Chapter 38
38
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W hen my phone rapidly buzzes on the counter, I’m mid-bite of an over-toasted bagel that Harper cooked for me for breakfast. She tried, so I’ll eat it with a smile.
One look at the screen, and I know something’s up. Weston’s name flashes across it, his message in all caps, like he’s already yelling through the text before I’ve even opened it.
Weston
IT’S HAPPENING!!!!
Weston
EASTON’S LOST HIS DAMN MIND!
Weston
BUT ALSO LEXI’S GIVING BIRTH. brING CHAMPAGNE! FUCK IT, brING BOURBON!
I blink, reread it once, then twice. “Harp,” I call out toward the hallway, “Lexi’s in labor.”
There’s a beat of silence, followed by the unmistakable thump of Harper’s feet scrambling across hardwood. She appears in the doorway a second later, still barefoot, still brushing her hair back from her face, eyes wide with excitement. “Now?”
“Now,” I say, grabbing my keys. “Weston’s text was a full-blown emergency alert.”
She grins and disappears into the bedroom again. I hear drawers opening and the zip of a garment bag being yanked free. I finish my coffee in three gulps and slide my phone into my back pocket.
By the time she’s back, she’s wearing shorts, an oversize T-shirt, and the engagement ring that still makes my chest tight every time I see it catch the light.
“You ready?” I ask.
She pulls on her shoes. “I was born ready. But also, are we stopping for snacks? Because Easton’s going to stress-eat everything in sight.”
“I’m more worried about Billie trying to reorganize the hospital.”
“She will,” Harper mutters. “And she’ll do it in heels.”
We pile into the Range Rover and head for the hospital. The morning traffic is light, which feels like some divine favor. The group chat is blowing up, and our phones are buzzing nonstop with replies in the group thread.
Billie
Easton is hyperventilating. Weston is flirting with the anesthesiologist to get updates. God help us all.
Carlee
I have snacks and tissues. I’m emotionally prepared. Can’t say the same for your brothers.
Asher
I’ve got Billie. She’s pacing like she’s the one going into labor. Send backup. Anyone grab bourbon?
Weston
Apparently, booze isn’t allowed. I asked.
Harper’s laughing beside me, scrolling and snorting as she reads me every new text. The sunlight beams through the windshield and hits her cheeks, and in that moment, I realize I don’t just love her; I love all of it and having her beside me in the excitement with the family she’s inheriting. However, she’s always felt like family, and she’s always been a part of the Calloway chaos.
By the time we reach the hospital, it’s already a scene. There are two nurses standing just outside the maternity wing, whispering like they’ve seen a ghost—or worse, a Calloway in crisis . Weston’s voice booms from down the hall before we even turn the corner, followed closely by what sounds like someone knocking over a magazine rack.
Harper and I step into the waiting area, and it’s exactly what I expected … chaos in designer clothing.
Weston is pacing in front of the nurses’ station like he’s waiting for a stock to drop or the second coming of Christ. He’s wearing a camel coat, leather gloves, and sunglasses—indoors—gesturing wildly with a bottle of sparkling water like a microphone.
“Three babies,” he says to no one in particular. “You understand? That’s like … that’s a trilogy.”
Carlee’s seated in the corner near the windows, calm and polished as ever, pulling various snacks from her enormous quilted tote like she’s been tasked with catering the apocalypse. A nurse thanks her for the protein bars, and she smiles like she’s their little helper. She’s the only calm one here.
I glance at her, and she shrugs, completely unfazed. “My family is huge. I’m used to this.”
Billie sits on the edge of the couch with her phone in one hand, and the other taps against her knee. Her light coat is draped over the armrest in a perfect fold. She’s tense in that way only Billie can be—poised, dressed to kill, and seconds away from micromanaging someone into submission.
Asher sits beside her, scrolling through his phone with the dead-eyed calm of a man who knows the only way to survive is to let this play out. He’s actually one of the most patient people I’ve ever met, until he’s not.
“Welcome to the circus,” Asher says without looking up.
“Lexi’s still in labor?” Harper asks as we sit down beside them.
“Not sure. We haven’t gotten another update yet,” Billie says. “Easton’s currently in a supply closet, practicing breathing exercises and contemplating the fragility of life.”
“Weston’s not helping,” Carlee adds. “He’s been running bets on who will cry first when the babies arrive.”
I glance across the room just as Weston waves at us.
“My money’s on me!” he shouts. “Or Brody. He’s got that sensitive, soon-to-be-married man glow.”
Harper leans into my side. “Do not engage. That’s what he wants.”
