Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sara
I don’t go straight home after the appointment.
I walk for an hour, maybe two, around the block, through the park, past cafés I used to love and restaurants I can’t afford.
It’s sunny out, but I can’t feel it. The world is too loud, too bright, too much, and all I want to do is find a quiet corner and disappear into it.
By the time I reach my building, my legs throb with every step and my mind churns, raw, shredded, barely holding shape.
Triplets.
Three heartbeats.
Three.
I still don’t know how I made it through the appointment without passing out. I still don’t know how I’m standing.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.
The second the elevator doors open to my floor, I walk straight past my apartment and knock on Laura’s door. I don’t think, I just knock.
She answers in pajama pants and a face mask, blinking at me as if she’s mid-nap and expecting takeout, not a hormonal breakdown. “Sara?”
“I need to tell you something,” I say, and my voice cracks so violently on the last word that she grabs my wrist and yanks me inside without a second thought.
I don’t make it past her couch. I sit down and pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around myself like I’m trying to stop the pieces from flying apart.
Laura peels off the mask and crouches in front of me, alarmed. “Okay. Deep breaths. Did Nick show up? Did someone die? Did Meatball choke on a sock again?”
I shake my head. “Worse.”
She stiffens. “Sara… it’s not twins, is it?”
I look at her. Eyes glassy. Voice trembling. “It’s triplets.”
She goes completely still. Then she laughs, one of those high-pitched, nervous sounds that don’t mean amusement at all. “Sorry. I thought you just said… triplets?”
“I did.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “Like… three babies?”
I nod.
“In your body? Right now?”
Another nod. My throat is too tight for words.
Laura stands up. Sits back down. Stands again. “I… are you sure? Like, medically sure? Not a ‘they saw a shadow on the screen and it might be a foot’ situation?”
“They showed me the heartbeats,” I whisper. “All three.”
“Holy hell,” she breathes, sinking into the armchair. “Triplets. Actual triplets. I mean… one baby is so many. And now you’re telling me it’s three? Are you okay? Are you in shock? Because I might be in shock. I need a paper bag.”
“I can’t do this,” I say, and now I’m crying again, full on, messy tears this time. “I don’t know how. I don’t have a plan or a clue or any idea where to start.”
She stares at me for another stunned second… and then something shifts. Her eyes narrow with purpose, her body language sharpens, and I can almost see the exact moment she switches from what the hell to okay, let’s do this.
She grabs a tissue, hands it to me, and mutters, “Well. Guess I’d better open a spreadsheet.”
I blink at her through wet lashes. “What?”
“Budget, babe. Diapers. Formula. Baby wipes. Do you know how many diapers triplets go through in a week? No? I do. Because I once hate-watched an entire season of Quints by Surprise after a breakup.”
She pulls her laptop onto the coffee table and starts clicking with the speed of someone storming a battlefield.
“I live in a shoebox,” I mumble.
“You’ll move.”
“I might be unemployed.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“I don’t even know what kind of stroller I need.”
“Two doubles or one triple,” she says, not missing a beat. “But the triples are monstrous. Think grocery cart on steroids. You’ll need wide doorways and a helmet for pedestrians.”
Despite myself, I laugh, a half-hiccuped thing that shakes loose from my chest. “You’re insane.”
“Thank you. Now, names. You need three. Can’t call them Thing One, Thing Two, and Oh Shit, There’s More.”
I lean back against the cushions, finally letting my body sink. “I haven’t even thought about names.”
“Well, you’ve got time. But for the record, I vote Nora for one. Strong, classic, very main character energy.”
A lump builds in my throat again, but it’s different this time. Not fear. Not panic. Something quieter. Something… almost safe.
“I’m still scared,” I admit. “Even with you. Especially without Nick.”
Laura closes the laptop and shifts closer, her voice softer now.
“Of course you’re scared. You’re growing three people.
And doing it in the middle of a scandal with a maybe-job and a definitely messy love life.
But you’re not alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got Meatball.
And whatever happens with Nick, you’ll deal with it. One thing at a time.”
