Page 92 of Triplet Babies
“That was different. You asked at six in the morning, and you know I don’t function before seven. Even when the babies want to nurse that early, I’m in Auto Mom mode.”
Elena watches this exchange with the serious attention she applies to everything, as if she’s taking notes on her parents’ relationship dynamics for future reference. She’s going to be the peacemaker, I can already tell. Mikhail will be the leader,Katrina will be the rebel, and Elena will be the one who keeps them all from killing each other.
The sun begins to set as we make our way back to the small inn where we’re staying tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll drive home to the house by the water in Connecticut, where we live a peaceful life.
I sold most of my business interests six months ago, keeping only the legitimate enterprises and leaving the rest to associates who understood my decision to step back. The money means nothing compared to the freedom to wake up every morning without wondering who might try to kill me that day.
“Do you ever miss it?” Sarah asks as we settle the babies in their car seats for the drive back to the inn.
“Miss what?”
“The excitement. The power. The feeling of controlling everything around you.”
I consider the question while buckling Mikhail’s complicated harness system. “I control everything that matters now—whether my children grow up feeling safe and loved, and my wife knows she’s the most important thing in my world, if we have dinner together every night, and what bedtime stories get read.”
She smiles but shakes her head. “That’s a different kind of control.”
“It’s the only kind that matters.”
Later, after the babies are asleep in their portable cribs, Sarah and I sit on the small balcony overlooking the ocean. She curls against my side, her head on my shoulder, and we listen to the waves in comfortable silence. “I have something to tell you,” she says eventually, her voice soft in the darkness.
“What’s that?”
“I might be pregnant again.”
I go very still, processing this information. “Might be?”
“I’m a week late, and I’ve been nauseated in the mornings. I was going to take a test when we get home, but I wanted you to know I was thinking about it.”
The possibility of another child should terrify me. Three babies under eighteen months old is already a logistical challenge that requires military-level planning, a part-time nanny, and more coffee than should be humanly possible to consume. Adding a fourth seems like madness.
Instead, I find myself smiling. “How do you feel about that?”
“Terrified and excited and slightly overwhelmed by the thought of managing four children under three years old.” She lifts her head to look at me. “How do you feel about it?”
“The same way I felt when you told me about the triplets… Like the luckiest man alive.”
She grins but arches an eyebrow with a hint of skepticism. “Even though it means more sleepless nights, more diapers, and more chaos than we already have?”
“Especially because of that.” I cup her face in my hands, memorizing her features in the moonlight. “I spent thirty-three years living in carefully controlled environments. Now, I live in beautiful chaos, where my biggest crisis is running out of diapers at two in the morning or trying to figure out why Katrina is crying when she’s been fed and changed and should theoretically be happy.”
Her eyes are soft. “And you prefer the chaos?”
“I prefer the love. The chaos just comes with it.”
She kisses me. It’s soft, sweet, and full of promise for whatever comes next. Whether it’s another baby or just the three we already have, easy days or difficult ones, or it’s the simple pleasure of Sunday mornings or the challenge of navigating three teenage personalities, we’re all-in and partners in the happy madness.
I’m finally completely free.