Page 235 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“I’m not crying,” I say into the pillow.

Luci pats my back. “Of course not.”

“I’m just leaking stress.”

“Very normal.”

“And hormones.”

“Probably three times the normal amount, technically.”

I lift my head enough to glare at her.

She holds up both hands. “Too soon?”

“Yes.”

“Noted.”

Then I drop my face back into the pillow and start crying harder.

Because it is too soon.

It’s all too soon.

Too fast. Too much. Too impossible to hold in one body.

Yesterday morning, I was just Addy Clarke, emotionally messy nanny with a dangerous boss situation, an ex-boyfriend problem, and a gala dress. Now I’m Addy Clarke, pregnant with triplets, living in a penthouse with the father of my babies, who’s also my boss, who’s also grieving his dead wife, and also dealing with possible corporate sabotage by my ex-boyfriend.

That sentence alone should qualify me for a vacation.

Or a small medically supervised breakdown.

Luci stretches out beside me, still in her leggings and oversized sweatshirt, because after dinner and Oliver’s bedtime and the world’s most awkwardly tender conversation with Ethan, she refused to leave me alone.

I pretended to argue.

Not very convincingly.

Now she’s here, leaning against the headboard, one hand resting on my shoulder while I try not to dissolve into the mattress.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

“I know.”

“You can just sleep.”

“I know.”

She pauses. “You keep saying that like you don’t know.”

I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The ceiling is flawless. Of course it is. Even the ceilings in Ethan’s penthouse have their lives together.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper.

Luci goes quiet.

“I can’t keep blowing up my life and running somewhere else with a suitcase and a panic plan. I did it with Bryce. I came here with nothing because I thought I was choosing a future, and then I stayed because I was too embarrassed to go back.” My voice cracks. “And now I might leave again. Just like that. Pregnant, scared, dragging my life behind me like a broken wheelie bag.”