Page 273 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Fair.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

I touch her cheek. “Look at me.”

She does.

For months, I’ve watched her change. Watched her body carry our children. Watched her become softer in some ways, sharper in others. Watched her cry over commercials, threaten my nutritionist, fall asleep mid-sentence, and love Oliver with a ferocity that still humbles me.

I’ve watched her build a home inside my life without asking permission.

And now she’s giving me more than I ever believed I was allowed to have.

“You’re not alone,” I tell her.

Her mouth trembles. “I know.”

At the hospital, everything happens too quickly and too slowly at once.

There are monitors. Voices. Nurses. Doctors. Paperwork I sign without reading because my eyes keep finding Addy. She’s brave in a way that makes me feel useless. Furious at pain. Terrified beneath it. Cracking jokes between contractions because apparently sarcasm is her birth plan.

At one point, she grabs my collar and hisses, “If you ever look at me romantically again, I’ll throw you into Lake Michigan.”

“You said that last month.”

“I mean it more now.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, but shut up.”

Dr. Hernandez hides a smile.

Hours blur.

Then the room changes.

The energy shifts.

A nurse says something gentle. Dr. Hernandez moves with calm precision. Addy’s hand tightens around mine until I’m certain she’s breaking bones.

And then…

A cry.

My vision blurs before I understand I’m crying.

A nurse lifts the tiniest baby I have ever seen, impossibly furious at the world, and Addy sobs.

“Baby A,” Dr. Hernandez says warmly. “A girl.”

A daughter.

Mydaughter.

I press my forehead to Addy’s temple, unable to breathe properly. “She’s here.”

Addy laughs through tears. “She sounds mad.”