Page 179 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“There may be another option,” I say.

Sara’s eyes narrow slightly. “May?”

I turn the screen toward them, pulling up the file. “External patch.”

Jeffrey frowns. “From who?”

I don’t answer immediately because the answer is the problem, and I already know it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Addy

I wakeup with the distinct sensation that my stomach has filed a formal complaint against the rest of my body.

This isn't aDear Management, I have several concernssituation.

This is a full riot.

For about three seconds, I lie perfectly still, eyes closed, one hand pressed to my middle, bargaining with the universe like a woman who’s absolutely learned nothing from her own life choices.

Please don’t be real.

Please be punishment for eating half a sleeve of crackers at midnight while processing the fact that my ex-boyfriend is apparently Ethan’s former business partner, because sure, why wouldn’t my life turn into a soap opera?

My stomach rolls hard enough that I freeze.

“Oh, no.”

I bolt upright immediately, which turns out to be a bad decision because the room tilts so violently that my mouth floods with saliva before I even reach the bathroom.

Fantastic. Beautiful.

Too much.

By the time I’m done, I’m sitting on the cold tile floor, forehead resting against the side of the tub, trying to decide whether this is food poisoning, stress, or my body finally realizing it has been operating on spite, sexual tension, and takeout for several weeks.

Probably all three.

“Love this journey for me,” I whisper hoarsely.

The bathroom door creaks. A golden snout appears first. Then Captain pushes his way in like a concerned nurse with boundary issues.

“Oh, good,” I mutter. “An audience.”

He pads over, tail swishing uncertainly, and nudges my knee with his nose.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

He sits down heavily in front of me, head tilted, watching with those big brown eyes that make him look wise, when I know for a fact he tried to eat one of Oliver’s crayons yesterday.

“I said I’m fine.” Captain huffs. “You're not my doctor.” Another huff. “Okay, honestly, your bedside manner needs work.”

He puts one massive paw on my thigh.

That nearly does me in.

It has absolutely nothing to do with fragility.