Page 237 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Not yet.”

“That’s ominous.”

“I’m being supportive.”

I laugh weakly, then wipe my face.

Luci shifts closer. “If you want to come back with me, you can. No question. We’ll figure out space. I’ll help you find doctors. We’ll make it work.”

My throat closes.

“But,” she says.

“There it is.”

“But don’t run because you’re scared he might hurt you.”

“I’m already scared.”

“I know. But scared isn’t the same as unsafe.”

I hate that she’s right.

I also hate that everyone around me seems to have become emotionally wise while I was busy getting knocked up by a silver fox aviation billionaire.

Eventually, the tears slow.

Luci keeps talking in a low voice about absolutely nothing important until my breathing evens and my body finally, mercifully, gives up.

I fall asleep with my hand on my stomach and my sister beside me like a guard dog in leggings.

Morning arrives too early and very rudely. I wake to the soft click of a door down the hall. My eyes open. I sit up too fast and immediately regret it.

The room does a slow tilt, my stomach rolling in protest.

“Absolutely not,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my mouth.

Luci is sprawled diagonally across the other half of the bed, dead to the world, one arm over her face.

“Luce,” I whisper.

Nothing.

Of course.

The woman can wake up for emotional terrorism but not household movement.

I slide out of bed carefully, pull on a cardigan over my tank top, and step into the hall.

The penthouse is quiet in that expensive morning way, all soft light and polished surfaces. But near the entry, Ethan is standing in a dark suit, fastening his watch.

He looks up the second I appear.

For one moment, neither of us speaks.

He looks tired.

“You’re leaving,” I say.