Triplet Babies for my Ex’s Best Friend (Billionaire Ex Appeal #4)

1. Addy

CHAPTER ONE

Addy

“Huh?”

There’s no way I heard that right.

Not a chance in hell.

“Bryce? What did you just say?”

“Addy,” he repeats, with a slight edge to his words as he backs off. “I really can’t do this.”

I freeze, my heart skipping once, before it kicks hard into overdrive, too fast for me to process anything he’s saying. The noise of the bustling airport fades into the background, and all I hear is my heartbeat in my ears.

Wait, what?

“Yeah… I really can’t do this. It’s too much, too serious, I just…”

I blink at him, still trying to make sense of it. People are staring. I can feel the quiet curiosity of strangers sensing a public unraveling. A woman in a business suit stands a few feet away, glancing at us over her shoulder as she sips overpriced coffee, waiting for the punchline.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I just stare at him.

This can’t be real.

“What do you mean?” I manage. “You’re leaving me? Here? Now? In the middle of Milwaukee Mitchell International goddamn airport?”

“I met someone else,” he gasps out. “Someone more… stable. I think she’s the one I need to be with. I don’t think this is something I can do.”

Stable? Stable?

I feel my blood boil, the heat rising in my face, in my neck. The alcohol from the wine I had earlier spins in my stomach, mixing with anger.

“Stable?” I laugh as I smooth down my dress. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Bryce. You asked me to move with you. You begged me to leave everything behind. My job, my friends, my apartment. All of it, for us. For you. And now you’re… what? Dumping me? Just as we’re about to get on a flight?”

“Addy, it’s not like that—”

“No?” I say, stepping forward as people continue to glance over, some of them even stopping, pretending not to listen, but obviously soaking it in.

Great. An audience. “Then what's it like, huh? You told me we were going to start a life together. And now you’re just leaving me for someone else. Just like that?”

A nearby businessman clears his throat, like he's uncomfortable with our scene. I feel my cheeks burn with humiliation, but it only makes me angrier.

“I need someone who’s more suitable, Addy,” he says decisively now. “You’re amazing, but you’re just too much. I need someone who won’t make everything a drama.”

Too much? I’m too much? For him?

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “You want me to just sit here and take this while you walk away to your new perfect life? You're unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hands going into his pockets. “But I need peace. And you, Addy, you bring too much noise. But you should still go. I mean, it’s near your sister, right?”

I stare at him as if the words are foreign. It’s not peace he’s after. It’s an easy way out.

“You’re such a coward,” I spit, the venom in my words poisonous. “I bet you don’t even care how this is destroying me, do you?”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he just looks resigned.

I stare at him, the finality of it sinking in.

It feels like the floor beneath me is crumbling. Like I’m sinking into the cold airport tiles, even though I’m somehow still standing.

“Fine,” I say, words cracking despite my best efforts. “Go ahead, then. Leave. Go be happy with your stable little life. I know how much you flip-flop, Bryce. But when you change your mind, don't bother coming back.”

I can feel the tears rising, but I refuse to cry in front of him. I push past him, trying to keep my composure as the stares burn into me.

He doesn’t call after me, which, honestly, feels very on brand for Bryce Biggs.

I keep walking, faster than I probably should considering the way everything feels slightly tilted. My chest is tight, my throat burning, and I’m pretty sure if I stop moving for even a second, I’ll cry. Like, ugly cry. The kind with hiccups and no dignity.

Eight months.

Eight months of my life, packed into two suitcases and a man who apparently woke up this morning and decided, you know what, emotional devastation sounds fun.

I gave up everything for him.

My carefully curated, semi-functional life where I at least knew what I was doing from one day to the next.

And for what?

So he could dump me next to an Auntie Annie’s and then go live his “peaceful” life with someone “stable”?

Stable.

I'm stable.

I paid my rent on time. I kept tiny humans alive for a living. I once assembled IKEA furniture without crying.

That should qualify me for some kind of medal, frankly.

I stop, the reality of everything pressing in all at once, heavy and suffocating. For a brief, terrifying moment, I consider turning around. Going back.

But back to what?

Back to explaining to everyone that I uprooted my entire life for a man who didn’t even have the decency to break up with me in private?

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

I mean, he was right about one thing. I was definitely looking forward to living closer to Luci.

I drag my suitcases toward the check-in area.