“I make no promises.”
We fall into an easy rhythm after that—someone refills coffee, Asher pulls up a baseball schedule to distract Weston, Billie complains about the hospital’s slow-as-hell Wi-Fi, and Harper grabs a pen and starts sketching something on the back of a discharge pamphlet. I watch her for a while. Her brow is furrowed, her fingers moving like they already know the future. She’s calm and settled, glowing in that way people do when they’re happy.
And for a moment, in the middle of the noise and the nonsense, I realize this is our version of normal now. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The nurse clears her throat, pulling everyone’s attention away. “Mama’s doing great. All three babies are healthy—two boys and a girl. All breathing well on their own. No complications.”
It’s like someone presses play again on the entire room and raises the volume. Carlee gasps first, covering her mouth with both hands as tears spring to her eyes. Billie exhales, her shoulders finally dropping. Weston lets out a yelp so loud that it startles the nurse, and Asher mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I owe you five thousand bucks.”
I can’t stop smiling.
Harper reaches for my hand, and I take it without thinking, threading our fingers together. This is joy—the real kind. The unfiltered kind that makes everything else worth it.
“They’re perfect?” Carlee asks, her voice shaky.
She and Lexi have been best friends since they met in college. They’re as close as Billie and Harper.
The nurse nods with a smile. “They’re beautiful. Mom’s asking for some quiet before visitors, but Dad says he’ll be out in a second.”
Weston fans himself with a takeout menu, like he’s just witnessed a miracle.
Asher claps a hand on my shoulder. “You ever think about what you’d do with three at once?”
“Pass out,” I say.
Harper squeezes my hand. “You’d be a great dad.”
I look down at her and smile. “Want to find out?”
Her eyes soften in that way that says she wants that future. One with cribs and midnight feedings and someone laughing in the background while we lose our minds together.
And right then, Easton walks through the doors.
He’s pale, grinning, a little stunned, like someone just told him he’s now the CEO of the moon and handed him three screaming interns. His hair’s a mess, his shirt half untucked, but his eyes shine like the sun.
“They’re here,” he says, his voice hoarse.
We know that, but hearing him say it hits different.
“They’re so damn small,” he adds, rubbing his face. “And perfect. And loud .”
Billie’s already up and hugging him before he can continue. Carlee wraps her arms around them both. Weston claps him on the back and then immediately starts suggesting names, like Rogue, Riot, and Moxie .
Easton laughs and takes it, arms around the people who care about him the most. I stand back, watching the moment unfold, thinking this is what family looks like. This is my family.
When we’re finally allowed in, the nursery room is quiet. Not silent exactly because there’s a low hum of equipment and the occasional beep of a monitor, but it’s hushed, like everyone knows something sacred just happened.
Lexi is resting, propped up against pillows with a pink flush in her cheeks and that glazed, exhausted look only brand-new mothers have. She’s wearing an expression that’s equal parts disbelief and awe. Easton hasn’t moved more than a foot from her side, his hand on hers, his other arm protectively looped around the tiny bassinet beside them.
There are three of them, all swaddled like little burritos while they sleep.
Two boys and one girl.
The boys are identical—at least from where I’m standing. They wear pale blue hats and have wrinkled little faces. Their pink mouths twitch in their sleep, like they’re all dreaming of milk or mutiny. The baby girl is in the middle, dressed in soft lavender, already squirming a little more than her brothers. I can already tell she’s going to be a handful and give Easton a run for his billions. The thought makes me smirk.
Harper steps closer, her hands clutching the edge of the bassinet as she stares down at them. I move beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, watching her expression change from surprise and wonder to absolute awe.
“Do they have names yet?” she asks.
Lexi smiles, half delirious but proud. “Almost. We’ve narrowed it down to six hundred.”
Easton grunts. “I was vetoed on anything starting with an X or a Z.”
“You suggested Xander, Xavier, and Xenon,” Lexi mumbles.
“Xenon is cool. Sounds like a superhero,” he says.
“Or a printer,” Weston tells him.
“Or a cult leader,” Billie says, walking over to admire her niece and nephews. “Lex, please don’t let him name the babies something ridiculous.”
“I won’t,” Lexi confirms with a wink. “But if it were up to him …”
Easton places a kiss on Lexi’s head, and I love seeing them together. It’s true love, the real kind.
Weston lifts one of the babies like he’s holding Simba. “I’ve claimed this one,” he announces. “We’ve already bonded. He blinked twice at me, which is obviously the Calloway family sign for mentor me .”
