39. Rowan
ROWAN
At thirty-three weeks and four days pregnant with triplets, I'm losing an argument about standing in my own nursery.
Serena points toward the upholstered chair near the doorway. "You've been upright for forty-two minutes, and reorganizing drawers still counts as activity."
"I sat down while I folded the sleepers." I lower myself into the chair anyway because Zoya has spent most of the afternoon pushing into my ribs, while somebody else keeps finding my bladder with alarming accuracy. I adjust the pillow behind me and stretch my legs in front of the chair.
Serena looks toward Erik, who is kneeling beside the third crib with an Allen key in one hand. "Did she sit?"
Erik keeps his attention on the crib rail. "I'm not participating in this proceeding."
"Coward." I settle farther into the chair while Serena closes the tablet containing today's blood-pressure readings.
"Your numbers have behaved for three weeks, all three babies are growing, and Callan has closed part of the gap with his sisters.
" Serena puts the tablet into her bag and gives me the look she's perfected over the last several months.
"I'd like to continue that trend without you testing how long you can stay on your feet. "
"I have class tomorrow." I rest one hand over the top of my stomach when Maren shifts beneath it.
"You have one seminar online." Serena reaches for her coat. "You reduced your course load because carrying triplets while pretending to be a full-time student was becoming ridiculous."
I look at her. "I never used the word ridiculous."
"I did." Serena slips one arm into her coat while Erik finishes securing the crib rail and tests it before standing.
"She also intends to review a scholarship contract after class." He straightens and sets the Allen key on the dresser.
I turn toward him. "That was private information."
"You left it on the kitchen table with three notes for Liya." Erik picks up the instruction sheet Peter abandoned earlier and folds it once.
"That doesn't make it public." I point at him before Serena can enjoy this too much.
Serena points between us. "You can litigate confidentiality after I leave. Rowan, you call immediately for regular contractions, leaking fluid, bleeding, severe headache, vision changes, or anything else on the list you already have."
"I know the list." I've known it well enough for weeks that I can recite it without checking the copy on my phone.
"I know you know it." Serena picks up her bag and heads for the door. "That hasn't stopped either of you from asking me the same questions through slightly different language."
She leaves before I can defend myself, which is probably deliberate.
The nursery has changed every week since the wall came down.
Three cribs now line the long side beneath framed prints Callie chose after rejecting anything she considered too babyish, which seems like a strange standard for a room intended for actual babies.
The closet has lower shelving because I refused to spend the next year asking Erik to reach everything above my head.
A wide chair sits between the windows for feedings, and the dresser contains enough diapers to survive a regional shortage.
Peter is sitting on the floor beside the third crib, reading the instruction sheet he claims is incorrect. He points to one drawing when Erik hands the paper back. "This illustration reverses the side rail."
"You reversed the side rail." Erik rotates the page in Peter's direction and taps the diagram.
Peter looks offended. "I assembled the first two without difficulty."
"That doesn't prove the third crib is defective." Erik leans one shoulder against the dresser while Peter studies the picture again.
Peter looks toward me for support. "You saw me follow the instructions."
"I saw you throw the instructions under the crib for twenty minutes." I shift my feet onto the ottoman and enjoy the glare that earns me.
"That was after I established they were unreliable." Peter folds the paper with more force than necessary.
Mom enters through the connecting room carrying folded blankets. Callie follows with another stack and stops when she sees Peter still sitting on the floor. "You're still building that?"
Peter looks up at her. "I'm correcting a manufacturing problem."
Callie puts the blankets into the dresser before glancing at Erik. "You fixed it yesterday after he left."
Peter turns slowly toward Erik.
Erik doesn't bother denying it. "The side rail was reversed."
"You allowed me to spend an hour on it today." Peter gets to his feet with enough dignity to imply the crib has personally wronged him.
"You insisted nobody touch your work." Erik takes the Allen key off the dresser and puts it into the small tool case.
Mom looks between them before wisely redirecting the conversation. She sets her blankets beside Callie's stack and opens the closet. "I think we need another shelf."
Erik reaches automatically for his phone.
