Sophie broke into tears. “Aren’t you and Wance gonna get mawwied?” The speech impediment she’d outgrown months ago made a sudden reappearance. “I want Wance to be my daddy.”

“We’re still going to get married,” Lance said. “We just might wait a little while.”

“I don’t see how we can pull a wedding together in a week and a half,” Morgan began. “I haven’t even thought about it. There are about twenty details I’ve let go. Olivia is still in the hospital—”

Gianna cut her off. “She’ll be out in a day or so.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to put it off until you’re feeling better?” Morgan asked.

“Absolutely not!” Gianna slid off her stool. “Where’s my bag?” She found her backpack and brought it to the island. After pulling out her computer, she opened it. “Everything is done. I called the caterer from the hospital and gave them the final head count.”

“You worked on the wedding planning from your hospital bed?” Morgan leaned back, overwhelmed.

“Yep.” Gianna tilted her head. “It was better than staring at the ceiling. I’m all right, Morgan.” She gestured to her chest. “This is just a minor setback. I’m still ten times healthier than when I moved in with you. This disease is my reality, but I won’t let it keep me from living. And that includes going to your wedding.”

The girls surrounded Morgan’s chair.

“You hafta mawwy Wance.” Sophie’s eyes welled with tears.

Ava and Mia nodded.

Morgan and Lance shared a glance. He shrugged. “I want to marry you, and seriously, our lives will always be filled with chaos. If we wait for a quiet moment, it might never happen.”

“I still have the final fitting for my dress.” Morgan reached for her phone to check her calendar.

“It’s on Friday, and you look like you’ve lost weight.” Gianna frowned.

Grandpa passed Morgan the bread basket. “Use butter.”

Warmth filled Morgan. “If you’re sure it won’t be a hardship . . .”

“Since you’ve put me on light duty, I’ll definitely have time to review the final details.” Gianna motioned to her laptop.

“OK, then. I guess we’re getting married next week.” Morgan smiled, joy filling her heart. Lance was right. Chaos was their hobby. Their lives were never going to be settled. But that was OK. She loved the chaos of family life.

The girls cheered and rushed to Lance for hugs. The rest of the evening was blissfully quiet. Morgan and Lance went to bed right after the kids and slept for ten straight hours.

Chapter Forty-Eight

JOHN H ROGERS

CAPT

US ARMY

IRAQ

NOV 14, 1982

JUL 10, 2015

BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER

Well, this is awkward.

A week later, Lance stared at the tombstone of Morgan’s late husband.

Ava and Mia had wanted to visit their father and show him the dresses Morgan had bought them for the wedding. They wore matching blue dresses, shiny black shoes, and mini peacoats. Sophie had dressed in her zombie costume and yellow ladybug rain boots.

Morgan was busy with last-minute wedding preparations. Mac was grading papers, and Stella was tied up with the FBI. During the past week, the bodies of all five of Cliff Franklin’s additional victims had been found. But for Lance, the case was over. Since all he had to do on Saturday was put on his suit and show up on time, he’d volunteered to escort the girls to the cemetery.

Ava was the only one of the three girls who remembered their father. She faced the headstone and smoothed the blue fabric of her poofy dress. “Mommy let me pick the color.”

Mia stood next to her sister, but her attention was on Sophie, who twirled in a circle a few feet away. Her zombie costume was getting more ragged by the day. But she was happy. Mia moved off to spin in circles with her little sister.

Ava stopped fussing with her dress and looked up at Lance. The space between her brows furrowed into the vertical thinking-line she’d inherited from her mother. “Can Daddy really hear me?”

Angling his body so he could keep one eye on the younger girls, Lance crouched next to Ava. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She turned back to the tombstone. “I want to talk to him, but it feels weird. He doesn’t answer.”

Lance carefully considered his response. “Do you remember the funeral?”

Ava’s frown deepened. “A little. Soldiers shot guns. I covered my ears and cried. It was scary.” She shivered.

“I’ll bet it was.” Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Is he even here?” she asked, looking around.

If he told Ava her father was buried under the ground, she’d have nightmares for a week. But she asked to visit her father now and then. At seven, she was just beginning to understand the concept of death. Lance didn’t want to take any comfort away that she received from her visits to the cemetery.

“Do you like coming here?”

She tilted her head, thinking. “Sometimes.”

“Then you should come when you want to, but you can talk to your daddy anytime. You don’t need to be here. Your daddy is wherever you are. He’s always with you.” Lance tapped the center of his own chest. “Right in here.”

“Grandpa said he went to heaven.”

“I’m sure he did.”

What was she really asking? Was he flubbing this?

In the last six months, Lance had learned one good lesson regarding children. They were direct.

“Ava, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Tears filled her eyes. Her lip quivered. “At school, Emily said my daddy would be mad at me because I’m happy I’m going to have you as a new daddy.” She sniffed. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

Emily, Emily, Emily.

Why were kids so mean? How long had Ava been thinking about this?

“Emily is wrong,” Lance said firmly. “Your daddy loves you, and he wants you to be happy. End of story.”

Ava brightened. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Lance nodded.

Ava threw her arms around his neck. Then she skipped off to join her sisters, twirling in circles on the grass.

He faced the headstone again. Now what? Just leaving seemed wrong. If John hadn’t died, Lance knew Morgan would still be married to—and in love with—him. Yet, Lance felt no jealousy toward the man who had once held Morgan’s heart. Wherever John was, he was there without the woman he had loved, something Lance did not even want to imagine.

Lance bowed his head. “I’m sorry you died, John. I love your girls as if they were my own. I love Morgan too much for words, and I promise to take care of all of them. Nothing will be as important for the rest of my life.”

With a lump in his throat the size of a softball, he turned away from the headstone, gathered the girls, and herded them toward the minivan. As he buckled seat belts and car seats, Lance felt as if he’d passed a very important parenthood test.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Morgan walked onto the sand at Scarlet Beach. Her grandfather’s arm was looped through hers. In his other hand, he held his cane. He stubbornly refused to lean any weight on her. In front of them, rows of folding chairs faced the lake. The afternoon sun shimmered on the water.