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CHAPTER THIRTY

Brooks

Ally’s belly is much larger, a beautiful, round testament to the new life we’re all waiting to meet at any day now.

Every night has become its own rhythm, a rotation of Ally spending time in each of our beds. It’s seamless, natural, and somehow, it never feels strange or forced.

We’ve called off group sessions until the babies are born. Ally’s belly is getting far too big and the doctor has been clear about the need for her to take it easy now that she’s late into the pregnancy.

We’ve fallen into a kind of unspoken harmony, each of us feeling loved and fulfilled by her in a way we never thought possible.

I’ve caught myself marveling at how effortless this all feels, how right it is. The way she lights up every room she enters, the way her laughter echoes through the house, making it a home, it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

And as her due date has crept closer, I’ve found myself feeling a new kind of excitement, one I haven’t felt in years. The idea of holding those babies in my arms, of seeing Ally as a mother, it’s almost overwhelming.

The quiet of the night is shattered by Ally’s sharp intake of breath.

I jolt awake, disoriented, as a cool dampness seeps through the sheets. Ally groans, clutching her belly, her face pale in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Brooks,” she gasps, her voice tight with panic. “My water…it broke.”

It takes me a second to process her words, but when it clicks, I’m on my feet in an instant. “Okay, okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Are you okay?”

She cuts me off with another groan, her hand flying to her belly. “I think…I think the contractions are starting. They’re close together already.”

I grab the hospital bags we packed weeks ago, flinging them over my shoulder. I’m grateful that I’m out of the huge leg brace now. It’s much easier to do things like this.

I look at Ally, her face contorted in pain but her eyes sharp with determination. “We’re going now,” I tell her, my voice firm. “Stay with me, Ally.”

I rush out of the bedroom, yelling for Nick and Tyler at the top of my lungs. Their doors swing open almost simultaneously, both of them disheveled but instantly alert.

“Ally’s water broke!” I shout, motioning them toward the bedroom. “We need to move, now!”

They’re at her side in seconds, Tyler gently helping her sit up while Nick steadies her from the other side. Her breathing is shallow, her face scrunched in pain.

“I’ve got you,” Tyler murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’re going to get you to the hospital, Ally.”

Nick grabs her other arm, and together they guide her toward the stairs, her small frame supported between them. I dart ahead, throwing open the front door and starting the SUV.

The engine roars to life, the headlights cutting through the dark night as I hobble quickly back inside.

The twins carefully help Ally down the stairs, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Her arm is draped over both of them, and every so often, she squeezes their shoulders as another contraction ripples through her.

I open the SUV’s back door, and Nick helps Tyler ease her into the seat.

“Breathe, Ally,” Nick says, his voice calm but firm. “In and out. We’re almost there.”

Tyler climbs into the back with her, his hand firmly holding hers. I slide into the passenger seat as Nick takes the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he pulls out of the driveway.

The tires screech slightly as we hit the main road, the SUV hurtling toward the hospital.

The hum of the highway fills the car, punctuated by Ally’s soft groans and Nick’s occasional instructions to breathe. Tyler leans close to her, brushing her hair out of her face and whispering soothing words.

“Just a little longer,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion as I glance back. “We’re almost there.”

Her hand clutches Tyler’s shirt tightly as another contraction hits, her eyes closing against the pain. Nick floors the gas pedal, the SUV roaring through the empty streets.

“Don’t kill us on the way there, dude,” Tyler says from the backseat.

“Just take care of Ally and let me drive,” Nick shoots back.

Finally, the SUV screeches to a halt in front of the emergency room entrance. Nick turns to us. “Go, I’ll park the car and be right behind you.”

I leap out of the car, rushing to Ally’s side as Tyler opens the door on her side. She’s holding her belly, her breaths short and shallow.

I scoop her up under her arms, nearly carrying her as Tyler grabs the hospital bags from the trunk and follows. The sliding doors whoosh open, and we’re met with the stark brightness of the emergency room.

