Page 196 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

Addy stands in the doorway wearing the dark green dress from the shopping trip. I remember choosing it. I remember the way she looked at herself in the mirror, startled by her own reflection, as though beauty was something she had to be convinced belonged to her.

It does.

The satin skims her body with quiet precision, off one shoulder, fitted at the waist, soft over her hips. Her hair falls in loose waves, honey and gold and fire where the light catches it. Her freckles remain visible beneath whatever minimal effort she has made to hide them, which I prefer.

She looks elegant, warm, dangerous, and far too young for the weight my life seems determined to place near her.

“Well?” she asks, lifting her hands slightly. “Do I look like I know what AI flight stabilization means?”

I step toward her. “No.”

Her face falls a fraction.

Then I add, “You look like you don’t need to.”

She blinks. Then narrows her eyes. “That was suspiciously smooth.”

“It was the truth.”

“Worse.”

I stop in front of her, close enough to catch the faint scent of vanilla and citrus. My fingers brush one loose strand of hair back from her shoulder before I can decide not to.

Her breath changes.

So does mine.

“You look beautiful,” I say.

Addy’s expression softens before she covers it with a small roll of her eyes. “Careful. Complimenting the nanny before a public event feels like an HR video waiting to happen.”

“You’re not here as the nanny tonight.”

She stills. “As what, then?”

“Mine,” I say quietly.

Her lips part. For once, she has no immediate response. I take that as a victory.

The drive to Lakeview Terrace Hotel is quieter than it should be.

Addy sits beside me, hands folded in her lap, looking out at the city as it sharpens into evening. Chicago moves in glass and light around us, the skyline cutting cleanly against the darkening sky. The lake catches stray color at its edge, cold and endless.

She adjusts the bracelet on her wrist. She’s nervous.

“You’re doing that too much,” I say.

“What?”

“The bracelet.”

She looks down, then immediately stops touching it. “I'm calm, poised, and fully equipped to discuss aviation with terrifying rich people.”

“You don’t need to discuss aviation.”

“What if someone asks me a question?”

I smirk. “Refer them to Sara.”