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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kenzie

The SUV feels cramped, despite its massive frame.

The rich aroma of the leather seats is interwoven with the sharp, woodsy notes of Ambrose’s aftershave, creating a heady mix alongside Reggie’s spicy cologne and the crisp, sweet scent of Braden’s spearmint gum.

Pregnancy has really made my olfactory nerves go into overdrive.

I swear I can smell just as well as a bloodhound right now. I occupy the passenger seat, my fingers nervously twisting the soft fabric of my sweater, my stomach churning with an uneasy energy that outstrips any morning sickness I've experienced.

I never imagined myself in this particular scenario, on the way to my first prenatal appointment accompanied by three men who are all equally committed to the journey ahead.

It's been several weeks since I took the plunge and moved into Ambrose’s sprawling house.

Surprisingly, the arrangement works seamlessly. We rise with the sun, share breakfast, and navigate daily life in a newfound harmony. The ease of it all is almost unsettling.

At the rink, my colleagues remain blissfully unaware, never questioning why I consistently appear with a trio of the players, and we've certainly made no effort to enlighten them.

They take turns helping at the clinic. I keep telling them that my hand is healed and I don’t need help anymore, but they just keep showing up.

The regulars already adore them, a fact which makes me smile in spite of my worry that they shouldn’t have to help me run my business like this.

Braden taps a staccato rhythm on his thigh, the restless energy practically sparking off of him.

“You good?” he asks, his voice a quiet concern amidst the charged silence.

I nod, the motion doing little to dislodge the tight lump lodged in my throat.

Reggie’s grin is infectious, reflected in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to hear the wee one’s heartbeat today. Ye realize how insane that is?” His Scottish lilt dances through the words, his enthusiasm palpable.

I meet his gaze, a reluctant smile pulling at my lips. His excitement is impossible to resist.

Ambrose reaches across the console, his hand finding my knee. His touch is steady, grounding.

“We’ve got you, Kenz,” he assures me.

I nod again, tightening my grip on his fingers, yet my pulse is still like a rapid drumbeat.

This moment is real, and it's unfolding right now.

The waiting room is awash with harsh fluorescent lights that reflect off the pristine white walls, casting a sterile glow over everything. Couples fill the room, their murmuring conversations blending into a soft hum.

The chairs, upholstered in muted blue fabric, offer little comfort as I fidget to find a bearable position.

In my lap, a clipboard holds a thick stack of paperwork. My gaze is fixed on one particular question: Father’s Name?

I nibble on my lower lip, the rhythm of my heart pounding in my ears.

Beside me, Braden's pen scratches lightly as he absentmindedly doodles on the glossy edge of a magazine, the ink forming swirls and shapes.

Reggie leans over, his elbow brushing mine. “It’s none of their business,” he whispers, his voice low and reassuring. “Leave it blank.”

Ambrose, sitting on my other side, shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. “They might need to know for medical reasons,” he reasons, his tone cautious.

Braden lets out a derisive snort, flipping a page of the magazine with a casual flick. “You really think the doctor's gonna say, ‘Oh no, this baby has three potential dads, guess we can’t do an ultrasound’?” he quips, a smirk playing on his lips.

Despite my anxiety, a small laugh escapes me, easing some of the tension. The receptionist’s voice cuts through the room as she calls out another patient’s name, and I take a moment to glance around.

Expectant mothers sit with their partners, fingers intertwined, heads resting on shoulders, embodying the conventional image of parenthood.

A lump forms in my throat.

We don’t fit that mold.

We are not traditional by any stretch.

I draw in a deep, shaky breath, resolve hardening within me. With a final glance at the form, I decide to leave the father section blank and rise to hand the clipboard to the receptionist.

Braden nudges me playfully as I return to my seat, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “See? Easy,” he teases.

I shoot him a glare, though a smile tugs at my lips. “I hate you,” I retort, my voice laced with mock irritation.

He chuckles, his grin widening. “Nah, you love me,” he replies, a warmth in his eyes that I can't deny.