The air smells of industrial-strength cleaners, medication, and stale coffee as the low hum of a vending machine adds to the chaotic noise of the waiting area.

Faces turn toward us, some curious, some concerned. I stride to the receptionist desk, Ally practically draped over me.

“She’s in labor,” I manage, my voice thick with urgency.

The receptionist barely flinches, grabbing a clipboard. “Name and due date?” she asks.

“Ally…Ally Perry, due date is…well, now!” I say as Ally groans, and I grit my teeth, about to snap at the woman to move faster, but a nurse appears with a wheelchair.

The nurse gestures to the chair, and I help Ally lower herself into it. She leans back, her face pale and damp with sweat.

Tyler is at her other side, his hand on her shoulder, murmuring reassurances as I grip the back of the wheelchair.

“Follow me,” the nurse says, leading us through a set of swinging doors.

Tyler tries to walk through with us, but a security guard blocks him. “Sorry, sir. Only the father and immediate next of kin are allowed past this point.”

I glance back at Tyler, his expression crushed, but he nods, understanding. “Go with her,” he says, his voice steady, though his eyes betray his disappointment. “We’ll be here.”

I give him a quick nod and grab the bags he hands me. “I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”

“Take care of her,” Tyler says quietly, and I nod again, my throat tightening as I turn back to Ally.

The nurse wheels Ally down a quiet corridor into the maternity area. The lights are softer here, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescent glare of the ER. I follow close behind, every step feeling heavier than the last.

“Brooks?” Ally calls rather frantically, her voice thin and trembling.

“I’m here, Ally,” I say, leaning down to brush her damp hair from her face. “I’m right here with you.”

She groans as another contraction takes her. “We have to tell my dad,” she gasps. “They’re coming…they’re coming fast.”

“We’ll tell him as soon as we can,” I promise, squeezing her hand. “But let’s focus on you and the babies right now.”

The nurse pushes the wheelchair into a spacious, private birthing room. It’s nicer than I expected, almost like a hotel suite.

There’s a large bed in the center, surrounded by sleek medical equipment. To the side, a plush couch beckons, clearly meant for partners and family.

A doctor strides in, a warm smile lighting up her face. “Hi, Ally. I’m Dr. Rivera. Congratulations! You’re about to meet your babies!”

Ally groans, clutching the edge of the bed as I help her onto it.

Dr. Rivera snaps on a pair of gloves and checks Ally quickly. Her expression shifts to one of calm urgency. “The babies are ready. One is already almost crowning.”

The room bursts into sudden motion as if it was choreographed. Nurses flood in, their hands full of supplies. The hum of monitors fills the air, and Ally’s breathing grows louder, more strained.

“I want an epidural,” Ally pleads, her voice breaking.

Dr. Rivera shakes her salt and pepper head gently. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s too late for that. These babies are ready to meet you now.”

Ally cries out, tears spilling down her cheeks as I take her hand.

“You’ve got this,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “I love you so much.”

“Push!” the doctor commands, and Ally screams, squeezing my hand like a vice.

Within minutes, the first baby’s cry pierces the room, a boy, dark hair thickly covering his head. I feel my heart swell as they place him on Ally’s chest. She sobs, touching his tiny face.

There’s a few moments of wonder as we all meet this new life. I feel tears slipping down my cheeks as I kiss Ally and place my hand over the baby’s tiny head.

“Oh, shit,” Ally protests a bit weakly as another contraction ripples through her.

“Push again, Ally. You’re doing amazing!” Dr. Rivera urges.

After a few more minutes of cursing and pushing, Ally breathes a sigh of relief again.

Another cry fills the room. It’s another boy, this time bright blonde. Tears stream down my face as I kiss Ally’s temple.

“I’m so tired,” she says softly to me as she holds the two babies.

“You can do this,” I tell her. “There’s just one more to deliver.”

“There’d better only be one more,” she quips. “Or else I’m going to be very, very annoyed.”