I point at him from the chair. "You're not calling anyone until I decide where it goes."
His phone remains in his hand, but he doesn't unlock it. "Where do you want it?"
"Lower than the others. I need to reach it without climbing." I indicate the open section beneath the hanging rail. "There, but leave enough room underneath for baskets."
Erik waits until I finish before taking a photograph. "I'll ask the carpenter to put it there."
Callie watches him type the message. "He's become surprisingly trainable."
Erik sends it before looking at her. "I dislike that description."
"That's why I keep using it." Callie sits on the edge of the window seat and stretches her legs in front of her.
I rest one arm over the top of my stomach while the babies rearrange themselves again.
Zoya moves most in the mornings. Maren becomes active after dinner, and Callan has spent the last month objecting whenever Erik speaks close to me.
Nobody has decided whether our son likes his father's voice or wants him to stop talking.
I'm leaning toward the second explanation.
Liya arrives before dinner carrying documents from the foundation's new scholarship program. She puts them on a table across the room so Serena can't accuse me of working, then joins the inspection of the nursery.
"The first applications open next month." Liya picks up one of Mom's folded blankets, considers it, then returns it precisely where she found it. "Independent reviewers handle selection. No Bennett or Danilov can influence an award."
"That would've pleased Dad." I glance toward the folder she deliberately placed out of reach.
Mom sits in the chair beside mine. "He probably would've objected to having his name on the program. Your father never liked recognition."
"Aaron would've corrected the application punctuation." I look at Liya. "Did outside counsel approve the eligibility language?"
"Yes." Liya closes the folder even though I haven't moved toward it. "You're not reading it today."
"I wasn't asking for it." I shift carefully when Callan presses low enough to make sitting uncomfortable.
Liya watches me adjust the pillow. "You were about to."
I don't bother lying.
Harper arrives with Makari shortly before dinner. She comes through the foyer first, talking about a faculty recommendation, while Makari follows with his good hand resting at the center of her back.
Nobody needs an announcement.
He's attended family dinner often enough over the last three months that even Peter has stopped asking why he's there. Harper has also stopped pretending she accidentally leaves with him afterward.
Callie looks at me across the entry hall and opens her mouth.
I shake my head before she can say anything.
Harper catches the exchange anyway. She takes off her scarf and narrows her attention on both of us. "You two are terrible at pretending you don't have an opinion."
Makari takes her coat from her shoulders. "They've never pretended very hard."
"You spent a month pretending this wasn't a relationship." Harper turns toward him after he hangs the coat beside his.
Makari remains beside her instead of retreating from the subject. "I didn't define it for other people."
"You introduced me to a federal prosecutor as someone important to you." Harper folds her arms, although the effect is ruined by the smile she's trying not to show.
Makari looks entirely unbothered. "That was accurate."
Callie presses her lips together hard enough that I start laughing.
Makari notices immediately. "You have something to say?"
"No." Callie gets herself under control and reaches for a glass from the console table. "I value my continued access to your security detail."
Harper slips her arm through his. "She's lying."
"I know." Makari covers Harper's hand briefly with his own before leading her toward the dining room.
Dinner fills the long table again after weeks of nursery construction. Serena stays because Mom invited her, which means I have my obstetrician directly across from me while Peter argues that crib manufacturers should be required to use written instructions instead of diagrams.
Liya cuts into her chicken. "The instructions contained both."
Peter points his fork toward her. "The written section contradicted the picture."
Erik reaches for his water. "It didn't."
"You weren't there for the first assembly." Peter lowers his fork and looks toward him.
"I own the house." Erik takes a drink without appearing concerned by the logic gap.
Peter gives him a long look. "That doesn't make you omniscient."
I reach for my own water and stop when pressure wraps around my abdomen.
Braxton Hicks contractions have been part of my life for weeks. They usually make my stomach hard for a while, annoy me, then disappear. This one makes me put the glass down without drinking and wait for my body to release.
Erik notices immediately. He sets down his fork and turns toward me. "What happened?"
"Nothing unusual." I stay in the same position instead of trying to adjust around it.