Page 57 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Like with luggage?”

“Yes, because he was cheating on me.”

“Before a flight?”

“Yes!”

She slaps a hand over her heart. “Oh, he’s garbage.”

“I know.”

“At the airport is psychotic behavior. That’s not even regular cheating. That’s theater.”

I laugh so hard I have to put my cup down.

“Right?” I say. “Thank you.”

“No, seriously. If a man humiliates you in public while TSA is nearby, he should be legally required to pay damages.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Please do.”

I glance toward Oliver again. He’s now crouched beside another little boy, apparently engaged in a highly specific airport scenario involving blocks and what looks like a toy giraffe.

My heart softens a little.

“He likes it here,” Sophie says, following my gaze.

“Yeah.”

“And you needed a minute.”

I look back at her. There’s no judgment in it. Just observation. Kindness without fuss, which, weirdly, is exactly what I need right now.

“I really did,” I admit.

She stands, resuming her wiping like this was never a conversation, and she hasn't just single-handedly interrupted my spiral. “Well, you’re welcome to borrow the café as needed. We have coffee, carbs, and very strong opinions about men.”

“That sounds medically useful.”

“It is.”

She starts to move away, then pauses. “Also?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever that guy said to make you look like that when you opened your phone…” Her voice softens just slightly. “He was wrong.”

And just like that, my throat tightens again.

Not in the sharp, humiliating way from before.

In the softer, stranger way kindness sometimes gets you when you’re already holding on by your fingernails.

I smile. “Thanks.”

Sophie nods once and heads back to the counter.