I laugh a little, helping give the first two babies back to a waiting nurse as the contractions hit Ally again.

“Last one, Ally. You’ve got this, c’mon!” Dr. Rivera encourages.

Finally, after a more protracted effort, a third cry rings out. It’s a girl this time, her tiny head covered in bright red curls.

Ally collapses back, exhausted, as I cradle her head, kissing her repeatedly. “You did it, Ally. They’re here. I love you. Two boys and a girl, Ally!”

I push through the swinging doors, nearly toppling a doctor as I leave the soft chaos of the delivery room behind me. My legs feel like lead, my chest tight with emotion as I make my way back to the waiting area.

The fluorescent lights feel harsh compared to the dimly-lit calm of Ally’s room, and the buzz of the ER is a sharp contrast to the quiet awe I left behind.

There they are, Nick and Tyler, pacing the length of the room like caged lions. Tyler’s hands run through his hair repeatedly, and Nick’s arms are crossed so tightly I’m surprised he hasn’t pulled a muscle.

I stop short, taking in the scene for a second before speaking. “They’re here,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “The babies are here.”

They both freeze, turning toward me with wide, eager eyes. “What?” Nick asks, almost disbelieving.

“Two boys and a girl,” I say excitedly, my face breaking into a grin.

“Two boys and a girl!” Tyler yells back, throwing his arms in the air. The people around us glance up in curiosity, but we don’t care.

The twins rush over to me, practically tackling me in a group hug. “Are they okay? Is Ally okay?”

“They’re all perfect, beautiful and healthy,” I say, choking on my words, and before I can say more, Tyler grabs my arm, and we all rush down the hallway together toward the maternity ward.

As we head back, my thoughts swirl. The whole experience feels surreal.

It’s like time both sped up and stood still in that delivery room. I can’t believe how fast everything happened, yet it felt like an eternity waiting for each baby’s first cry.

It’s strange, too, how this moment, a moment I once imagined with someone else, feels so right, even though it’s nothing like what I expected.

This life with Ally, Nick, and Tyler…it’s unconventional, sure, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

When we reach Ally’s room, I push the door open to find her sitting up in the hospital bed, cradling one of the babies in her arms while the others lie swaddled in the bassinets beside her.

Her face is glowing, her exhaustion overshadowed by the pure love radiating from her eyes.

I step aside to let the twins in, and they flock to her instantly, both of them pressing kisses to her cheeks and hands as they coo over the babies.

The twins are beside themselves, practically buzzing with excitement as they lean over the bassinets to look at the babies.

Tyler points to the baby boy closest to him. “I call dibs on this one.”

Nick shoots him a look. “That’s not how it works, dumbass.”

Tyler grins. “Why not? He already looks like a little troublemaker. Clearly, he’s mine.”

“You don’t get to ‘call’ a baby,” I say, shaking my head, but I can’t help laughing at them. “They’re all ours. Together.”

Ally chuckles softly, adjusting the baby in her arms. “They’re right, you know. You’re going to have to share.”

The twins exchange sheepish grins but quickly go back to marveling at the babies, their excitement undiminished.

Nick strokes the tiny hand of the baby girl, his eyes soft and full of wonder. Tyler gently touches the cheek of one of the boys, his face lighting up with a grin when the baby stirs.

I step closer to Ally, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You did amazing,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You’re incredible.”

She smiles up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I glance at the twins, who are still entranced by the babies. “Without us,” I correct softly.

Ally nods, her smile widening. “Without us.”

I kiss her again, this time on the lips, savoring the warmth and love between us. As I pull back, I ask, “So…ready to start planning the wedding?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Give me some time to adjust to having triplets first, Brooks. One life change at a time.”

I chuckle, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Fair enough. There’s no rush.”

I glance at Nick and Tyler, and our eyes meet. There’s a silent understanding between us, an acknowledgment of everything we’ve built together.

They both blow playful kisses to Ally, making her laugh again.

This is our family, and it’s perfect.

Perfectly us.