The door swings open with a soft whoosh, and a young nurse with honey-blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and sharp brown eyes steps confidently into the room.

She glances down at her clipboard, scanning the list of names before calling out in a clear voice, “Kenzie Wood?”

I stand up from the stiff waiting room chair, and immediately, all three guys, Reggie, Braden, and Ambrose, rise from their seats beside me, their movements almost synchronized.

The nurse blinks in surprise, her eyebrows raising slightly. “Uh, okay. All of you can…come back, I guess,” she says, a hint of confusion in her tone.

I shoot her an apologetic smile, feeling a bit embarrassed as we trail behind her down the long, narrow hallway. The scent of rubbing alcohol and latex gloves intensifies with each step, combining with the sterile coldness that seems to seep from the white-tiled floors and walls.

She stops in front of a scale, gesturing for me to step on. “Step up for your weight.”

I comply, feeling the eyes of the three guys on my back, each of them awkwardly shifting their gaze, pretending not to watch.

I step off quickly, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

Reggie leans casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Didn’t realize we were all getting judged here,” he comments, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

The nurse just hums noncommittally, jotting something down on her clipboard before gesturing for us to follow her into the exam room. The paper on the examination table crinkles loudly as I sit down, my palms clammy and pressed against my thighs.

She moves efficiently as she takes my vitals, cool fingers pressing gently against my wrist while the blood pressure cuff squeezes my arm with a firm grip, almost uncomfortably tight.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she says, casting another curious glance at the trio accompanying me before exiting the room.

Braden chuckles, leaning back in the chair he’s claimed. “Think we freaked her out?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I roll my eyes, trying to appear unaffected, but my heart is pounding in my chest, a relentless drumbeat that betrays my nerves.

The door swings open with a gentle creak, and Dr. Patel enters the room, exuding both warmth and professionalism. She’s a woman in her fifties, her dark hair meticulously pinned into a sleek bun, and her glasses rest firmly on her nose, giving her an air of authority.

She surveys us with a discerning look, her brow arching in curiosity. “Well, this is a first,” she remarks, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and amusement.

My throat tightens, and I can feel the heat rising up my neck, spreading across my cheeks. Dr. Patel flips through the pages of my chart with practiced ease, her eyes flicking back to us with interest.

“So, which one of you is the father?” she asks, her tone both clinical and gentle.

The room falls into a profound silence. Braden shifts uncomfortably beside me, then leans forward, his voice unwavering as he speaks. “We’re all here for Kenzie, Doc.”

Dr. Patel studies our group intently, her gaze softening as understanding dawns. She nods, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “All right then.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling the tension slowly unravel from my shoulders. She rolls the ultrasound machine towards us, the wheels gliding smoothly over the tiled floor.

“You guys excited to hear the baby’s heartbeat?” she asks, her voice brightening with enthusiasm.

Reggie’s face lights up with a wide grin. “Aye, can’t bloody wait,” he exclaims, his accent adding a cheerful lilt to his words.

Ambrose squeezes my hand reassuringly, his touch grounding me. And for the first time in what feels like forever, a profound sense of safety envelops me, filling the room with its comforting presence.

The gel on my stomach is a cold, sticky discomfort, sending a shiver through me as I lean back against the crinkling paper-covered exam table. The dim ultrasound screen casts a soft blue glow, flickering with static before Dr. Patel deftly maneuvers the probe across my lower abdomen, her eyes focused and steady.

“All right,” she murmurs, her voice a calm reassurance. “Let’s see what we have here.”

The room holds its breath in silence, and then, suddenly, the rhythmic, whooshing sound of a heartbeat fills the air, a gentle symphony echoing through the small space.

My heart skips a beat, and I gasp, my fingers instinctively tightening around Ambrose’s hand.

It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, a melody of life itself.

“There’s your little one,” Dr. Patel says with a small, knowing smile, adjusting the wand slightly over my skin.

And then, unexpectedly, another heartbeat joins the first.

And then, yet another.

I frown, confusion knitting my brow. “Uh…was that an echo?” I ask, glancing at Dr. Patel for clarification.

