Page 127 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

1. We shouldn't be allowed in enclosed spaces together.

2. His voice should probably be regulated by law.

3. Why is every conversation with that man one sentence away from becoming a problem?

I shove that thought away and focus on Oliver, who's currently using two toy planes to narrate a midair diplomatic incident.

By eleven, I’ve decided fresh air is a necessity, not a luxury. Also caffeine, and possibly one baked good.

“We’re going to the café,” I announce.

Oliver looks up from the floor. “Can I get the cookie with the face?”

“The smiley one?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe.”

He gasps. “That means yes.”

“It means your legal team is very good.”

Captain is at the door before either of us fully moves, because he understands the concept of outings with terrifying emotional intelligence.

“You're not coming into the café,” I tell him.

His entire body sags in betrayal.

“Don’t do that,” I say. “You live here. This is your home. Some of us have jobs.”

He sneezes.

“Great point. Still no.”

In the end, I take him down first for a quick walk because otherwise he’ll spend the next hour staring into my soul through the window like a Victorian orphan. Then Oliver and I head across the road toward Brewed Awakening, the city crisp around us, traffic humming, the wind off the lake doing that rude Chicago thing where it acts like personal space is optional.

The second we step inside, warmth hits.

Coffee, cinnamon, pastry sugar, the low murmur of people pretending to work while actually reading emails they hate. The place is busy but not overwhelming, sunlight warming the brick wall by the windows, the toy corner occupied by two toddlers engaged in what appears to be a silent, mutually agreed territorial dispute.

Sophie spots us almost immediately. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite tiny pilot and the woman trying very hard not to look like she needs a nap.”

I stop at the counter. “First of all, wow. Second, I’m fine.”

She leans on the register and gives me a look. “Mm hm. You feel better after the other night?”

I roll my eyes. “Much, thank you.”

“Well, like I said in my text, you missed out.”

Oliver lifts a hand. “Hi, Sophie.”

Her face softens instantly, all telling me off for skipping out on our night out fades away. “Hi, sweetheart. Still running the city?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Someone should.”