Page 13 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I open my laptop and pull up the agency. It’s the only one I continue to use, largely because it has failed less often than the others.

The message is concise.

Immediate placement required.

Live-in position.

Long-term preferred.

Experience essential.

I pause before adding one final line.

Must be adaptable.

That has proven, repeatedly, to be the defining factor.

I send it.

Then, after a moment’s consideration, open a second page and begin drafting a direct listing of my own.

I don’t intend to leave this entirely to chance.

Soft footsteps in the hallway interrupt me. “You’re supposed to be asleep, Oliver.”

“I forgot something.”

I look up. Oliver stands in the doorway, holding a small toy plane in both hands. “You didn’t say goodnight to this one.”

I take it from him, turning it over briefly. A small ritual, one that has endured.

“Goodnight,” I say, handing it back.

He watches me. “Mom used to do it too, didn’t she?”

“She did.” He nods, satisfied, and turns to leave. “Oliver.” He pauses. “I’ll take care of this.”

There's no hesitation in his response. “I know you will.”

He disappears down the hallway, and I remain where I am, the pressure of the coming week settling.

I've handled worse, and Iwillhandle this.

CHAPTER THREE

Addy

Cheap motels have a veryspecific smell.

It’s a combination of industrial cleaner, stale air conditioning, old carpet, and bad decisions, which feels a little pointed, considering I'm currently lying on a bedspread with tiny geometric patterns that absolutely have not seen the inside of a washing machine since Obama’s first term.

Maybe that’s unfair.

Maybe it’s only been since his second.

I stare at the ceiling, one arm flung over my face, and try to decide which part of my life is the most insulting right now.

The mystery stain on the curtain.