39. Addy
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Addy
Being discharged from the hospital should feel like victory.
It doesn’t.
It feels like being handed my belongings in a plastic bag and politely released back into society with three tiny secret passengers and absolutely no adult supervision.
Which, frankly, seems irresponsible.
A nurse named Brenda wheels me toward the exit even though I insist I can walk.
“You fainted,” she says.
“Yes, but I’ve evolved since then.”
Brenda doesn't laugh. Brenda has seen too many women try to act brave while secretly panicking into hospital socks. Brenda knows my type.
Luci walks beside me, carrying my bag, my phone, my discharge papers, my dignity, and what remains of my sanity.
Every time I touch my stomach, she notices.
Every time she notices, I stop.
There are three babies inside me.
Even thinking the sentence feels absurd.
Triplets.
That’s not a pregnancy. That’s a logistical crisis with heartbeats.
A hostile takeover with placentas.
“Are you breathing weird on purpose?” Luci asks as we reach the main entrance.
“I’m breathing normally.”
“You sound like a ghost seeing electricity.”
“That feels about right.”
Outside, Chicago greets us with cold air, traffic noise, and the deeply personal insult of continuing as usual when my entire life has just been turned upside down, shaken violently, and possibly stuffed into a diaper bag.
A sleek black car waits near the curb.
Of course it does.
Luci spots it before I do. “Please tell me that isn’t Ethan’s.”
I stare at the driver standing beside it, holding a tablet with my name on it.
The sign reads Adeline Clarke in crisp black lettering.
Formal, efficient, unmistakably Ethan.
My chest tightens. “He sent a car.”
Luci looks at me carefully. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“No.” I swallow. “It’s a very Ethan thing.”
The driver steps forward. “Ms. Clarke? Mr. Strong asked me to take you home.”
Home.
The word hits in a soft, dangerous place.
Ethan’s penthouse. Oliver. Captain. My room. The kitchen island. His office. His hands. His fear.
I can’t go there yet.
If I see him right now, I might crumble. Or yell. Or throw up. Or tell him there are three babies before either of us has had enough caffeine to survive the sentence.
Possibly all four.
Luci must see it on my face because she turns to the driver with a pleasant smile that contains absolutely no warmth. “Change of plan.”
The driver blinks. “Mr. Strong requested—”
“Mr. Strong can join the club of people not currently in charge of my sister’s uterus.”
I choke. “Luci.”
“What? It’s true.”
The driver looks like he’d rather drive directly into Lake Michigan than respond.
I press my fingertips to my temple. “Can you take us to Brewed Awakening?”
The driver hesitates for half a second, then nods. “Of course.”
Luci helps me into the back seat like I’m made of antique glass. I don’t complain because my knees feel weird and my body is doing that shaky post-hospital thing where it pretends to be functioning but is clearly considering unionizing.
Brewed Awakening smells like coffee, sugar, and the kind of warmth that makes a person believe civilization might survive after all.
Sophie is behind the counter when we walk in. She takes one look at me and nearly drops a pitcher of oat milk.
“Oh wow.” She rushes around the counter. “You look like an orphan who just inherited trauma.”
“I missed you too.”
She wraps me in a hug, careful but fierce. “Are you okay?”
“That depends on how emotionally flexible your definition of okay is.”
Luci lifts one hand. “She’s pregnant.”
“Luci!”
Sophie freezes.
“With triplets,” Luci adds.
“Luci!”
Sophie’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
She has no immediate snark. “Holy shit.”
“Correct,” I say. “That’s the medical term.”
Sophie grabs us a corner table, two teas, one hot chocolate I don’t ask for but absolutely need, and a plate of pastries because apparently everyone has decided I’m now a fragile fertility goddess who must be fed.
I sit with my hands wrapped around the mug, staring into the steam.
“So,” Sophie says carefully, sliding into the chair across from me. “Triplets.”
I nod.
“Ethan’s?”
I give her a look.
“Right. Sorry. Dumb question. Unless your life has introduced another secret billionaire pilot?”
“Please don’t manifest that.”
Luci leans back in her chair. “He left her at the hospital.”
Sophie’s eyes sharpen.
“He had to go to Oliver,” I say quickly.
“That can be true and still suck,” Luci says.
