The little girl didn't know where to look in the showroom of Maitre & Cook. She let go of the big man's hand, wandering across the harlequin floor while breathing in the soft, heady fragrance of the roses in the florist shop. Vivienne hummed to herself, admiring the convenient take-with bouquets and gorgeous fresh flower arrangements. She quirked a ginger brow while spying a plant she'd never seen before. Vivienne curiously stared at the green paddle with short spikes as she reached out to touch it.

Matt hurried to his inquisitive daughter, gently taking her hand. "Honey, you don't wanna touch that."

"What is it?"

"A cactus."

"Oh," she mumbled, fighting the urge to touch the plant.

He crouched to her level, meeting her fascinated eyes. "In Arizona, there are saguaro cactus. They're all over the desert and grow tall."

"Taller than you?"

The big man chuckled. "Taller than me, Vivi. Now, you told me to buy roses for your maman. Aren't you gonna help me pick 'em out?"

Vivienne nodded her head, glancing at him walking away from her. She chewed her lip while she hesitantly touched the cactus. In an instant, she pulled her hand away and stuck her finger in her mouth.

"Honey," he softly called to her, smirking while shaking his head. "Têtue," he remarked as she rushed to him. Matt had asked Kitty to teach him a handful of French words, and he adored the delighted grin his speaking the language brought to Vivienne's face.

"Toi aussi, Maréchal," she retorted with a wink, rubbing her offended finger on the skirt of her dress. Vivienne surveyed the roses and settled on the most vibrant, deep red roses in the shop.

"Those?"

She confirmed with a quick, decisive nod. "Maman will love those. I just know it. Très romantique."

"Pick something for yourself, Vivi." He watched his little girl scamper off to make her selection, marveling at how she'd bounced back from being ill. It had been two weeks since she'd passed out on the porch and unequivocally terrified him. He smiled at the owner of the shop, giving instructions on delivery of the dozen red roses. "Give her a minute or two, Ma'am." Matt was certain Vivienne would come back with a pink rose. He arched a brow as soon as she returned with the small potted cactus in her hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright. Put it on the counter."

Vivienne placed the potted cactus on the counter, pleasantly smiling at the mature brunette with kind eyes.

"Do you know what you have, Mademoiselle?"

"A cactus."

The florist smiled at her. "A prickly pear cactus. Would you like me to tell you how to take care of the cactus?"

"Oui, Madame. How do I?"

"Put it in your windowsill. It needs plenty of sun but only water once or twice a month. The cactus will bloom in late spring or early summer and may be pink or red."

"Merci," she replied, leaning against the retired marshal's thigh while tilting her chin to look at him. Vivienne gave him a closed mouth grin as she stood on her tiptoes, crooking her finger at the older woman, whispering, "The roses are for my Maman. They're special. He loves her."

The florist leaned over the counter, intently listening to the moppet. "Ma très chère, a red rose is the rose of romance and passion. Never doubt the intentions of a man that sends roses rouges," she shared in a sotto voice before straightening while flashing a radiant smile. "You have a blessed mother, and you," the florist focused on Matt, "have a beautiful daughter. The roses will be delivered this afternoon."

"Thank you, Ma'am," the big man blushed as he paid his bill. He walked out of the quaint shop and gazed at his daughter. He was grateful he hadn't gone into the fields for the day. "Vivi, you better keep that cactus away from Luc."

"I will," she chirped, staying close to him on the sidewalk while carefully holding the plant. "Thank you for my prickly pear cactus, Daddy."

The gentle giant nearly tripped over his own feet as his heart wildly fluttered in his chest at what she'd called him. He was the happiest man in New Orleans, and he'd be on top of the world if another redhead would tell him what he wanted to hear.

With a determined look on his olive toned face, Luc sat down on the floor of his sister's room and scooted backwards until he bumped into the storage ottoman at the foot of her bed. He put his palms flat on the pastel rug, pushing with his whole body. The boy grunted with every inch the ottoman moved, occasionally jumping up to check his progress. He grinned as he realized he had it close enough to the tall bookcase. Luc spied what he wanted and climbed onto the ottoman, stretching as far as he could to reach.

Her sapphire eyes widened at the sight of her brother. She was frozen, watching him put his foot on the shelf as he began scaling the shelves. The clatter of her books falling to the floor broke her out of her stunned trance. "Maman!" Vivienne yelled and ran out of her room, screaming for her mother until she reached her room.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

"Luc! Get Luc!"

