29. Ivy
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ivy
The paper on the exam table crinkles beneath me as I shift, cold gel already slick across my lower belly. I’m clutching the edge of the table like it’s going to keep me steady. Beside me, three men pace different corners of the small room like caged animals.
Hunter stands by the sink, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the monitor like he’s about to take notes.
Rhett leans against the wall near the cabinets, silent but steady, his hands flexing like he’s trying to decide if they should be in his pockets or fisted.
Landon sits on the chair closest to me, elbows on his knees, his whole body angled toward me like he’s ready to move the second I flinch.
Dr. Naomi Patel, thin-framed with kind eyes behind square glasses, wheels the ultrasound machine closer. “Okay, Ivy,” she says softly. “We’re going to take a closer look today. You’re measuring about six weeks, correct?”
I nod, my throat too tight for words.
“Good. We’ll check viability, placement, and listen for cardiac activity if we can pick it up this early. You’ll see the screen once I get a clear picture.”
The wand presses against me. I wince but stay still, the cold bite of it nothing compared to the storm rolling through my chest.
The screen flickers. Grainy gray shadows. Dr. Patel tilts her head. Adjusts.
And then she makes a small sound. Almost a hum.
I freeze. “What? What is that?”
Hunter straightens. Rhett pushes off the wall. Landon leans forward, tension sharp as wire.
Dr. Patel doesn’t look away from the screen. “Well,” she says carefully, “this is… unexpected.”
My nails dig into the paper. “Unexpected how?”
Her hand moves deftly on the probe. She clicks something on the machine. Points at the blurry shapes on the monitor. “Here’s one gestational sac… here’s another… and”—she shifts again—“a third.”
The room goes silent.
I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
Dr. Patel finally looks at me, her smile gentle. “Triplets, Ivy. You’re carrying three.”
Everything tilts. My breath lodges somewhere in my throat.
Hunter swears under his breath, a low shocked laugh that cracks like static. “Holy—” He cuts himself off, pressing his hand over his mouth.
Rhett just stares. Blank. Like his brain has stopped computing.
Landon lets out a slow exhale, scrubbing his jaw with one hand, his eyes fixed on the monitor like he can will it into showing something different.
“Triplets,” I echo, my voice high and thin.
Dr. Patel nods. “Yes. All three appear to be measuring consistently. That’s good. We’ll monitor closely for growth and viability over the coming weeks. Carrying multiples is higher risk, but we’ll keep you well supported.”
The room spins. I grip the edge of the table tighter. “How—how is that even?—”
“It can happen spontaneously,” she explains calmly. “Particularly if more than one egg is released. It’s rare, but not unheard of.”
I can’t even look at the men. I feel them, three different energies filling the room—Hunter buzzing with stunned excitement, Rhett a wall of silent shock, Landon a controlled mask I can’t read.
“What about…” My voice cracks. I swallow. “What about paternity?”
Dr. Patel’s eyes soften. “At this stage, there’s no way to determine that. If the babies share the same placenta, they’re identical and from the same egg. If they each have their own, they could have different fathers, but we won’t know for certain until genetic testing after birth.”
The words slam into me like stones. Different fathers. After birth. Unknowns piling up.
“Okay,” I whisper, though nothing feels okay.
Dr. Patel pats my arm gently. “Let me finish the measurements, and then we’ll get you cleaned up.”
The wand moves again. I focus on the ceiling tiles, counting the tiny holes in the speckled surface because if I look at the screen again, if I see three flickering lives inside me, I might shatter.
She prints images, wipes the gel from my skin, and steps back. “I’ll have my nurse schedule your next scan in two weeks. We’ll want to keep a very close eye.”
The men close in as soon as she leaves.
“You okay?” Landon asks first, his hand on my shoulder. His voice is rougher than usual, like he’s fighting to stay calm.
Hunter crouches beside me, grin twitching at the corners of his mouth like he can’t stop it. “Baby girl, do you understand? That was three little heartbeats. Three. We’re talking—this is huge.” He’s practically vibrating with awe.
Rhett sits heavily in the chair, shaking his head slowly. His jaw is locked tight, his eyes flicking between me and the printouts in the doctor’s hand. He doesn’t speak.
“I need—” My voice comes out sharp. I press my hand to my forehead. “I need a minute. Alone. Please.”
They hesitate. Hunter looks like he wants to argue, but Landon nods once, guiding them both toward the door.
The room is suddenly too quiet.
I press both hands to my face, then drop them to my stomach, trembling fingers brushing over the thin fabric of the gown. Triplets.
Last summer, I was alone in a shoebox New York apartment, eating takeout off paper plates, convincing myself I was fine with a life that felt like cardboard.
Now—this summer is ending and I am unrecognizable. My heart is tangled with three men I never saw coming. My body is carrying three babies I never planned for. My world has tilted so far I don’t know where the horizon is anymore.