I nod, slowly, letting her words sink in. Letting the weight of them fill the cracks in my chest.
Because yeah, this is still terrifying. It’s still completely overwhelming.
But with Laura beside me and one hand on my belly, I don’t feel like I’m falling anymore.
Not exactly.
Once I’m alone, though, and Meatball is curled up on my feet, the quiet presses in too hard.
All day I kept it together with spreadsheets and strollers and Laura’s endless list of baby names that ranged from adorable to absolutely unhinged. But now?
Now there’s just me.
And the echo of three tiny heartbeats still thudding somewhere deep inside me.
I curl up on the couch in Nick’s hoodie, a cup of chamomile tea going cold in my hands, and stare at the blank page on my laptop. I don’t even remember opening it. My fingers hover over the keys like they’re waiting for someone else to start typing.
And then, slowly, I do.
Dear babies,
I don’t know how to say this, or even if it’s the right thing to do, but I need to try. I need to put this somewhere because it’s too big to carry inside me alone.
I’m scared. Not just a little scared. The kind that makes your stomach flip or your palms sweat. I’m talking heart-in-your-throat, world-tilting, nothing-makes-sense kind of scared.
And I don’t want to lie to you and say I’m brave. Or ready. Or even remotely okay. Because I’m not. I feel like I’m holding this beautiful, impossible miracle in my hands and I have no idea how not to drop it.
But I want to get this right. More than anything, I want to be good for you. I want to be safe. And kind. And strong. I want you to laugh more than you cry. To never wonder if you’re loved.
I want you to know that even if everything around us feels uncertain…
You were wanted.
All three of you.
Every single heartbeat.
I pause, fingers frozen over the keyboard.
And then I stare at the screen for a long time, the cursor blinking after the last line.
My hands start to shake as I write the next part.
Your dad…
No.
I delete it. Then type again, slower.
Nick…
And stop.
Because I don’t know what comes next.
I don’t know what he wants. I don’t even know if he still wants me. Or if this, they, will be too much. Too fast. Too late.
I close the laptop slowly, my throat tight, my chest aching.
And then, just as the silence settles in again…
Buzz.
My phone lights up beside me.
Nick: I need to see you. Please.
My heart stumbles.
I stare at the message for a full thirty seconds, my thumb hovering above the screen as if pressing a key might detonate me.
Then I exhale.
And type.
Sara: Now’s not a great time.
It’s not meant to be cold, but I need to be more emotionally stable before I face him.
He replies almost instantly.
Nick: It’s important.
Nick: I need to explain. I need to see you. Just for five minutes. Please. There is so much going on…
The word “please” does something dangerous to me. Makes everything in my chest pinch and burn and ache.
But I don’t say yes. Not yet.
Sara: I have something to tell you, too.
There’s a pause. A long one.
Then…
Nick: Okay.
Nick: What is it?
I chew on my bottom lip.
Sara: Not over text.
Nick: Sara…
Sara: You’re not the only one who’s been hit with a plot twist lately.
Another beat.
Nick: Is it about the baby?
My pulse skitters. My fingers move before I can overthink it. I type because I don’t want to see the expression on his face again.
Sara: Babies.
Three blinking dots. Then they vanish.
Come back.
Vanish again.
Then…
Nick: …What?
I wince.
Sara: Yeah. You’re going to want to sit down.
Nick: Sara. Tell me.
Nick: Right now. Please.
My heart is pounding. I don’t know what his face looks like right now. I don’t know if he’s in his office or his car or pacing the roof of a building. All I know is my entire future is vibrating in my hand.
So I say it.
Sara: There are three of them, Nick.
Nothing.
No dots. No response.
Just silence.
Sara: Triplets. I found out today.
Still nothing.
I bite my lip so hard it hurts, resisting the urge to backtrack, soften it, turn the truth into something smaller than it is.
And then, finally…
Nick: Where are you?
I blink. Reread it three times.
Sara: Home.
Nick: I’m on my way.
Oh god.
What the hell is going to happen now?