic pregnancy anytime. I could still have one in my remaining fallopian tube, if I ever did get pregnant, which we both know now is unlikely to ever happen.”