Page 31

CHAPTER THIRTY

Kenzie

I've been feeling contractions all day, but honestly? I'm not worried.

They aren't close together, and I'm convinced they're just Braxton-Hicks, those little practice rounds for the real deal.

I stretch out on the couch, my body sinking into the worn cushions, and rest my hands over my enormous belly.

The skin feels taut, stretched so tight I imagine I could pop like an overfilled balloon at any moment.

"You know," I smirk, glancing between the three men doting on me like mother hens, "I don't even know which one of you to blame for this."

Reggie, with his boyish grin and tousled hair, kneels at my feet, gently rubbing them. "Yer welcome, lass ," he says with a wink.

Braden, lounging against the armrest with a casual elegance, chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles over my swollen stomach. "Whoever you don't kill during delivery can officially claim the babies," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ambrose, ever the grump with his perpetual frown and crossed arms, just snorts. "We're not claiming anything. These kids belong to all of us," he declares with a gruff but tender resolve.

My heart clenches a little, filled with love for them.

I breathe through another contraction, a small twinge of pain rippling through me, but still, it’s nothing serious.

They watch me carefully, like hawks circling their prey, their concern palpable in the air.

"Relax," I groan, rolling my eyes at their intensity. "I told you, it's just false labor. I feel totally…” Suddenly I feel a gush of warm liquid spreads over my leggings, soaking them instantly. Oh.

"Uh, guys?" I say, my voice jumping up an octave, a mix of surprise and excitement. "I think my water just broke."

All three men freeze, their eyes wide with shock, as if I just announced the house was ablaze. Reggie springs up from the couch, his face a mask of panic.

"Shite!" he shouts, his voice cracking as he bolts upright.

Ambrose reacts without hesitation, snatching up the hospital bags we meticulously packed weeks ago in preparation for this moment. Braden is already at my side, gently helping me to my feet.

He slides a supportive arm under my shoulders, his other hand pressed firmly against the small of my back, offering both stability and comfort.

"Breathe, love," he instructs softly, his voice a calming yet firm anchor in the storm of my rising anxiety.

"I am breathing!" I retort, my frustration mingling with the sharpness of a contraction that seems to claw its way through my abdomen with more intensity than before.

"We're not waiting," Ambrose declares, his determination clear as he moves swiftly, already heading for the door. "Time to go."

They guide me carefully out of the house, Reggie rushing ahead to pull the car up to the curb, while Braden and Ambrose maneuver me into the backseat with meticulous care.

The contractions are coming faster now, each one a fierce twist of pain that forces me to grip Braden’s hand with desperate strength.

"Call Dr. Patel’s office," I manage to say, my voice strained as I focus on breathing evenly through my nose.

Ambrose quickly retrieves his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as Reggie floors the accelerator, the tires screeching as we leave the driveway in a blur.

"Hey there. It's happening. Now," Ambrose relays urgently, the gravity of the situation hanging in the air as we speed towards the hospital.

He fields some more questions with growing impatience, and then gets off the phone.

As we screech to a halt in front of the hospital's entrance, my body is a battlefield of relentless contractions, each one sharper and more unforgiving than the last.

A nurse, dressed in crisp white scrubs, dashes out to meet us, a wheelchair in tow, her expression a mix of urgency and calm. Braden gently lifts me from the passenger seat, cradling me as if I'm made of porcelain.

“Damn, this is agony,” I gasp, my voice strained as another wave of pain crashes over me, leaving me breathless.

Braden leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a soothing balm. “I know, love. We’re here for you. You’re not alone.”

Amidst the chaos, Ambrose and Reggie spring into action, bustling around the entrance. They engage with the hospital staff, relaying my name, date of birth, and how far along I am in the pregnancy.

The nurse looks at me, her eyes searching for an answer. “Who’s coming in with her?” she asks, clipboard in hand.

I glance at my three companions, my skin glistening with sweat, my breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. “All three of them,” I reply, determination lacing my words.

She arches an eyebrow but then shrugs, a subtle smile gracing her lips. “All right. Hospital policy allows for whoever you need in the room.”

With a flourish, Ambrose scribbles their names on the sign-in sheet, and soon, the wheelchair is on the move, gliding down the bright, sterile corridors.

As we roll into the maternity suite, I’m struck by its resemblance to a luxury hotel room. A plush, adjustable bed dominates the center, flanked by a birthing tub that gleams under the soft lights.

Against the far wall, a pull-out sofa promises rest for weary supporters, and a private bathroom offers a sanctuary of privacy.

