Page 115 of Babies for the Big Shot

“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 fromwhat the helltookay, 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 ofQuints by Surpriseafter 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, andOh 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?