Just hours before I was supposed to announce my engagement, four little boys walked into the restaurant bathroom. Five minutes later, I was standing there staring at four nearly identical versions of myself, suddenly realizing that someone had hidden a secret powerful enough to tear apart the future everyone had planned for me.
That afternoon, every detail had already been arranged.
My black suit had been custom-tailored in San Francisco. My grandfather’s cuff links shone beneath the perfectly pressed white sleeves. Inside my pocket was an engagement ring selected with my mother’s approval, along with the approval of my attorneys and almost everyone else in my life except me.
By seven that evening, I was supposed to propose to Genevieve Ashford at my family’s estate overlooking the bay in San Diego.
It wasn’t love.
It was a business arrangement disguised with a diamond.
Then I walked into the men’s bathroom.
Four young boys wearing identical navy uniforms were standing at the sinks. None of them looked older than six.
At first, I barely paid attention to them.
Then one of the boys pushed his damp hair away from his forehead.
The other three immediately did the same.
My heart nearly stopped.
Their fingers moved from their foreheads toward the crowns of their heads. Each gave the same tiny shake before lifting his left hand to touch the back of his neck.
I had been doing that for as long as I could remember.
My father used to tease me about it, saying, “That’s how you can tell when a Farrington man is nervous.”
One of the boys noticed me watching them through the mirror.
“Mister, why are you doing what we’re doing?”
“I’m not.”
All five of us stared at our reflections.
The same gray-blue eyes.
The same sharply defined chin.
The same tiny dimple in the left cheek.
“I’ve done that my whole life,” I murmured.
The boys smiled at me.
“So have we.”
The most confident one stepped forward and offered me his hand.
“I’m Cormac. That’s Callan, Connor, and Cillian. We’re quadruplets.”
My mouth suddenly felt completely dry.
“Where is your mother?”
“She works here,” Cormac answered. “But she’s arguing with the manager because we don’t have anywhere to sleep.”
I followed the boys back into the restaurant.
That was when I saw her.
Kelsey was standing there in a black server’s apron while the restaurant manager spoke to her with obvious irritation.
“Employees aren’t allowed to sleep in the storage room.”
“My boys just need somewhere safe until morning,” she pleaded.
“That isn’t my problem.”
Then Kelsey lifted her head.
Everything around me seemed to stop.
The tiny scar above her eyebrow.
Those unmistakable hazel eyes.
The woman I had once loved more deeply than anyone.
The same woman my mother had told me abandoned me six years ago.
“Kelsey…”
Panic immediately spread across her face.
“Boys, come with me.”
Outside, the February wind cut straight through us. Two battered duffel bags were sitting beside the children.
I held out the key card to my empty Miami penthouse.
“No questions tonight,” I told her. “Just take them somewhere warm.”
She refused.
Then Cormac quietly whispered, “Mom, I’m tired.”
At last, Kelsey took the key card.
Before she climbed into my SUV, she turned back toward me.
“You don’t get to vanish for six years and then suddenly decide you’re their father.”
Her words struck harder than I expected.
I looked toward the four boys sitting inside the vehicle.
“I’m not deciding anything,” I said quietly. “I’m trying to figure out why they have my face.”
At 4:18, I called my assistant.
“Cancel tonight.”
“Your engagement announcement?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother is already greeting the guests.”
“I don’t care.”
I ended the call.
I still didn’t know whether those four boys were actually mine.
But I knew one thing.
I would not marry another woman until I discovered why Kelsey had disappeared, and who had convinced me that she had willingly walked away from me.
