Page 90 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I huff out a laugh. “Okay.”

Her whole face lights up. “Yes?”

“Yes. Friday.”

She points at me like I’ve passed a test. “We’re reclaiming your life.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ethan

There aremoments when control is a matter of discipline, and there are moments when it's a matter of distance.

This evening requires both.

I’m in the kitchen when I hear her bedroom door open.

I notice it immediately, the way I’ve become increasingly aware of her movement within the apartment without meaning to be.

An adjustment I didn't plan for.

I set my glass down on the counter and turn slightly, just as she steps into the hallway.

And then I make the mistake of looking properly.

Addy pauses at the edge of the living space, one hand still lightly touching the wall behind her as though she hasn’t fully committed to stepping into the room yet. She’s dressed differently than I’ve seen her so far. Not the soft practicality of her daytime clothes, or the oversized cardigans and quiet comfort she moves through the apartment in when she’s with Oliver.

This is something else.

A dress, simple in structure but fitted in a way that doesn’t leave much to interpretation. Dark enough to catch the low light,the fabric shifting slightly as she moves. Her hair’s down, falling in loose waves instead of the distracted knot she usually forces it into. There’s makeup, subtle but intentional. Enough to draw attention to her eyes. Her mouth.

She looks…

I stop the thought before it completes, because finishing that sentence leads nowhere useful.

She looks up then and finds me watching her.

There’s a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation in her expression. “Hi.”

“Good evening,” I reply, because I’m not about to contribute to the situation by abandoning structure entirely.

Her mouth twitches, suppressing a smile or a comment. With her, those are usually interchangeable.

“I’m heading out,” she says, gesturing slightly toward the door. “Drinks with Sophie. Human interaction, apparently. Remember?”

“I remember.”

Of course I do.

She mentioned it earlier. More than once, actually, in that half-casual, half-checking tone people use when they’re not entirely sure whether their plans require approval.

They don’t. I told her that. That doesn’t mean I’m indifferent to them.

“You look…” I start.

Then I stop, because there are several words available to me, and not one of them is appropriate.

Addy waits, her expression far too knowing, as if she’s willing to let the silence stretch until I either commit or retreat.