Page 31

I closed my eyes because I didn’t have the energy to discuss my diet.

“Knock, knock.” Sinclair was still keeping up the pretense that we were just boss and employee in front of his daughters.

“I brought water and peppermint tea.”

The triplets held their noses and said the tea smelled like toothpaste.

Sinclair asked if I wanted anything to eat. “Dry toast? A banana? Plain crackers?”

“It’s just a touch of food poisoning.” I grimaced and patted my belly. “I’ll be fine by this evening.”

Sinclair’s eyes met mine. What he couldn’t say in words in front of his daughters he showed me in his lingering gaze and the cute accompanying smile. He mouthed, “I love you,” and blinked away tears.

“Me too.”

“You too what?” Ivy lifted her head from my shoulder.

Oops, I spoke out loud, and Sinclair grinned.

“We could stay home from school.” Poppy side-eyed her father before pulling the covers up to my chin. “You might get worse if we leave.”

Despite my nausea, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my little doomsayer. “Nice try but no. Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you get back.”

The girls kissed me, though Ivy laying her head on my belly and counting the gurgles didn’t help. Wren told her sister she was hurting the toys and she had to check they were okay which took five minutes.

I waved as Sinclair got them out of my room, but when they trampled down the stairs, Poppy asked him why he was standing on the squeaky step when he never used to.

“I like how it sounds.”

Awww, that step had become our siren call. It was adorable, and I hugged the toys.

I slept on and off during the day and mid-afternoon I woke to find crackers and more water on the nightstand. And there was a piece of paper tucked under the water with a heart and an arrow through it, along with a note that read: “We’re one squeaky step away from our happy ever after.”

I almost swooned, which was so not like me. That man had reached into my chest and wrapped his hand around my heart.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes again, three little faces were peering at me.

“We made soup.”

I clutched some of Wren’s toys, wondering if the kitchen was a smoking shell. But Sinclair arrived with a bed tray and said he’d supervised. The girls stuffed pillows behind me as their father helped me sit.

Ivy thunked onto the mattress, and the soup lurched to one side but didn’t spill. She picked up a spoon while Poppy held a napkin.

“This looks yummy.” It appeared to be broth with chunks of hot dog floating on the top, and there was a separate plate of burned toast. “It’s a feast.”

“Meat soup.” Wren picked up a stuffed rabbit and asked it if I’d been good. She bopped the toy’s head back and forth. I stroked her hair and explained the toys had kept an eye on me all day.

There was a discussion which teetered on the edge of an argument as to who would feed me, and Sinclair told his daughters to take it in turns. He tucked a napkin under my chin and his fingers brushed over my skin. I shivered and lifted my hand to grab his but froze mid-air because I’d forgotten about the girls. The three of them waved, thinking that was what I was doing.

I gave Sinclair a sidelong glance, and I recalled how his hand had grazed my bare skin when he removed my clothes.

“You have pointy skin.” Wren tapped my goosebumps.

“Open wide.” Poppy put the spoon to my lips but pulled it away and slurped what was on it. “I had to taste it first to make sure it was okay.”

“That’s smart.”

It must have met with her approval because she tipped the contents of the next spoonful into my mouth, with much of it running over my chin.