Wyoming Christmas Surprise. Melissa Senate
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again.
Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.
Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.
Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.
No. No, no, no, no.
He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.
Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.
He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—
And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.
Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.
Or fake their deaths.
Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.
So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.
He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.
They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.
“Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.
Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.
Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.
As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.
She was in there.
Allie. His wife.
He sucked in another breath and thought about taking off the sunglasses and the hat, but there were people walking at the other end of the hallway. People he recognized.
The black-and-white utilitarian clock on the wall said it was eleven fifty-six. There was no time to figure out what to say, how to say it.
He knocked.
As the door opened, Allie, beautiful Allie, was smiling and saying something about needing help with a tie.
She’d been expecting her groom, he figured.
But then she saw him and froze and her smile faded.
And she whispered his name.
“Theo.”
Allie had been freshening her lipstick when someone knocked on the door. She’d glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-six. She’d figured it was Elliot needing help with his tie. He always dressed for their dates in a sports jacket and tie—and the tie was always either crooked or the knot halfway down his shirt. She’d opened the door, expecting to see Elliot’s kind, pale face in the doorway.
But it wasn’t Elliot.
It was a ghost.
Theo. Wearing dark sunglasses and a black Stetson pulled down low. Even so, she recognized him. Knew it was him.
It can’t really be Theo, Allie thought numbly, her head spinning, her knees wobbly. I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating.
“Theo,” she whispered. “Theo.”
He took off the hat and held it against his chest, then pocketed the sunglasses in his black leather jacket.
She gasped at how real he looked. Same thick dark hair, same intense green eyes, same scar along his chiseled jawline. Very tall at six foot two. Muscular, as always. Were ghosts muscular? Of course not.
You’re seeing things, she told herself, staring at him, aware her mouth was hanging open, as she reached out like a crazy person to touch him. He’s not here. He died almost two years ago.
His ghost had come to tell her not to marry Elliot Talley, a man she didn’t love “that way,” she figured. Or his ghost was here to give his blessing. One or the other.
“It’s me,” Theo said, reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face. “Oh, God, Allie. It is so good to see you. I have so much to tell you.”
The contact of his hand on her face was real. He was real.
“It’s so good to see me?” she sputtered. “What?” She shook her head again, sure he wouldn’t still be there. “I was at your funeral. You’re...”
He stepped inside the room and shut the door, then took both her hands and led her over to the two chairs by the mirror. She sat down right before her legs gave out. “I didn’t die that night, Allie. Obviously,” he added in a choked voice as he sat beside her. “But I had to make everyone think I did to protect you.”
She slowly shook her head again, trying to listen as he started saying something about the serial killer he and his team had been after for months. “He threatened—”
A knock on the door interrupted him.
“Um, Allie?” called the voice of Elliot Talley. Her fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry in two minutes. “I need to talk to you.”
She glanced at Theo, who moved against the wall. He put back on the dark sunglasses.
“Allie?” Elliot called out again with another knock. “I really have to talk to you.”
Well, Elliot, she thought as she stood up, legs like rubber, it’s kind of perfect timing, since I have to talk to you, too. Seems marrying you would make me a bigamist. There went her knees again, wobbling around.
She pulled open the door. Now it was Elliot who stood in the doorway, looking pale as the ghost she’d thought Theo was a minute ago. Elliot looked sick, his face a bit contorted in pain, one hand clutching his stomach.
“Allie. Oh, God, Allie. I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Elliot said. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m sorry. One baby, sure. But—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe this is just cold feet and I’ll come to my senses later, but I don’t think so. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then turned and ran down the hall. Allie stared after him openmouthed until he pushed through the door of the town hall.
Well, she thought.
“That him, running through the parking lot?” Theo asked, gesturing out the window.
Allie walked over to the window, more aware of her husband standing beside her, the presence of him, than of her runaway groom, racing to his car in his tan suit. They watched as he got into his car and peeled out.
Allie sank back down onto