“Hi,” I say to the woman at the desk, aiming for composed and landing somewhere closer to mildly unhinged. “Same flight. Just… significantly less boyfriend.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly, but to her credit, she doesn’t ask questions.

“We can fix that for you,” she says, fingers already moving across the keyboard.

“Love that,” I murmur. “Big fan of fixing things today.”

I hand over my ID, trying not to think too hard about how my entire life just got edited like it was nothing. Like he just hit delete and moved on.

“Checking bags?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” I say. “Take them. Take everything. Symbolic fresh start and all that.”

This time, she does smile.

“Gate B12,” she says, handing me my boarding pass.

“Perfect,” I say brightly. “Economy cramped flight for a life I don’t even know yet. Exactly the experience I deserve today.”

She hesitates, then leans in slightly. “You might want to grab a drink before boarding.”

I blink at her, then nod slowly.

“You know what? That might be the most helpful thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

Security is a blur after that. Shoes off, bag through, my brain lagging somewhere behind my body. None of this feels quite real.

Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting at an airport bar, halfway through a glass of wine that cost more than my dignity, which, considering recent events, is saying something.

I swirl the glass absentmindedly, staring at nothing in particular while my brain replays the last hour on a loop.

“I mean, the audacity,” I mutter under my breath.

“Rough day?”

I glance sideways at a guy sitting a few stools down.

“That depends,” I say. “Do you consider being dumped in public mid-life relocation a rough day, or more of a personality-building experience?”

He winces. “Yeah, that’s rough.”

“Thank you,” I say, pointing at him with my glass. “Validation. That’s all I’m asking for.”

I take another sip, then sigh.

Men are exhausting, relationships are worse, and moving to a new city for one who turns out to be allergic to commitment? Deeply, spectacularly draining.

“Final boarding call for flight 472 to Chicago…”

I freeze.

Right.

Chicago.

I stare at my glass for another second before pushing it away.

Too late to change my mind now. My life is already somewhere beneath the plane in two checked suitcases.

I grab my tote bag and head for the gate.

By the time I get there, boarding is almost finished, which feels fitting. Of course I'd be one of the last passengers, slightly disheveled and carrying what remains of my dignity in an oversized tote bag.

I hand over my boarding pass, offering a polite smile that probably looks more like I'm trying not to scream.

The flight attendant scans it, then pauses.

Her eyes flick up to mine, and there’s a brief moment of recognition that makes my stomach drop.

Oh no.

Does she know I was dumped?

Did she see?

Fantastic. Love that for me.

“Miss Clarke?” she says gently.

“Yes?” I reply, already bracing myself.

She leans in slightly. “If you’d like, we can move you to first class. There’re some open seats.”

I blink at her. “I… sorry, what?”

“You look like you’ve had a day,” she adds, kind in a way that almost undoes me.

And just like that, my irritation softens into gratitude.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

She nods, and I don’t even try to play it cool.

“Yes,” I say immediately. “Yes, I’d love that. I’d actually marry you for this, but I’m currently taking a short break from poor decision-making.”

That gets a small laugh out of her. “Right this way.”

I follow her down the jet bridge, my brain still catching up.

First class, because I got dumped. If this is what rock bottom looks like, it has surprisingly good perks.

The moment I step onto the plane, everything feels different.

Quieter, calmer, slightly intimidating in that expensive way that makes you hyper aware of your own existence.

Definitely not my usual environment.

“Just here,” the attendant says, gesturing toward a seat.

And that’s when I see him.

He’s already there, leaning back like he belongs exactly where he is, which, judging by the way the space seems to orbit around him, he probably does.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Some sort of pilot’s uniform that fits a little too well, like it was designed specifically to make women make bad decisions. Salt and pepper hair, sharp jaw, and blue eyes that are already on me, like he clocked me the second I stepped on board.

Oh, that's unfortunate.

“Your seat,” the attendant says.

Of course it is, because clearly the universe decided today needed a hot older man complication.

“Fantastic,” I murmur, sliding into the seat beside him, smoothing my hair like that’s going to make any difference to this horrific day.

I can feel his gaze.

I try, really try, to ignore it, even as we ascend into the sky at long last, but it definitely isn’t easy. He’s seemingly very intense.

Time blurs after that. Drinks arrive. I say yes to one, then another.

The city disappears beneath clouds, and somewhere between takeoff and cruising altitude, the edge of my anger softens, becoming looser. Reckless. Almost a hysterical sort of joy.

And through it all, he hasn’t stopped watching me.