Kitty trailed after her daughter and stood in the doorway, folding her arms over her chest, quietly watching her clever, mischievous toddler hastily climb. She quickly padded into the room and hooked her hands underneath his armpits. "Henri Luc Galen Broussard," she reprimanded, pulling him off the shelf to place him on the floor. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, lips curling into a keen smirk. "You know what I think you were doing?"

He shrugged his shoulders and put his hand on the shelf, glancing at the potted prickly pear cactus.

"I think you were after Vivi's cactus."

"Non."

"You were!" Vivi piped up, glaring at her little brother. "It's not yours, Luc. It's mine. Daddy bought it for me!"

Kitty stared at her daughter, choking down the emotions rising through her. She gestured for Luc to sit on the bed and took the cactus off the shelf, setting the terracotta pot on the nightstand. "Don't touch it, Luc. Only look at it."

"Maman," Vivienne griped.

"Vivi, there's no harm in him—Luc!" Kitty sighed as he howled from the spines sticking his hand. "Baby, that's why I told you not to touch the cactus," she dropped onto the bed and kissed his head as he examined his hurt palm.

"I don't like cactus," the toddler decided, angrily looking at the plant. "Maman, kiss, s'il vous plaît." He thrust his palm at her.

She smothered a laugh and kissed her son's open palm. "There. All better. Now, young man, no more climbing or being in your sister's room without her permission. Understand?" She lightly popped his bottom as he slipped off the bed. Kitty set her eyes on her daughter, crooking her finger at her. "Daddy bought it for you, huh?"

Vivienne climbed next to her and gently nodded her head. "I want to call him Daddy. Is that okay?"

"Sweetheart," she wrapped her arm around her daughter, softly smiling at her, "if that's what you feel in your cœur, you call him Daddy."

"I do, but…Maman, I don't want to hurt Papa's feelings. I know he's not here and with the angels…"

"Baby, you couldn't hurt his feelings. You always brought him so much joy. I know he'd want to share the joy you brought him with the Marshal. And you know what?" she whispered, holding her daughter closer. "Not many children are lucky enough to have two fathers that love them so very much."

The tall six-year-old ran into the mansion. "Maman! Maman!" Alexandre shouted, running into the sunroom. He grumbled under his breath and took off for the office. He ran up the stairs and rounded the newel post, colliding into his sister as she twirled across the spacious landing.

"What on Earth?" Delia softly rumbled, stepping into the hallway with her hands on her hips, surveying the children. Vivienne was inconsolable while Alexandre profusely apologized. "Miss Vivi," the maid knelt beside the petite redhead and righted her. "You got the wind knocked outta you, but you're alright," she rubbed her back, setting her eyes on Alexandre. "You know better than to run in the house."

"Yes, Ma'am," Alexandre responded with his head down. "I wanted to show Maman something," he explained, grinning at Delia.

Vivienne gripped her brother's shoulders and gasped in surprise. "You lost your tooth!"

"Yeah!" Alexandre beamed, wiggling his other front tooth with his tongue. "It's loose now, too."

The Creole snickered, standing and pulling Vivienne with her. "Alexandre, you need to get clean. You're dirty from the fields." She was proud of him for helping with the planting, but she wasn't thrilled with how he'd tracked dirt all over her clean floors. She hoped the Marshal and Festus were coming through the mudroom instead of the front door.

"But Delia I wanna show her."

"Get cleaned up first," she repeated, arching a brow. "Alexandre Matthieu, go downstairs and wash up."

"Yes, Ma'am," he glumly mumbled.

Vivienne walked alongside her brother down the stairs. "Maman's taking a nap with Luc. Quatre makes her tired. That's what Octavia told me when she was here earlier." Vivienne had peppered the midwife with a million questions. She glanced at Alexandre and noticed him running his tongue in the gap. "Did you lose it in the fields? Did it hurt?" she asked, hopping onto the next step.

"Yeah. It didn't hurt. Just fell out when I was drinkin' water."

"Where is it? I wanna see."

He dug his blue paisley handkerchief out of his pocket, unfolding the material to proudly display his front tooth. "Marshal told me to put it under my pillow."

"I don't want mine to come out," she admitted. "Some older girls are callin' Caoimhe 'snaggletooth'," she socked her brother's shoulder as he chuckled.

"Ow, Vivi!" he rubbed his assaulted shoulder with a scowl on his face.