I pat my stomach lightly, as if to test if it’s real. “Hi,” I whisper, voice breaking. “You’re… all really in there, huh?”
Tears sting hot at the corners of my eyes. I swipe them away fast.
I wish Brooke was here. She’d know what to say. She’d have some sharp comment, something that would make us laugh. But Claire came down with a bug, and now half of Brooke’s house is sick.
So it’s just me.
My hands shake as I pull my phone out of my bag. I scroll to my mother’s number. Hit call.
One ring. Two. Straight to voicemail.
Of course.
The hollow space in my chest expands.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark, then pull up another number. My new employer. The one in New York. The one I’m supposed to meet in less than a week, bright-eyed and ready to start fresh.
The call connects. A clipped female voice answers. “This is HR for Kellerman, Chase & Harlan.”
I clear my throat, my voice shaky. “Hi. This is Ivy Woods. I’m scheduled to start with the firm next week.”
“Yes, Ms. Woods. We have you on file.”
“I… I’m calling to request an extension.” My knuckles whiten around the phone. “There are some urgent family matters I need to handle here, and I won’t be able to relocate on the original timeline.”
There’s a pause. I hear keys clacking. “Normally, that would be difficult. But you come highly recommended by Mr. Woods.”
My father. Of course. His name stretches long and heavy between us.
“We can grant an extension of three months,” the voice continues. “That should give you time to resolve your matters. After that, we’ll need you in New York.”
Relief and dread crash into me all at once. “Thank you,” I whisper.
When the call ends, I sit there in the exam gown, phone heavy in my lap, my hands trembling.
Three months. Three babies. Three men waiting on the other side of the door.
And me—sitting here in the middle of it all, completely changed from the woman I was last summer.
The ringtone yanks me out of sleep. My body feels like lead, sunk deep into the mattress. The kind of exhaustion that’s not just physical but bone-deep, like the moment I walked out of that hospital, my body decided it had carried enough adrenaline and just gave out.
I fumble for my phone on the nightstand, eyes still gritty. The screen glows bright in the dim room.
Dad.
My stomach lurches. I swipe to answer before I can talk myself out of it.
“Ivy.” His voice is smooth and cold, the way it always is when he’s displeased. “I just got off the phone with KCH. They told me you requested an extension.”
Shit.
“Yes,” I say quickly, sitting up, dragging the blanket with me like it might shield me. “Brooke needs help. The twins are a lot, and I didn’t want to leave her stranded.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it’s the only shield I have.
There’s a pause. Then his sigh cuts sharp through the line. “Ivy. Do you hear yourself? You’ve worked too hard to get here. You’ve let sentimentality interfere before. I thought we agreed you were finished wasting time.”
My throat tightens. My father doesn’t yell—he never needs to. His disappointment always lands heavier than shouting.
“I’m not wasting time,” I argue, but the words wobble. “I just… I needed a little more space before I take this on.”
“You are wasting away your career,” he snaps, voice clipped. “These extensions, these excuses—opportunities like this don’t wait for you, Ivy. They will move on to the next name, and when they do, don’t expect me to salvage it for you.”
My fingers clench around the phone. I bite my lip to keep from spilling the truth—that I’m not just tired, not just helping a friend, but pregnant.
Pregnant with triplets. That my whole life has detonated and reformed in the span of a single summer, and I’m standing in the rubble trying to make sense of it.
But I can’t. Not to him. Not yet.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper instead.
The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, before he hangs up without a goodbye.
The room is still again, but I feel anything but calm. My pulse races, my skin prickling hot. I lower the phone to my lap, stare at it until my vision blurs.
I’m not alone anymore. Not with Chloe sleeping down the hall. Not with Hunter and Rhett and Landon filling this house with their laughter and chaos and steady presence.
But the reality is clawing at me—I’m carrying three babies, I’m in love with men who complicate everything, and my career, the one thing I’ve been building toward for years, suddenly feels like it’s slipping out of reach.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up. The house is quiet now, the soft hush of nighttime settling in. My bare feet pad across the floor, down the hall, toward Chloe’s room.
The door creaks open. She’s in her crib, cheeks round and flushed in sleep, little fists curled up near her head. Her chest rises and falls in the slow rhythm only babies have.
I press my hand to the crib rail, leaning closer. My voice is barely a whisper. “What do you think about having new sisters, huh? Or new brothers?”
Her only answer is a soft sigh, lips puckering like she’s dreaming.
I smile, but it’s a fragile thing, thin as glass. “You’d be such a good big sister.”
The words crack something open inside me. Fear. Excitement. Love that’s too big for my chest. I’m terrified of what this means—for me, for them, for the life I thought I was supposed to chase in New York.
But looking at her, so small and safe, I know one thing: nothing will ever be the same. And maybe… maybe that’s not all bad.
I tuck the blanket higher around Chloe and rest my hand against my stomach, whispering to the tiny lives I can’t yet see. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Even if I don’t know how yet.