had time to clean up since coming off duty before they’d connected.
Poppy sobered. “I can’t speak to the process in the other three states. But under Texas law, a member of the military who is deployed out of the country can request to be married by proxy. Generally, there need to be extenuating circumstances—like the birth of a child or some other reason for urgency—and the ceremony will have to take place here in Texas. We’ll just get someone to stand in for you at the courthouse.”
Physically take my place? Next to Poppy? His jaw tightening, Trace tried not to consider how much that rankled, or why it might. “You’re kidding,” he said gruffly and then paused as he studied her slightly crestfallen expression. “You’re not kidding?”
“This is the only way we’re going to be able to adopt Anne Marie’s babies,” Poppy reminded him. “And you know how long I’ve been on the waiting list.”
Forever, she had often lamented.
A fresh wave of guilt stung Trace. He was part of the reason Poppy had had such trouble getting the family she’d always wanted. Although no one but he and Poppy knew about the specifics, at least in her hometown of Laramie. Mostly because she hadn’t wanted anyone else to know about the tragedy and he’d had no choice but to abide by her wishes.
“Anne Marie is also the only one who’s ever been amenable that we want to raise these children more as friends than anything else. The fact you’re constantly deployed in the military, like her late father, actually gives you a heroic edge in her view. Just as the fact that I was big sister and eventual babysitter to both the twins and the triplets gives me a unique perspective on what a child in that situation might feel or need.”
That was certainly true. Poppy had been through a lot even before they’d hooked up. Mostly because, as the oldest sibling and the only single-birthed child in the Jackson and Lacey McCabe brood, she had often been overlooked in a way that the other girls had not.
Not that she had ever complained about it.
Rather, she’d joked it had given her a freedom and autonomy her other siblings could only envy.
Poppy inhaled deeply. “I mean, what are our chances of ever finding someone else who thinks our situation is ideal for the children she’s relinquishing?” There was a long pause. “We just have to comply with the agency’s requirement and demonstrate our lifelong commitment by getting married.”
Well, put that way...he supposed it didn’t seem too much to ask.
“You’re right,” Trace said finally. “This is our chance.”
Poppy took another deep breath, the action lifting the soft swell of her breasts, and then slowly released it. Steadfastly, she searched his face. “So you’re okay with a marriage by proxy?” she asked.
Trace pushed any lingering reservations he felt aside. This was Poppy they were talking about. A woman who knew her own mind and had more than proved over the years she wouldn’t go all fickle on him, no matter what happened.
He nodded. “It’s not as if a piece of paper or a marriage pretty much in name only is going to change anything between us.”
Poppy smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that always made him want to take her in his arms and hold her close. “Right,” she said.
Wishing he was close enough to hug her, Trace continued. “And if it sets Anne Marie’s mind at ease, so much the better.”
Visibly relaxing, Poppy laid a hand over her heart. “So you’ll do it? You’ll request a marriage by proxy?”
Trace knew he owed Poppy this much—and more. Hoping this would finally balance the scales between them and allow the last of her lingering grief to slide away, he nodded. “Yes, darlin’,” he promised. “I’ll talk to my commanding officer right away.”
* * *
“ABOUT TIME THE two of you decided to tie the knot,” Jackson McCabe said when Poppy stopped by the hospital to inform her parents of their plans.
Her dad had just come out of surgery and her mom was winding up a long day on the pediatrics floor.
“I agree.” Lacey beamed, looking as lovely as ever in her blue scrubs and white doctor’s coat.
As always, feeling a little in awe of her super-successful, still-wildly-in-love parents, Poppy followed them into her father’s private office. She held up a hand. “You both understand that Trace is still going to continue on with his life’s work in the military and I’m still going to be running my design business here. Right?” That was actually a blessing in disguise. There would be no risk of getting too romantically entangled, since they both wouldn’t be under the same roof most of the time.
“You may change your mind about that when the babies actually get here,” her mom predicted.
Her dad nodded. “Little ones have a way of changing even the best-laid plans.”
“Well, not ours,” Poppy said stubbornly.
If there was one thing she loved—and Trace was adamantly against—it was living in the rural Texas town where she’d grown up and he’d moved to briefly as a teen. Luckily, the two of them had attended the same college, where they’d gotten even closer, and had almost everything else in common.
“We’re just doing this because it’s required of us if we want to adopt the twins from the Stork Agency.”
“It’s still cause for celebration!” Lacey picked up the phone with a wink. “And that means family!”
Half an hour later Poppy was ensconced at her parents’ Victorian home in downtown Laramie. Her folks were busy opening champagne and setting out food, picked up from a local restaurant. Trace was once again connected via Skype, as were her San Antonio-based twin sisters and their families. The triplets had arrived with their families, too. And, as always, everyone had an opinion about what would be best for the oldest of the Jackson and Lacey McCabe brood.
“You can’t get married at the courthouse,” her mom said.
Poppy caught Trace’s handsome countenance on the monitor. His expression might be carefully casual, but she could tell by the look in his hazel eyes he was as opposed to all the calamity as she was. What, she wondered with a pang, had she gotten them into? Why hadn’t they just eloped via proxy?
But it was too late now.
The news was out.
“All five of us want to be your bridesmaids. It’s tradition,” the ultra-romantic Callie declared via Skype.
Poppy wished she could lean up against Trace’s muscular six-foot-four frame and take the comfort only he could give. Since that wasn’t an option, she did her best to throw a monkey wrench into the plans. “What about groomsmen, though?” She looked at Trace, expecting him to bail her out.
Instead he shrugged. “I’ve got fellow airmen stationed at the military base nearby I can call on to escort them down the aisle.”
Poppy moved closer to the computer camera and gave him a look she hoped only he could see. To her