Reggie lets out an impressed whistle, his eyes wide with mock admiration. “Fancy place you got here!”

He chuckles, helping me onto the bed with a gentle hand. “But remember, you’re still footing the bill for dinner later,” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

I groan, struggling to maintain composure as I settle onto the bed. “Dinner? Reggie, if you mention food once more, I swear I will…”

My threat is cut short as another contraction seizes me, and instinctively, my hand clamps down on his with a ferocity that makes him yelp.

We’ve arrived.

The moment is upon us, and there's no turning back now.

Dr. Patel strides into the room, exuding an air of calm confidence, her white coat gently swaying as she approaches my bedside.

Her gentle yet firm hands move to check my vitals, the beeping of the monitor syncing with my heartbeat.

“All right, Kenzie,” she says with a warm, reassuring smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Let’s get you comfortable before we get to the fun part.”

I manage a small nod, but another contraction crashes over me like a tidal wave, forcing a choked-out groan from my lips as I curl forward, clutching my belly.

The epidural is a blessing. I feel the cold needle prick in my lower back, followed by the soothing flood of the numbing agent spreading through me like a cool stream.

Almost instantly, the sharp edges of pain melt away, leaving only a distant pressure.

When it comes time for the actual delivery, I find it surprisingly manageable, though it leaves me utterly drained. The boys are a constant source of strength and comfort, their whispers of encouragement buzzing in my ears.

Ambrose holds my hand tightly, his grip grounding me, while Reggie gently dabs the sweat from my forehead with a soft cloth. Braden is a ball of energy, practically bouncing on his feet, camera in hand, capturing every precious moment.

And then it happens.

The first baby emerges with a loud, strong wail, filling the room with its powerful cry.

Then another follows.

And finally, the last.

The room vibrates with the sound of three newborn cries, and a wave of relief washes over me, allowing me to finally exhale.

Tears blur my vision as Dr. Patel and the attentive nurses carefully hand over the tiny bundles, each swaddled snugly in soft, pastel blankets.

“They’re perfect,” I whisper, my voice raspy and thick with emotion.

“They have red hair!” Reggie exclaims, his excitement bubbling over as he practically vibrates with joy. “All three of ‘em!”

Braden, still busy snapping pictures, chuckles. “So do most newborns, man.”

The nurses nod in agreement, but Reggie shakes his head, his face alight with pride. “Nah, mate. They’re mine. At least one of ‘em is mine!”

Ambrose lets out a joyful, tear-filled laugh and leans in to press a tender kiss to my temple.

Just then, a soft knock echoes from the door.

I glance up, exhaustion weighing on my eyelids but adrenaline keeping me alert, as the wooden door creaks open with a drawn-out groan.

And then, I almost let my baby slip from my arms as surprise jolts through me. My mom and dad peek their heads around the doorframe, their expressions a mix of sheepishness and hesitation, as if they're unsure of their welcome.

“Kenzie?” my mom murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we come in?”

I blink rapidly, the shock rendering me momentarily speechless. Beside me, the boys go rigid, their eyes fixed on the doorway, watching intently with a mix of curiosity and caution.

I hesitate, my mind racing, but then I notice it: the genuine regret swimming in my mother’s eyes like a tide of apology, and the tentative hope in my father's posture, his shoulders slightly hunched but his feet inching forward.

Against all odds, I find myself saying, “Yeah. You can come in.” They step inside, their movements nervous but eager, like explorers setting foot on unfamiliar terrain.

My mom gasps, her hand flying to her chest, eyes wide with wonder. “Oh, my goodness. Look at them,” she breathes, her voice a mixture of awe and emotion. My dad, usually the rock of silence and stoicism, exhales a shaky breath, his voice unsteady. “They’re beautiful.”

Ambrose, ever the guardian, clears his throat in warning. “You’re not here to start trouble, right?” he asks, eyes narrowed slightly. My mom shakes her head vehemently, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“No. I, ” She turns to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” And just like that, the layers of resentment I've held onto for so long begin to peel away, revealing the tenderness beneath.

I nod, a silent acceptance of the olive branch that has been extended.

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, you don’t have any excuses now.” I arch an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Excuses for what?”

A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “All three of them are gorgeous, Kenzie. You’d be a fool not to marry at least one of them.”

I can't help but laugh, rolling my eyes at her teasing. “Fine. You can help plan the wedding.”

The room erupts into cheers.

As I press a gentle kiss to my babies’ soft heads, their warmth seeping into my skin, I realize I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.