I hate how many things can be true at the same time. It’s very inconvenient. I prefer emotions with clear labeling. This one is not dishwasher-safe.
“He called Luci,” I add. “He made sure I wasn’t alone.”
Sophie softens. “That matters.”
“It does.” I stare at my tea. “But I was still alone first.”
Neither of them argues.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “I live in his house. I work for him. I love Oliver. I think I…” I stop so hard the words practically trip over each other. “I think I’m very stupid.”
Luci reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist. “You’re not stupid.”
“I slept with my boss.”
“Frequently,” Sophie says.
I point at her. “Not helpful.”
“Sorry. Processing through facts.”
“I’m pregnant with three of his babies, and he looked like someone handed him a live grenade.”
Luci’s face softens. “He’s scared.”
“So am I.”
“I know.”
“And what if he’s only here because he feels responsible? What if he does the billionaire thing and builds a gold-plated nursery while emotionally living in another time zone?”
Sophie winces. “Specific.”
“I’ve had time to spiral.”
Before either of them can answer, the bell over the café door rings.
I don’t look up at first. Then Luci goes completely still. Sophie’s expression changes.
My stomach drops before my eyes even move.
Bryce walks into the café like the universe personally decided I hadn’t suffered enough for one week.
Celeste is beside him, pale and tense in a cream coat, her hair smooth but her face tired. Bryce, however, looks polished. Expensive coat, smug mouth, restless eyes.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Luci says.
Bryce’s gaze flicks to her. “Luci.”
She stands so fast her chair screeches against the floor. “Nope. Absolutely not. You don’t get to say my name like we’re acquaintances at brunch.”
I grab her sleeve. “Luci.”
“No, Addy.”
Bryce sighs. “I’m not here for drama.”
“That’s wild, considering you travel with it like carry-on luggage.”
Several people turn.
Sophie slowly rises behind the table, expression pleasant in a way that means violence is being considered but not yet scheduled.
Bryce looks at me. “Addy, can we talk?”
Every muscle in my body tightens.
“No,” Luci snaps immediately.
Bryce’s jaw shifts. “I wasn’t asking you.”
Luci steps forward before I can stop her. “Oh, mistake number one.”
Celeste touches Bryce’s arm. “Maybe we should go.”
He shakes her off, not violently, but sharply enough that I notice.
So does Luci.
So does Sophie.
Ice cold slips through me.
“Don’t touch her like that,” I say.
Bryce’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I see the man from the airport. The one who decided my life was inconvenient and discarded it in public. But now there’s something worse under the surface. A pressure. A crack spreading beneath the charm.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he says.
I laugh once. “Me?”
“You humiliated me at the gala. And Ethan had no right to have security threaten me.”
“He had every right,” I say. “You weren’t wanted there.”
His face tightens. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“There it is,” Luci says. “The fragile male mating call.”
Bryce points at her. “Stay out of this.”
Luci steps forward. “Point that finger at me again, and you’ll be retrieving it from your overpriced colon.”
“Luci,” I hiss.
“What? Pregnancy has made me protective.”
“I’m the pregnant one.”
“And I’m emotionally dilated.”
Sophie makes a strangled sound.
Bryce’s eyes snap back to me. “Pregnant?”
The café goes quiet.
My lungs freeze.
Celeste looks at me. Then at Bryce. Then back at me, her face paling further.
I stand slowly, one hand pressing against the edge of the table. “That’s none of your business.”
Bryce’s gaze drops to my stomach.
I hate it.
I hate him looking there.
I hate that I feel exposed, like he has reached across the room and touched something sacred with dirty hands.
“Is it his?” Bryce asks.
The room detonates.
Luci lunges.
Sophie catches her around the waist with impressive speed for a woman holding a pastry plate.
“I will end you!” Luci snaps.
Bryce laughs, but it’s ugly. “That didn’t take long.”
I feel every drop of blood leave my face. Then heat replaces it. Rage. Beautiful. Clarifying. Much better than nausea.
“You don’t get to speak about me like that,” I say.
His expression flickers.
Good.
“You don’t get to come into my life, lie to me, cheat on me, abandon me in an airport, parade her around like a prize, show up at Ethan’s home, crash his gala, and then act like I owe you a polite conversation.”
Celeste flinches at the word prize.
Bryce notices and scowls. “This is pathetic.”
“You would know,” Luci says.
