Page 183 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

Sophie looks up from behind the counter and immediately narrows her eyes. “Oh, babe.”

I stop. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”

“You made a face.”

She scoffs. “It was a concerned face. You look like a haunted child who got left outside in the rain.”

I stare at her. “Rude.”

Oliver climbs onto the stool beside me before Sophie can defend herself. “She threw up.”

Betrayal flashes through me instantly. “Oliver.”

Sophie’s eyebrows shoot up.

He looks at me, confused. “You did.”

“Yes, but we don’t announce people’s bathroom crimes in public.”

Sophie presses a hand to her mouth.

I point at her. “Don’t.”

“I’m not laughing.”

I smirk and shake my head. “You're vibrating.”

“I’m experiencing joy internally.”

“Monster.”

She looks at Oliver. “What can I get you, tiny whistleblower?”

He beams. “Blueberry muffin.”

“Excellent choice. And for your emotionally compromised adult?”

“Coffee,” I say. “Large. Aggressive. Something that can legally count as intervention.”

Sophie eyes me. “Maybe tea.”

I gasp. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.”

“You’re pale, nauseous, and look one breeze away from lying down in traffic. I’m not giving you enough espresso to meet God.”

“I don’t like this version of friendship.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ll survive.”

“Unclear.”

She pours me ginger tea. Like I’m someone’s elderly aunt recovering from a carriage ride.

I take it because my stomach gives another threatening little roll and, annoyingly, the smell actually helps.

We settle at a small table near the window while Oliver heads to the toy corner with his muffin and plane, immediately becoming the air traffic controller of three stuffed animals and a wooden truck.