Page 27 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Yes,” he says.

I nod. “I’m Addy.”

“I know,” he replies.

“That’s a cool plane,” I add, nodding toward the one in his hands, because if there's one universal truth, it’s that children appreciate recognition of their interests.

His posture shifts almost immediately, like I’ve just said the correct password.

“Impressive,” I reply, completely serious. “That’s a big one.”

He nods, clearly pleased with both himself and the plane, which feels like a strong start for all of us.

“I have three,” he adds.

“Only three?” I say, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “I feel like you could do better.”

That gets a reaction.

A tiny smile. There it is, connection. The familiar rhythm. The easy shift from adult conversation into softer, more intuitive words.

“I could get more,” he says.

“I fully support that plan,” I reply.

Behind the desk, I feel Ethan watching, like this is the part that matters most.

Which, to be fair, it is.

“Do you like planes?” Oliver asks.

I glance briefly at Ethan.

Then back at Oliver.

“Yes,” I say. “But I think you probably know more about them than I do.”

He considers that and accepts it.

“I can teach you,” he says.

“I would love that,” I reply.

And just like that, I settle.

The tension loosens, my shoulders drop a fraction, and everything clicks into place in that familiar, reassuring way.

Which is exactly why the universe decides to intervene.

There’s a sudden blur of movement, fast, golden, and absolutely not appropriate for an office setting. Before I can fully process what’s happening, something large barrels into the room with complete disregard for personal space, furniture, or basic physics.

“Oh, hi…!”

A dog.

A very enthusiastic dog.

A golden retriever, all limbs and pure joy, skids slightly on the floor before launching directly toward me.