Page 42 of Triplets for the Rival MC

“What? When?” I demand before I can stop myself. It’s the sort of thing I’d expect to hear Flint say.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Flint interjects, his voice strained.

“Because I didn’t know how.” Her hands come up to cradle her stomach unconsciously. The movement doesn’t escape me.

My heart thunders.

“I’m not sick. I’m pregnant,” Tori says.

The word detonates in the room. For a second, none of us breathe. Tori’s pregnant.

Hunter is the first to speak. “Pregnant… like—”

“Around eight weeks now,” she says quickly, as if ripping off a Band-Aid.

My mind scrambles to comprehend what she’s telling us. How did this happen? I thought she was on contraception, though of course, accidents can happen. Any one of us could be the father. Does she want to know who the father is? Will the guys? Do I? Does it even matter? Of course, it makes sense now, the sickness, why she’s been acting strangely, she’s worried how we’ll receive the news of a baby so soon into our fledgling relationship.

Flint’s hand tightens around hers. “Okay,” he says carefully. “Okay.”

“How long have you known?” I ask. How long has she been hiding this from us? And why?

“A week,” she admits shamefaced. I only feel relief. It explains why she’s been so distant this past week. “I went while we were visiting Hank and Screw. My period was late. Well… non-existent for a while, but I’m not regular. Then with everything that happened…”

“Does Shelly know?” Flint asks, his voice betraying nothing. I doubt he’ll mind. I imagine that, like me, he’ll be glad that she had someone to confide in. Even though I feel a little hurt that person wasn’t me.

Tori nods, biting her lip. “There’s more,” she adds, her voice small and tremulous, tears spilling over.

My stomach drops. What more can there be? Is something wrong with the baby? God forbid, are we somehow not the father? No. There’s no way. I shake that evil, jealous voice away.

“It’s not just one baby.”

The world tilts. I blink at Tori, dumbfounded. Twins?

“How many?” Hunter breathes, asking the question I wouldn’t have even thought to ask.

“Three.”

The silence that follows is absolute. You could hear a pin drop. It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room as we all try to comprehend the news that there’s not one baby but three. Triplets.

“Three?” I repeat stupidly.

She nods, crying now in earnest, a mixture of relief and trepidation on her face. “Triplets. There are three separate placentas, three separate amniotic sacs. The doctor said they’re almost certainly from three different eggs.”

My brain struggles to keep up. I didn’t even know this was possible. Three eggs. Three babies. Could it be—?

Hunter’s eyes widen slowly. Flint’s mouth parts slightly as they must be drawing the same conclusion as I am. “Does that mean…” Flint begins carefully.

She looks between us, meeting each of our eyes in turn. “It means each of you could be the father. That each baby could have a different biological dad.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. Each of us could be a father. I look at Hunter. Then Flint. They’re wearing identical looks of shocked awe, of disbelieving joy.

A laugh bursts out of Hunter, half hysteria, half joy. “You’re serious.”

I turn back to look at Tori, a blush of pink warming her cheeks as she realizes we aren’t mad, far from it. She nods again, smiling now. “Yes,” she sobs, the sound coming out as a laugh.

Flint presses his forehead to hers. I see his shoulders start to shake, and I realize he’s laughing too, quiet, stunned laughter.

I feel it too. Joy. Wild, overwhelming, electric joy. I’m going to be a father, and so are my best friends. We’re having a family together with the woman we love.