He turns toward the door. “Come on, Celeste.”
Celeste doesn’t move.
Bryce stops. “Celeste.” She looks down at the floor. “I said come on.”
There it is again. That tone. Familiar in a way that makes my skin prickle. The tone of a man who thinks love means obedience.
Celeste swallows. “I think I’ll stay for a minute.”
His face changes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“She said she’s staying,” Sophie says quietly.
Bryce looks around the café, realizing people are watching now. Really watching. Phones not out, but close. Chicago loves coffee, but Chicago also loves a public downfall.
His jaw flexes. “Fine.” He steps close to Celeste, lowering his voice, but not enough. “Don’t make this worse.”
She doesn’t answer.
Then he storms out, the bell over the door ringing violently behind him.
For several seconds, no one speaks.
Then Luci exhales. “I regret not biting him.”
Sophie releases her. “That would’ve created paperwork.”
“I’m willing.”
Celeste stands near the entrance like she isn’t sure whether she’s allowed to occupy space. Her hands are clasped tight in front of her, knuckles pale.
I know that posture.
I hate that I know it.
“Celeste,” I say gently. “Do you want to sit down?”
Her eyes meet mine, wary and embarrassed. “I shouldn’t.”
“You can.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
The apology hurts more than I expected. Because suddenly she doesn’t look like the woman Bryce left me for. She looks like another woman Bryce has trapped inside one of his stories.
Sophie brings another chair without asking. Luci remains standing, visibly battling her desire to hate Celeste on principle. Then she sighs and sits.
“I’m still mad,” Luci announces.
Celeste gives a tiny nod. “That’s fair.”
“Good. We understand each other.”
Celeste sits carefully, like the chair might reject her.
I push the untouched hot chocolate toward her. “Here.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
“That’s what people say when they’re aggressively not fine.”
Her mouth trembles.
Oh great. Now I feel sorry for her. This is inconvenient for my villain narrative.
“I didn’t know about you,” Celeste says quietly. “Not really. He said you and he had already ended things.”
I laugh softly, without humor. “He ended things at the airport.”
Her eyes close. “He told me you were unstable.”
Luci mutters something that sounds like a murder spell.
“He loves that word,” I say.
Celeste looks at me. “He says it about me now.”
The table goes still.
Sophie’s expression softens first. “What’s been happening?”
Celeste stares at her hands. “Nothing I can explain without sounding stupid.”
“You won’t sound stupid,” I say.
“I wanted to leave last week,” she admits. “Go back home. This whole Chicago thing wasn’t supposed to last this long. He said he had opportunities here, meetings, a way to fix something that should’ve been his.”
My pulse gives a small, strange kick.
“What should’ve been his?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. He gets vague when he talks about it. One minute he says Ethan owes him. The next he says he’s working on a project. Something important. Something that will prove he was always necessary.”
Luci’s eyes meet mine.
Sophie’s smile disappears.
My hand goes to my stomach before I can stop it.
“A project,” I repeat.
Celeste nods. “He’s been obsessed with his laptop. Taking calls outside. Getting angry if I walk into the room. He barely sleeps. He keeps saying once this is over, everything changes.”
A cold thread unwinds through me.
“What does that mean?” Luci asks.
“I don’t know.” Celeste’s voice shakes. “That’s the problem. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Has he hurt you?” Sophie asks carefully.
Celeste looks away. My stomach turns.
“Celeste,” I say, softer now. “You don’t have to go with him.”
Her eyes fill. “I don’t have anywhere here.”
“I didn’t either,” I say.
The words leave before I can stop them.
And they’re true.
I came to Chicago with nothing but luggage, humiliation, and the delusional hope that my life might not be as wrecked as it looked. Then Ethan happened. Oliver, Captain, Sophie. Luci showing up like a caffeinated storm system.
I found people.
Maybe Celeste needs people too.
Sophie reaches for a napkin and slides it toward her. “You can sit here as long as you want.”
Luci points a finger at Celeste. “I’m not emotionally ready to like you.”
Celeste lets out a broken little laugh.
“But,” Luci continues, “I’m always ready to hate Bryce more. So there’s room for growth.”
That makes Celeste cry. Quietly. The kind of crying that tries not to bother anyone.
I know that kind too.
I just didn’t ever think it’d be anyone but me.