Dr. Patel chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Nope. That’s baby number two.”

My stomach lurches in surprise. The boys beside me freeze, holding their breath as the realization sinks in.

She moves the probe once more, her eyes scanning the screen.

“And…baby number three.”

The room erupts into a cacophony of disbelief and excitement. Braden yelps, running a hand through his hair in shock. “Jesus H. Christ!” he exclaims, eyes wide with astonishment.

Reggie bursts into laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth to contain the sound. “Aye, that’s some prolific breeding we did!” he says, amusement coloring his tone.

Ambrose just stares at the screen, his eyes wide as saucers, trying to process the news.

I sit up slightly, a grin spreading across my face. “See? Plenty of baby love to go around,” I say, my voice brimming with joy.

Reggie snickers, nudging me playfully. “What about the cat?” he teases.

I smirk, feeling a new sense of camaraderie and adventure. “Momma and I are gonna be mommas together,” I reply, envisioning a future filled with bustling energy and shared memories.

Braden groans, but the pure joy in his expression is unmistakable, a testament to the unexpected yet welcome turn our lives have taken.

Dr. Patel hands me a folder thick with colorful pamphlets and neatly typed instructions. “I want you to take it easy,” she says, her voice gentle yet firm. “Increase your calorie intake, and start thinking about your birthing plan.”

“Plan?” I blink, trying to process her words. “I just found out I’m having triplets. I barely have a coherent thought process right now.”

She chuckles, a sound that feels like a soft pat on the back. “That’s fair. But schedule your next appointments soon, okay?”

I nod, still in a daze, as I push myself up from the exam table. The boys gather protectively around me, their eyes wide as if I’ve suddenly transformed into something as delicate as spun glass.

Reggie grins from ear to ear, his gaze flitting between the now-dark ultrasound screen and my stomach. “I cannae believe it. Three of ‘em.”

Braden gives him a light elbow jab. “Three. Like one for each of us.”

Reggie smirks, his eyes dancing with mischief. “We must’ve all gotten her pregnant at the same time, eh?”

Ambrose rolls his eyes and groans. “That’s not how that works, dumbass.”

Braden shrugs, throwing me a playful wink. “Still, hell of a team effort.”

I snort, rolling my eyes with amusement. “All right, let’s get me out of here before you start with the locker room jokes.”

They each take a hand or offer an arm, treating me like I’ve suddenly become a fragile relic, which is hilarious, considering I walked in here on my own.

Still, I don’t complain.

Because deep down, I can tell that they’re already falling in love with these babies.

Back in the car, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement. Braden grips the steering wheel, his fingers drumming out a rapid rhythm as if trying to match the beat of his racing thoughts.

Reggie sits beside him, eyes glued to the ultrasound pictures, his grin stretching from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning.

“So,” Reggie says, his smile so wide it seems to light up the car, as he waves the glossy ultrasound photos. “We’re officially placing bets on what the bairns will look like.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Ambrose, sitting in the back seat, raises a questioning brow. “You’re betting on our kids now?”

Braden’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Bro, you knew this was gonna happen.”

Reggie nods, his expression mock-serious as if he’s discussing world affairs. “It’s inevitable.”

Ambrose lets out a sigh, his exasperation tinged with amusement. “Fine. What are the stakes?”

Reggie leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hair color. Eye color. Hockey skills.”

“Hockey skills?” I laugh, a sharp bark of disbelief. “They’re fetuses, Reggie.”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “No harm in getting a head start.”

Braden glances at me through the rearview mirror, his grin infectious. “You in, Kenz?”

I cross my arms, a fond smile playing on my lips. “It figures that sports betting is what finally got you guys to process this.”

Ambrose chuckles, shaking his head in agreement. “She’s not wrong.”

Reggie rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Aye, but I say we make it interesting.”

Braden winks, a competitive gleam in his eye. “Oh, it’s on.”

I roll my eyes, a blend of exasperation and affection, as I rub my belly gently.

These babies have no idea what they’re in for.