Page 254 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Right, Oliver, go brush your teeth. Put on actual socks. Both feet. Then take Captain to the kitchen.”

After he’s gone, I remain in Addy’s room for one more moment.

The suitcase sits open. It shouldn’t be a threat. It’s fabric and zippers. Luggage. An object. But I’ve seen enough departures to know sometimes grief starts with packing.

I step out and close the door halfway behind me.

Then I go to war.

By seven a.m., three maternal fetal specialists are awake because I made them be.

By eight, the penthouse has a nutritionist, a pregnancy care coordinator, and enough medical equipment to survive a small apocalypse.

By nine, Jeffrey stops asking questions and starts making calls.

Addy thinks she’s leaving.

I intend to prove otherwise.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Addy

By the timeLuci and I get back to the penthouse, I’ve consumed one grilled cheese sandwich, three pickle slices, half a lemonade, and approximately six hundred conflicting emotions.

Triplet pregnancy apparently means your body spins a giant wheel labeled CHAOS every hour and waits to see what happens.

One minute I’m starving enough to consider biting strangers. The next, the smell of roasted almonds nearly made me cry in Millennium Park because they “felt aggressive.”

I don’t know what that means either.

Luci claims my hormones are “running a hostile corporate merger inside my bloodstream.”

The elevator ride up is quiet.

I lean against the mirrored wall, exhausted. My feet hurt. My back hurts. My emotions hurt. Even my bra feels insulting.

Luci watches me from the corner of her eye. “You okay?”

“No,” I say honestly.

“Nice. Growth.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

The elevator dings softly, and the doors slide open. As soon as I open the door, I freeze.

“What the hell?”

Luci nearly walks into my back. “Ow. Why did you stop?”

I just stare. Because sometime between this morning and now, Ethan Strong apparently activated Full Billionaire Emergency Nesting Mode.

The penthouse looks like a luxury prenatal clinic had a very expensive affair with a five-star hotel.

A woman in navy scrubs stands near the living room, speaking quietly into a tablet. There are floral arrangements, folders, medical binders, a basket on the kitchen island filled with crackers, electrolyte drinks, prenatal vitamins, ginger candies, herbal teas, compression socks, and what appears to be six different kinds of pregnancy-safe lotion.