Page 168 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

Because suddenly the idea of him standing comfortably in my dining room while she hides out here crying feels fundamentally unacceptable. “I can send them home.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

Without hesitation.

Because whatever complicated history Bryce and I have, whatever years exist between us, none of it outweighs the look on her face right now.

Addy stares at me, trying to determine whether I mean it.

I hold her gaze steadily.

“I invited him,” I say. “You didn’t. If you want him gone, he goes.”

She says nothing. Then her shoulders loosen slightly. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship.”

That answer alone tells me more about her than almost anything else could. Even now, upset enough to run from the room, she’s worried about damaging something for me. “Addy.”

“No, seriously,” she says quickly. “I mean, tonight is already a disaster, and I’d rather launch myself into traffic than sit through awkward dinner conversation, but I don’t want you throwing people out because of me.”

“Because of you,” I repeat carefully, “or because he treated you badly?”

Her gaze flicks away.

I step closer still, close enough now to see the remnants of tears against her lashes.

“He made you move here without an apartment?” I ask.

Addy grimaces immediately. “Okay, in my defense, I didn’t know there wasn’t actually an apartment. I thought he had it all planned out. A home, a job, a life… I was going to get sorted when I got here. I wasn’t planning on being abandoned.”

Something genuinely dangerous flashes through me then. Because that’s not just careless. That’s reckless. Manipulative. Cruel in a way I’m suddenly struggling not to take personally.

“He lied to you,” I say flatly.

“Yes.”

I look back toward the apartment doors. Toward Bryce. Toward the man I once trusted to build aircraft systems with my company’s future attached to them. I feel something shift uncomfortably beneath old loyalty.

“Ethan.” I drag my attention back to her. “Don’t do the scary quiet thing.”

“What scary quiet thing?”

“The one where you look like you’re mentally calculating how difficult murder would be.”

“I’m not calculating.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

I exhale slowly through my nose.

She studies me for another second before saying, more gently this time, “I’m okay.”

I don’t believe that, but I understand what she’s trying to tell me. She’s embarrassed, overwhelmed, angry. But beneath all of it, she’s trying to regain control over the situation instead of letting Bryce ruin another thing for her.

I can respect that.

“Come on.” I grip her hand tighter. “Let’s go in there as a team so I can kick him out.”