Page 176 of Babies for the Big Shot

Nick’s office? At the kitchen table.

Samuel in one arm. A Zoom meeting in full swing with his shirtdefinitelynot on under that bathrobe.

I’m sitting at the counter, hunched over my laptop. Back to freelancing.

Mostly for companies who don’t seem to care about deadlines, but who also send the mostawfulfeedback. You know, the kind that makes you want to go home, slap on a cozy hoodie, and bury your head in a pile of laundry.

Instead, I drink too much coffee and eat the banana muffins I somehow managed to bake this morning after surviving a sleep-deprived nightmare with three babies.

The muffins are the only thing in my life I have control over, and let’s be real: they’re probably the only reason I’m still awake.

Thank God for Evelyn.

Her voice carries softly through the nursery, wrapping around the room in a gentle hug.

“‘In the deep, dark woods, where shadows play, the creatures come out when night turns to day…’” she reads, her tone smooth, weaving a spell.

I glance over, watching her carefully, as if every word she speaks is important. Lily stirs slightly in her arms, her small fingers curling around the fabric of her sweater, as if even she knows there’s something soothing in her voice.

“‘They climb the trees, they swim the streams, they fly on wings and dance on beams,’” Evelyn continues, her eyes scanning the page. She looks up at Ethan in his basket, her gaze soft but intense, trying to paint the world she’s reading about into their little minds.

I smile without meaning to, watching her. There’s something powerful in how she can take a sweet little story and turn it into something magical.

“‘One by one, the stars do fall, lighting the world for one and all. But beware, child, of the shadows near, for when the moon is full, they come to fear.’”

I don’t knowwhatwe’d do without her. She really has been a lifesaver.

Not like Meatball, who’s currently snoring at my feet, no doubt planning his next protest against our parenting.

And the wedding planning.

Planning a wedding while you’ve got triplets crying in your ears and a fiancé who keeps accidentally leaving his Zoom meetings onmutefor forty-five minutes while wearing a bathrobe and cradling a baby is not exactly straightforward.

Suddenly, Samuel makes a noise

A low grumble followed by an unmistakable splat. I glance over at Nick. He freezes mid-meeting, his brow furrowed in thatserious, CEO mode, eyes locked on the screen as if he’s trying to pretend this isn’t happening.

Too late.

The smell hits before the look of sheer horror takes over his face. I can’t help it, I’m already laughing.

“Nick!” I say between giggles. “Come on, we have to change him. That sounded terrible.”

Samuel slumps into full meltdown mode, his little face scrunched up in that“I just destroyed my diaper”way that’s both pitiful and hilarious at the same time. He starts wailing, performing a concert for the ages.

“I, uh, I… just a minute, team,” Nick says into his laptop, trying to act calm as he rocks Samuel, who’s clearly not cooperating.

I can barely hear the conference call as I continue to watch him shift uncomfortably. It’s taking him way too long to realize that he’s about to need a lot more than just a few quick minutes.

“Just… one second,” he mutters, tapping on his screen as he tries to turn off his mic. But the more he struggles with it, the messier the situation gets.

Samuel kicks his tiny legs, and I swear to God, it’s leaking out of the side of his diaper.

I can’t stop laughing.

“Did you seriously just forget to mute yourself?” I ask, unable to hold it in.

Nick groans and hits the wrong button. His face is turning as red as a tomato.