Chapter 22
ROXIE
When I wake up, the emptiness of the room is obvious and immediate. My bed is warm, sheets tangled around my legs. But the guys are gone.
For a second, my tired brain panics, reacting instinctively before I realize… no. They’re probably just in the kitchen or already up, doing whatever ridiculously responsible morning things they do.
Making breakfast. Working out. Cleaning. Getting ready.
Their scents still cling to the bedding, though. Warm and masculine and familiar. Boone’s cedar. Chance’s clean sweat and spice. Dillon’s crisp, subtle cologne. I pull in a slow breath, let it fill my lungs, and it calms me in a way I don’t expect.
God, I hadn’t realized how much I love waking up like this, surrounded by the leftover warmth of three men who make me feel safe, wanted, and cherished.
I roll onto my back and stare out the window. The mountains are dusted in white, like someone sifted powdered sugar over them overnight. It really is impossibly beautiful out here. Quiet, serene, and tucked away from the world and all its ugliness.
Really, it’s no wonder I’m falling so fast. In a place like this, with so few distractions, everything feels so much more intense. For weeks, we’ve had nothing to do but work and spend time together.
I think of Dillon and how he always makes me laugh.
He has this mind that never stops moving, never stops solving puzzles, and yet he always makes space for me in his day.
I don’t even have to ask. He’s brilliant in a way that should be intimidating, but instead it feels comforting.
Like he could hack the universe if he needed to, just to keep me safe.
Boone, on the other hand, is my steady wall of calm. Strong in a way that isn’t loud. Grounded. Patient. Every time he looks at me, I feel tethered to something solid. Like the whole world could turn abruptly upside down, but he’d hold me right side up through sheer force of will.
Chance is fire and warmth, stubborn loyalty and heat. He touches me like he can’t help himself, kisses me like he’s starving, and holds me like I’m precious.
They only pay attention to their phones when they’re working, and when they aren’t, they’re completely present.
My heart stumbles at the thought. It still doesn’t feel real that I can want them all, that they all want me back, and that everyone is just completely okay with it. But the soft morning haze of my thoughts burns off fast when something colder and sharper sneaks in as full consciousness settles.
Right. It’s called reality. Fuck.
I push my palms over my face, my breath catching somewhere between a laugh and a groan. I tell myself I’ll deal with it later but later is now and I’m pregnant.
The symptoms aren’t subtle anymore, yet I’ve stuck my head so far into the sand I’m basically suffocating in it. My hands drift to my stomach, resting there like even that tiny contact might give me answers I’m not ready for.
I’m not just falling for these three men, I’m carrying one of their babies, and ready or not, it’s time to stop pretending otherwise. Energy rushes through me, giving me an urge to move. To do something. Still, I push myself upright slowly, doing my best to keep the nausea at bay.
My phone lies on the nightstand and my fingers hover over it for a second, my pulse loud in my ears. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick it up and dial Madison. She answers on the second ring.
“Rox?” Her voice is groggy. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine, but I’m not in trouble either.” I suck in a shaky breath. “I just need to tell you something and I have to say it now or I’ll lose the nerve, but you have to promise not to scream.”
There’s a quiet beat. “You’re pregnant.”
“I—wait. How did you?”
“Because I’m psychic. Or maybe it’s because you only say don’t scream when it’s something absolutely insane and this would definitely qualify. So are you? Like, really?”
My throat tightens. “Yeah. I, uh, I took a test.”
Madison lets out a sound that is absolutely a scream. I wince and pull the phone away from my ear until it subsides. “Hey, you promised.”
“I lied. Holy shit, Roxie. You’re pregnant? A bun in the oven? An actual, like, baby?”
“Stop saying actual,” I mutter, pressing my free hand to my forehead. “You’re making it worse.”
She sucks in a breath, and I hear sheets rustling, like she’s climbing out of bed. “Okay. Okay. You’re pregnant. I mean, oh my God, but are you happy?”
The question punches me right in the heart. My eyes slide shut and I breathe through the uncertainty for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel.”
“That’s okay,” she says gently. “Just tell me what’s going on in your head.”