"Maman said you don't call people names. It's not nice."

"I didn't!"

"But you laughed, and that's just as bad," Vivienne admonished, following him into the downstairs bathroom. She watched him wash his hands. "Alexandre, why don't you call him Daddy?" Her brother had surprised her by not calling the big man that straightaway, especially since he'd accepted him easier than she had months ago.

"I don't know," the boy shrugged his shoulders while he splashed water on his face.

"They're getting married. He's our daddy now," she offered a hand towel to him. "I think Papa would be happy for us. We have two fathers that love us a lot."

His gentle heart had been torn ever since the announcement. Alexandre dried his face and swallowed hard. He heard the giant's baritone voice and the twang of the hillman's accent. "Vivi…I don't want to forget Papa," he confessed in a low voice.

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "You won't. You can call him Daddy without forgetting Papa. I promise."

Kitty stood in front of the dresser and stared at her jewelry box, twisting her rings around her finger as she debated on putting them away for good. She'd moved them to her right hand after Matt had proposed to her under the magnolia tree on a Sunday afternoon. She slowly rubbed her thumb over the gold bands and caught his benevolent blue orbs in the mirror.

He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to the crown of her head while his arms circled around her. "Kitty," he whispered, tenderly rubbing her swollen belly.

"It's harder than I thought it would be…" she softly proclaimed, fighting the tears stinging her sapphire eyes. She'd shed plenty of tears when she'd finally cleared out Henri's closet, but she couldn't bring herself to disturb his belongings in the sitting room. His smoking jacket still hung on the coat stand, and his box of Cuban cigars remained on the coffee table.

"Honey, I won't ask you to stop wearing Henri's rings."

"But Matt…"

"If you want to keep wearing them, go on." He focused his eyes on the ring he'd put on her finger, a simple gold band with a diamond and a pearl surrounded by smaller diamonds. "You know what the jeweler in Baton Rouge told me?"

Kitty shook her auburn head.

"The two different gemstones represent the uniting of two souls."

"Très romantique," she mimicked her six-year-old daughter while turning to face him. Kitty kissed him softly, winding her fingers into his thick hair, groaning as he squeezed her hips.

He regrettably broke his lips from hers and drew in a calming breath. "When do I get to finally make you Mrs. Kitty Dillon?" he grinned. He'd wanted to have a preacher in the courtyard the day he'd asked her, but Doc had talked him out of it, mentioning propriety until he was blue in the face. His brow furrowed as she tensed, abruptly pulling out of his embrace. He followed her onto the balcony, confused by her aloof body language. "What's the matter? You want to marry me…don't you?"

"I do, Matt. I surely do." She pulled her velvet dressing gown around her tighter while tilting her head back to look at the stars. She closed her eyes, anticipating his indignation. "We can get married after the baby's born. I'll speak with Eliza Jane soon. She owns The Daily Picayune."

"Why do we have to put it in the newspaper? It's no one's business if we get married."

"We have to, Matt. It is their business. Have you ever looked at the society page?" Her brow arched at how his cheeks blushed, but she couldn't fathom him being concerned with the Crescent City's social elite. "People will assume the worst if we don't."

He folded his arms over his chest. "The worst?"

"That we just live in sin. We can't do that to the children or the businesses. It's different here, Matt. Eliza Jane will be kind with what she writes. She's a friend. The other newspapers will follow suit." She inwardly groaned at how he rolled his eyes. "Please, try to understand. It has to be done a certain way, and Matt, when we do get married, I'll be Kitty Dillon…but only to you."

"Only to me?" he grunted, thrusting his hands on his hips.

"To New Orleans, I'll be Kathleen Broussard-Dillon. That's just how it has to be."

"It's not how it has to be. You'll be my wife. I want the children to be Dillons, Kitty."

"Matt, they can't be. They're Broussards…and everything that comes with it."

"Two are Dillons."

"An empire has been left for Alexandre and Vivienne. They're Broussards."

"It's not fair, Kitty. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to them. They're not Broussards, and they're not French."

Her temper momentarily flared, but she settled herself as she recalled all the after-breakfast French lessons Vivienne had shared with Henri and how ecstatic her little girl had been to see the lavender fields. Her hand fell to her belly, saddened by how the baby wouldn't share any of those memories with her older sister. Kitty saw no need to remind him that the twins didn't have his name because he wasn't fair to her in the first place.