“Put him back before Easton tackles you,” Billie says, but her voice is warm beneath the sarcasm.
Carlee is already snapping photos, misty-eyed and beaming. “You should frame this,” she tells Lexi. “It’s your beginning.”
I glance at Harper again. She’s still staring at the babies like she’s mesmerized.
“Do you want to hold one?” I ask, nudging her.
Her eyes flick to mine. “Can I?”
Lexi nods without hesitation. “Please. There are plenty of them to go around.”
Harper reaches down and carefully lifts the baby girl, cradling her like she’s held a hundred newborns before this. She rocks side to side instinctively; the baby snuggles into her like she knows she’s safe.
I didn’t think witnessing this would hit my emotions so hard. Watching Harper with that little purple-swathed bundle in her arms—her expression soft, her body quiet, her eyes shining—it punches something deep in my chest.
She catches me staring and raises a brow. “See something interesting?”
“This suits you,” I whisper into her ear.
A smile tugs at her mouth. “Dangerous thing to say to a woman holding a baby.”
We’re not supposed to be in here this long, but no one’s telling us to leave.
Lexi’s eyes are heavy, but she keeps smiling every time someone leans in to grab her hand or whisper congratulations. Easton hasn’t stopped watching her, as if he blinks too long, she’ll vanish. One hand still grips the back of her shoulder, like he’s afraid the moment might float away without him. A nurse peeks in to check vitals, sees us all still gathered, and just shakes her head fondly before ducking out. A minute later, she returns with a Polaroid camera.
“Want a group photo?” she asks.
It’s chaos after that.
Weston tries to fix his collar in the reflection of the monitor. Billie is directing lighting from the edge of the bassinet like she’s styling a campaign shoot. Harper brushes down Carlee’s hair while simultaneously handing her a fresh lipstick. Asher’s already planted himself behind Billie with one hand on her hip, waiting like this is just another boardroom headshot.
Lexi hands the baby girl off to Harper again. “She likes you,” she whispers. “She stopped squirming when you held her.”
Harper grins as the baby nestles under her chin, a breath escaping her tiny lips.
And me—I’ve got one of the boys now, swaddled in a powder-blue blanket, tucked carefully in the crook of my arm. He’s impossibly small. My free hand slides instinctively to Harper’s back, steadying her without even thinking.
The nurse positions us quickly, smiling like she knows she’s watching a whole ecosystem of history form in front of her.
“Okay, big smiles,” she says. “On three. One, two?—”
The shutter clicks.
In that single frozen moment, I feel it all. Lexi and Easton, exhausted but radiant. Billie and Asher, smirking but unshakably solid. Weston pretends not to tear up as he holds his nephew tight. He’s a big softy though. Carlee laughs while being supportive. Harper beside me, holding the future like it already belongs to her. And me—watching the people I love become something lasting, a legacy.
Lexi and Carlee hug each other for a long time, and Carlee whispers something into her ear.
“No way,” Lexi says, holding her hands, and tears stream down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” Easton asks as he starts to freak out. “Someone get the nurse. Lexi?”
“No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing Easton’s hand. “It’s the perfect time to tell them,” Lexi encourages Carlee.
“I’m pregnant,” Carlee announces.
The room bursts into excitement, and this is round three or four.
“Shh, shh,” Carlee says. “Keep it down.”
Billie’s mouth falls open. “Oh my God. It was your pregnancy test in the trash at Easton’s party.”
Weston laughs. “Surprise! Now I’m crossing my fingers that we have four babies so I can outdo you, Easton.”
“Shut. Up,” Carlee tells him, her face paling. “One is more than enough.”
We each offer our congratulations to them, and Harper hasn’t stopped smiling. I imagine our children growing up together, getting into the same bullshit we all did. A smile touches my lips as I enjoy that vision.
Not long after, the energy in the room shifts again—this time quieter, more intimate—as my aunt and uncle arrive with their spouses. All of them are layered with different kinds of emotion, every one of them beelining for Lexi and the babies.
Billie’s the first to nudge Harper and round everyone up. “Come on. The grandparents need this moment.”
We take it as our cue to leave.
One by one, we slip out of the room; hugs and whispered congratulations are followed by promises to come back tomorrow to visit. I squeeze Easton’s shoulder on the way out, and Harper kisses Lexi’s temple with the gentleness only a friend can get away with.
By the time we reach the hallway, the door clicks behind us. And for once, there’s nothing left to say. This is a brand-new chapter for Easton and Lexi, and for Carlee and Weston. For all of us. And I’m looking forward to the future.