“I am happy, but I’m also not. Because how can I be? I’m terrified. I’m in love with them, Mads. I know it’s fast. I know it’s insane to love three different guys at the same time, and I know I sound like someone who needs a seventy-two-hour psych evaluation, but I love them.”
Madison is quiet for a moment, then her voice softens. “Do they know?”
“God, no. Not yet. They’re already stressed about Caruso, and I’ve barely wrapped my own head around this.” I exhale shakily. “I don’t even know how to tell one of them, let alone all three.”
“Do you think they’ll be mad?”
“No,” I say instantly. “That’s the thing. Boone would probably start researching cribs. Chance would start installing panic rooms. Dillon would run, I don’t know, simulations or something. They’d take care of me. They always take care of me. I’m just—”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m scared of what this means. Of the danger. Of what Caruso might do if he finds us. Of being responsible for a tiny human when my life is already a dumpster fire.”
“Becoming a mom isn’t necessarily a dumpster fire.”
“Madison.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I love you and I’m happy for you. Mostly because you sound like you’re already halfway there and you just don’t want to admit it.”
“I’m terrified,” I whisper. “What the fuck do I know about being a mother? I don’t even have one.”
My chest constricts like one of the snakes outside has shot through the window and wrapped itself around me. Whatever air is in my lungs gets stuck.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Breathe, Rox. Just breathe. You’re brave as hell and you’re not doing this alone. I’m right here, and I can be there in a couple days if you need me. Plus, even if one of your mountain giants freaks out, you’ve got two more.”
My eyes sting when I open them again. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I love you. And you’re gonna be okay. Even if the father is, uh, plural.”
I groan. “Do not joke about that.”
“I am absolutely joking about that. Saving the rest for the baby shower.”
I flop back onto the pillows, covering my face. “Madison?”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t tell anyone yet.”
“Never. I promise.”
I lie there after we hang up, nerves and anticipation tightening my chest. Today. No more hiding.
I stare at the snowy peaks outside my window again, just trying to let reality settle, but long before it can, I know I have to get going. I still have a job to do, and if they haven’t noticed anything yet, they definitely will if I skip breakfast and stay in bed all day.
Even so, I linger in the bathroom a little longer than usual, trying to rehearse how I’ll tell them while I shower, then brush my teeth. I go through my normal routine at a snail’s pace. My brain goes around in circles while I floss, counting the ceiling tiles for focus.
Breakfast is the first real test. I join them in the kitchen, forcing a small smile as Boone fixes my tea and Dillon hands me a plate. I sit between Chance and Boone, taking tiny bites of scrambled eggs.
Every glance Boone throws my way makes my stomach flip. Just do it. Just say it. No, not yet.
At my desk later, I open my laptop and try to get to work. Emails, spreadsheets, the usual, but every ping of incoming mail and every notification on my phone makes me flinch. My mind is somewhere else entirely.
Lunch with Boone is even worse. I thought it would be easier, just the two of us. He chats casually while I push food around my plate, nodding and smiling, hoping I can hide the anxiety creeping up my spine. I open my mouth to speak, close it again, then take another bite.
Not now, Roxie. Not yet.
By the time the afternoon rolls around, I’ve given up pretending I’m fine. My hands hover over the keyboard, my mind a jumble of excuses and rehearsed sentences. Every time I try to start, my courage fizzles. I keep chickening out.
Yet with every passing hour, the weight of what I have to do presses a little harder against my chest. I can’t avoid it forever. I just don’t know if I can do it today.
Dinner feels impossibly long. I try to summon the words, taking bites of food that may as well be cardboard. The guys talk around me, but their conversation is stilted. Like they already know.
Finally, at that thought, something in me snaps. I set my fork down, draw in a shaky breath, and just blurt it out.
“I’m pregnant.”
All three of them go totally stock-still, their eyes widening as they look at me. My hands twist nervously in my lap. “You’re the only men I’ve been with in, uh, a very long time. So it has to be one of yours.”
My voice quivers, but I keep going. “I’m about, uh, five weeks along. I think I got pregnant the first time we—” I swallow hard. “The first time we were together.”
The room is silent, but I can see the shock etched across their faces and the way their jaws harden and their eyes lock on me like they suddenly see the world differently. And at that moment, I know nothing will ever be the same.
I just don’t know yet if that’s a good thing or a very, very bad one.