Page 197 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“What if Sara asks me a question?”

“Pretend you didn’t hear her.”

She chuckles. “That feels dangerous.”

“It is.”

She smiles, but it fades quickly.

I watch her profile. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” A pause. “Mostly. I’m nervous, but at least I’m over that sickness bug.”

I take her hand between us, not looking away from the road. Her fingers tighten around mine. Neither of us comments on it.

Lakeview Terrace is already crowded when we arrive.

Photographers line the entrance. Sponsors, executives, engineers, journalists, investors. The aviation world condensed into formalwear, polished shoes, expensive watches, and conversations designed to sound more casual than they are.

Sara intercepts us within thirty seconds. She looks impeccable and mildly murderous, which is her preferred event state. “You’re late.”

“We’re on time.”

“You’re late for my preferred anxiety window.”

Addy brightens. “I respect that.”

Sara looks at her, then at me, then back at her. An assessing look passes across her face. “You look lovely.”

Addy blinks, as though she expected corporate disapproval. “Thank you. You look like you could destroy someone with a seating chart.”

“I have.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Sara’s mouth twitches before she turns back to me. “Board members are already here. Press is controlled for now. Jeffrey is pretending not to hover by the demo team.”

“That sounds unlike him.”

“He said if anyone asks, he’s networking.”

I laugh. “He’s never networked voluntarily in his life.”

“Correct.”

Then she disappears into the crowd.

Addy watches her go. “She’s terrifying.”

“She’ll appreciate the compliment.”

The beginning of the evening proceeds as expected. Handshakes, introductions, and statements delivered with enough warmth to appear human and enough precision to avoid misinterpretation.

Addy surprises me by handling it better than many people born into these rooms. She doesn’t try to become someone else. She smiles when appropriate, listens when people speak, and occasionally says something so dry that the recipient needs a second to determine whether they’ve been insulted.

It's inconveniently attractive.

At one point, an investor asks her whether she has a background in aviation.