She drew in a cleansing breath and exhaled slowly, walking to him, placing her hand over his heart. "Matt, they're French in their hearts. I don't think it's in you to destroy all their memories that make them French, especially Vivi. They'll remain Broussards. They have to, Matt. They can have anything and everything they want because of that name. They won't ever know struggle…what it's like to be down to their last twenty dollars. Don't you want that for them?"

Matt chewed the inside of his cheek, bowing his head. He did want the best for his children. He stared at his boots for what seemed like an eternity until he softly cleared his throat, still struggling with the information. "Kitty," he sighed, "why do you have to be Broussard-Dillon?"

"To preserve Henri's legacy until the children can take over. Matt, it's the South. It's not Kansas. There's probably an associate of Henri's somewhere that even right now would take a business decision of Alexandre's over mine," she lifted her finger at his incredulous scoff, "Deep down, you know it's the truth. Matt, I'd go to business dinners with Henri and make suggestions that would be ignored by some of the men in the room. As soon as Henri made the same damn suggestion, it was accepted."

"You have the best business mind I've ever known, Kitty," he complimented.

"Thank you. Henri knew that, too. As long as I'm in this city and carry his name…well, I'll be taken seriously by most. I'm in control of it all until Alexandre's of age. I'm his mother. I'll fight tooth and nail for what's best, and I hope you will, too."

He put his hand over hers, gently squeezing her fingers. "You know I will."

"Matt, I love you. I've loved you most of my adult life. What happens inside our home is what matters the most to me," she declared, smiling as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips to her head. Kitty nestled into his chest, gazing at him through her lashes, comforted to see that he didn't seem as disheartened.

He ran his hand down the length of her auburn tresses, twisting a curl around his finger. "What if…we have another child?"

Her eyes widened as she pulled back, studying his expression. "Another child? Matt, I'm over forty and so are you…you'd want another?"

"I don't know. But if it happens?"

"I suppose we'd fuss over first and middle names, but he or she'd certainly be a Dillon, Cowboy," she cupped his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth before drifting into the suite. Kitty walked to the liquor cart and poured him a generous amount of bourbon while he took his boots off.

He took the tumbler from her and sipped slowly, watching her settle onto the chaise lounge with a grimace on her face. "You alright?"

"Fine," she answered, massaging her fingertips into her ribs. "Quatre's decided to have a late-night party is all. Her kicks pack a punch the bigger she gets." Kitty reclined against the cushions, smiling at him as he curled next to her.

"Golly, she is having a party in there," he smoothed his hand over her belly, delightedly grinning at a strong kick. "Why do we have to wait until after she comes?"

"We have to wait for a couple of reasons. The baby has to be recognized as a Broussard."

"And…"

"My vanity."

"Kitty, your vanity," he groused.

"Yes, my vanity. I was with child on my last wedding day. I wasn't nearly as far along as I am now, but I'd like to not be heavy and swollen when we say I do," she rested her hand on her belly.

"You're beautiful to me, Honey," he placed his hand over hers, leaning in to kiss her softly.

"Well, thank you," she blushed, caressing his cheek while snuggling into him. "Matt, she'll be here before we know it. If we had another, that would be five. Five. I don't know how we're even gonna handle four," Kitty combed her fingers through his hair, affectionately smiling at how amazed he was by every kick and jab.

He glimpsed at her. "We'll handle four just fine."

"We will?" Her brow lifted, wondering where his confidence had come from.

"I had a dream after I decided to stop coming to see the twins, and we had five children," he held up his hand and stretched his long fingers, amused by her dumbfounded face.

"What?"

He nodded his head and studied her eyes, keeping his hand on her belly, slowly making circles with his palm. "Three girls and two boys. I know you don't have a name for Quatre, but I'd like to make a suggestion."

"Alright," she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

"In my dream, our second daughter was Josephine Lillian."

She gasped and stared at him as tears clouded her eyes, murmuring, "Josephine Lillian." She swallowed hard, "Matt, when Luc was about a month old, Henri asked for another baby…telling me he dreamed of four children. A second daughter with my hair and his eyes. He wanted to name her Josephine after his mother. He started calling the baby Quatre because I hadn't chosen a middle name for her. I still haven't…" she trailed off, wiping her eyes. "But he did suggest Lillian for my mother."

Matt sat up, embracing her. "Oh, Honey," he pressed his lips to her temple, rocking her gently. He stroked his fingers through her loose curls while comfortingly rubbing her back.