“Collecting what?” I asked, frowning slightly.
“Just a figure of speech,” Callum said smoothly, releasing my hand. He clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “I’ll let you two get back to your guests. Congratulations, Patrick. She’s formidable.”
“I know,” Patrick said, watching his cousin disappear into the crowd with a thoughtful expression.
I looked at Patrick. “What did he mean? Collecting?”
Patrick hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then smiled, pulling me closer. “Just family nonsense. Ignore him. He likes to be dramatic.”
I wasn't entirely convinced, but before I could press him, I looked over at the head table and had to stifle a laugh. My mother had cornered Mrs. Kowalski and was currently trying to read her palm. The General looked like she was debating whether to pull her hand away or organize my mother’s bracelets by color.
Meanwhile, my Dad had cornered Duncan MacLeod again. I could hear snippets of Dad explaining the spiritual benefits of biodynamic farming, while Duncan nodded politely, looking like he desperately wanted another scotch.
After the meal, Patrick stood to make his toast. He looked out over the gathering, his expression one of profound contentment.
“When Shannon passed away,” he began, his voice steady, “I thought that was the end of my story. I focused on my work, on simply getting through each day. I didn’t believe I would ever find joy again.” He looked down at me, his eyes soft. “And then I met Theresa.”
He raised his glass. “To my beautiful wife, and our ten children!”
The guests laughed and applauded, and I felt a rush of courage. Now was the moment.
I stood and took the microphone from Patrick, smiling up at him. “Thank you for that lovely toast, my love.” I turned to address our guests. “I, too, never expected to find love again after losing Marco. But life has a way of surprising you.”
I placed my free hand on my stomach, the gesture deliberate and unmistakable. “And speaking of surprises... Patrick, darling, I hope you’re ready, because there’ll soon be twelve children in this family.”
Patrick’s face went blank with confusion, then dawning realization, followed by pure, undiluted shock.
“Twins,” I confirmed, unable to keep the grin from spreading across my face. “Due in June.”
The tent erupted in cheers and congratulations. I saw my mother throw her hands in the air and shout, “I knew the fertility stone would work!” while Mrs. Kowalski immediately pulled out a notepad, presumably to start rescheduling the entire year.
But I was focused solely on Patrick. He stood frozen for a moment, then let out a whoop of joy that could probably be heard all the way in San Francisco. In two strides he was beside me, lifting me off my feet in a careful embrace.
“Twins?” he repeated, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re having twins?”
I nodded, laughing through my own tears. “Confirmed last week. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Mission accomplished,” he said, setting me gently back on my feet. His hands cradled my face as he kissed me, oblivious tothe cheering crowd around us. “I love you, Theresa McCrae,” he whispered against my lips. “More than I ever thought possible.”
“I love you too,” I whispered back.
As the celebration continued around us, I looked out at our gathered family—and now two more on the way. Twelve kids. It was madness. Beautiful madness.
But looking at Patrick’s face, alight with joy as he celebrated our news with Duncan and his other friends, I knew with absolute certainty that this was where I was meant to be. This was my legacy—not just CarideoTech, though the company was thriving, but this family we had built from the broken pieces of our previous lives.
Scotland, August 1995
“Sean, sweetheart, please don’t put that in your mouth,” I called, hurrying across the great hall of Eidheann Castle to retrieve what appeared to be a centuries-old quill pen from my three-month-old son’s determined grip.
Sean gurgled happily as I scooped him up, his tiny fist still clutching his prize. His twin brother Xander, nestled in Patrick’s arms across the room, watched with curious eyes that seemed to take in everything.
The twins had been born on May 29th, perfect and healthy despite arriving four weeks early. Sean Marco McCrae and Alexander Patrick McCrae had Patrick’s hazel eyes and my dark hair, a natural blend of us both.
“Everything all right?” Patrick asked, crossing the room to join us. He easily balanced Xander in one arm while gently extracting the quill from Sean’s grasp with his free hand.
“Just saving another family heirloom,” I replied, pressing a kiss to Sean’s chubby cheek.
It was August, and we had brought the entire family to Scotland for a month-long stay at Eidheann Castle. The massive stone structure had proven surprisingly accommodating. The kids had spread out across the many bedrooms, formed alliances and exploration parties, and treated the place like the world’s most elaborate playground.
