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“What?” He listened intently, frown deepening with each passing second. “I’m on the way.”
“Is it Jessica?” Knox demanded as soon as Rob ended the call.
“Yeah. Went in with her sister for a routine appointment this morning, but now the doctors are saying the baby has to come today and to get to Portland for delivery, so we’re back with the better NICU just in case.”
“Damn.” Releasing me, Knox crossed to the hooks by the back door, grabbing one of his hoodies and pulling it on. “I’ll get the girls. Jessica will want her sister at the hospital, especially with the baby coming early.”
“I’ll help,” I added, grabbing my own sweatshirt, something I likely should have done five minutes ago rather than have this argument with Rob half-dressed.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Rob shook his head at me.
“Dad. Go. Be with Jessica.” Knox stomped back to stand right in front of Rob, toe-to-toe. “But don’t you dare take it out on Monroe.”
“You can trust me, Rob.” I tried for a more conciliatory tone. We needed a cease-fire, at the very least.
Rob only glowered as his phone buzzed. “Fine. Guess I have no choice.”
None of us did, honestly. We needed to get through this emergency, but as to whether Rob would ever truly trust or respect me again, I had only the barest of hopes.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Knox
Monroe sat on the rug in the TV room, surrounded by the triplets, and I’d never been more in love. His usual carefully combed hair was a mess, dirt smudged his aristocratic nose and cheekbones, one side of his lip was puffy from where Poppy had hit him with a ball, and his sweatshirt had bitten the dust several hours prior, along with my hoodie, when Iris and Lily had “accidentally” turned on the garden hose. Luckily, I’d found two of my old T-shirts in the laundry room, but Monroe was stuck in my I Do Crew T-shirt from the night we met.
Maybe someday…
Nah. I couldn’t think that far ahead right then, even if my heart wanted with a fierceness that couldn’t be denied.
“And then we fold the bottom up.” Monroe was demonstrating the art of making origami frogs, and I had to stifle an inappropriate laugh. Apparently, Monroe’s love of little scraps of paper like fortunes had extended to learning a few origami shapes, and the girls were riveted by this new magic.
Monroe had set each of them up with a colorful piece of construction paper, and he patiently helped the girls follow his directions.
“A frog!” Poppy squealed as she finished the creature and made it hop around the floor. “Now, I kiss it, like in the movie. And it’ll turn into my prince.”
My prince was right there, smiling indulgently at her, carefully helping Iris finish her frog, and my heart was so full I could hardly stand it.
“Any news?” Monroe asked me in a whisper as the girls raced their frogs all over the carpets.
“Not for a bit now.” I pulled out my phone like that might make news from the hospital come faster. Jessica had had a c-section with the triplets, but she had been eager to try for a vaginal birth this time. The medical team had started an induction as soon as she’d arrived in Portland, but that had been hours ago. We were fast approaching the dinner hour.
“What shall we feed these beasties?” I asked Monroe. Lunch had been PB&J for all of us. Easy. But I should probably make more of an effort for dinner.
“Not sure. What do you girls want for dinner?”
“Rookie mistake.” I groaned as we got three different answers.
“Spaghetti!”
“Nuggets!”
“Spaghetti, nuggets, and burgers,” Poppy went for broke after Iris and Lily chimed in.
“Spaghetti sounds easy enough.” Monroe had clearly never seen the carnage preschoolers could do with tomato sauce, but he was greeted by cheers, so to the kitchen we went. In a stroke of genius, he set the girls up with more drawing paper and crayons at the breakfast bar to make pretend menus for dinner, like we were at a diner, then joined me at the stove.
“Here. Made you something,” he said in a low voice as he slid me a small origami shape.
“You made me a paper fortune cookie?” If I hadn’t been in charge of a skillet of browning ground beef, I would have swooned. Right down to the tile floor. Keeping one eye on the beef, I opened the red paper cookie to reveal the fortune inside.
If you can dream it, we can do it.
“Monroe.” I waved the spatula. “No fair being all sweet when I can’t kiss you.”
“Like the frog?” Poppy asked, listening in far more intently than I’d suspected.
“Uh-huh.” I hoped she’d forget the exchange because the last thing I needed was my dad thinking we’d been kissing in the kitchen when we were supposed to be babysitting.
