Page 24 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY
Josie
I’m wrapped in a blanket that smells vaguely like dryer sheets and defeat, curled into the corner of my couch with a half-full mug of tea I’ve reheated three times and still haven’t finished.
My head’s pounding with the kind of low-grade ache that feels like it’s been stitched into my bones. Every muscle is sore. Even my eyelids feel tired.
And honestly, I’m still a little humiliated.
“Josie?”
I bolt up a little straighter. Is that…?
“Maya?”
“Tell me you didn’t actually collapse in the middle of the kitchen like some damsel in a soap opera.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me. I’m fragile.”
“You passed out at work, Jo,” she says, heels clicking across the hardwood as she steps into view, holding up a bag of soup like a peace offering. “I reserve the right to be dramatic.”
She kicks off her shoes, shrugs off a camel trench coat like she’s walking a runway, and drops beside me with all the grace of a slightly feral cat.
“Don’t worry,” she adds. “I brought soup. Nurse Maya is here to make everything better.”
I laugh. But it’s weak, and somehow, that makes my eyes burn.
She watches me for a second, too quiet. Then she softens.
“Hey,” she says. “Talk to me.”
I stare at the blanket knotted in my lap. “I passed out, Maya. Passed out. In the middle of service, in front of everyone. I took down a full tray of plates and scared the hell out of Knox and… shit, I don’t even know who else was there.”
“Okay,” she says gently. “But you’re okay now?”
I nod, though it doesn’t feel like enough. “The doctor says it was probably exhaustion. Low blood sugar. Maybe dehydration. He told me to rest. Take a few days off. He said my body basically shut itself down because I wouldn’t slow down.”
Maya sighs and leans her head against mine. “Well, thank God it did shut down before something worse happened. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks.”
“I was trying to keep up. Prove myself. I thought if I just pushed harder,” My throat tightens. “I didn’t want to seem weak.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. “Josie. Exhaustion isn’t weakness. It’s burnout. It’s your body saying, ‘Hey, maybe we don’t need to be Superwoman today.’” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Even Beyoncé takes naps.”
I laugh again, shakier this time. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve worked kitchens before, when I was in school in Chicago. I’ve had long hours, late nights. But this time I feel like I’m always a step behind. Like no matter how hard I work, it’s not enough.”
Maya arches a brow. “Not enough for who?”
I don’t answer. Not right away.
Because that’s the thing I haven’t said out loud yet.
I don’t know who I’m trying to impress more. Knox, or myself.
And I also don’t know why .
She must sense it, because her eyes soften again, and she nudges the soup toward me.
“You want to talk about him?”
My pulse skips. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Start with: did he freak out when you collapsed?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. He was there. He caught me. Stayed with me until I came to. He called the doctor. Got the kitchen under control. He didn’t leave.”
Maya lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Okay, Chef Daddy .”
“Maya.”
“I’m just saying, that man looked like a brick wall with anger issues when I first met him, and now he’s out here playing knight in shining apron?”
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “It’s complicated.”
Maya doesn’t say anything right away.
Instead, she leans forward, rummaging through her oversized tote like she’s looking for contraband, and pulls out a crinkled brown paper bag.
She plops it on the coffee table between us with a weighty thud.
I frown. “What’s that?”
“Something we need to talk about,” she says, carefully pulling out not one, not two, but three boxes of pregnancy tests.
My mouth drops open. “Wait. What?”
She doesn’t flinch. She keeps unpacking like she’s setting up a science experiment. “Three different brands. Six tests total. Don’t worry, they all had good reviews.”
“Maya, what the hell?” My voice comes out high-pitched and shaky. “Why would you… why are you even… what?”
She finally looks at me, expression stern. “Josie. Come on. You passed out cold. You’ve been dragging for weeks. Nauseous. Exhausted. Moody as hell. Your boobs hurt, you said so the other day, remember? You’re crying over soup.”
“I’m sick, not...” I shake my head violently. “Okay, maybe I thought about it. Once. But I didn’t want to… fuck, Maya, I wasn’t ready to admit it.”
“Well,” she says, voice gentle now, “I have. And I think it might be a good idea to check .”
I just stare.
Because somehow, in the chaos of trying to keep up at work, in the fog of being so damn tired, in the mess of whatever is happening between me and Knox, I genuinely hadn’t stopped long enough to do this math. To connect those dots.
And now that she’s said it, now that the possibility is sitting on my coffee table staring back at me in bold pink lettering, I feel like the ground tilts beneath me.
“Maya,” My voice cracks. “You think I could be pregnant?”
She softens instantly. “I think it’s possible. And you need to know either way.”
I sink back into the couch, heart thudding so loudly I can barely hear over it. “I’m not ready for this. I don’t even know what I want from Knox, or from this town, or from my life right now. How the hell am I supposed to know if… if I can handle this ?”
“You don’t have to know anything yet,” she says softly. “But this is step one.”
I stare at the tests like they might explode.
“And in case you’re wondering,” she adds, quieter now, “I got them from Stella’s. She didn’t ask questions. Just rang me up, handed me a chocolate bar and a box of ginger tea, and told me, ‘Just in case, sweetheart.’”
That does it.
My vision blurs instantly. “Why is everyone so nice here?” I croak. “I can’t… why is she like that?”
Maya pulls me into a hug without hesitation. “Because this place is filled with people who show up when it matters. Even if it’s with chocolate and unsolicited life-altering tests.”
I bury my face in her shoulder. “I’m not prepared for this.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But you’re not alone. We’ll figure it out together. I promise. You have all of us.”
My hands tremble as I reach for the bag. My whole body feels like it’s floating, like none of this is real, but somehow, I know what I have to do.
I don’t know what the answer is yet.
But I’m about to find out.
Reluctantly, I grab one.
Okay, fine. I grab three and spend the next fifteen solid minutes pacing, stalling, and threatening to yeet the entire bag of tests out the window.
Maya watches me like a calm, nonjudgmental lighthouse in a storm. She’s propped on my couch with her legs tucked under her and a smug little mug of tea in her hands like she’s not the person who just turned my whole world upside down with one paper bag and a knowing look.
“Do you need me to read you the directions?” she offers sweetly.
“I’m not building a rocket,” I mutter. “I know how to pee on a stick.”
“Then what’s the holdup, champ?”
“I’m gathering my strength.”
“You’ve been in a stare down with a box for nine minutes.”
“It’s staring first!”
She snorts. “You’re being dramatic.”
I point a finger at her. “I’m about to pee on something that may or may not change the course of my entire life. I think I’m allowed a little drama.”
“Try not to pee on your hand.”
“Goodbye. Forever.”
I storm into the bathroom, dignity flapping behind me like a sad little cape. The instructions are easy enough— pee, wait, suffer , and I try to focus on the science of it instead of, you know, the world-crushing implications.
Two minutes later, I shuffle out like a sleep-deprived gremlin and toss the capped test on the coffee table between us like it’s cursed.
“There,” I say, collapsing beside her. “Now we wait.”
Maya sets a timer on her phone. “Want to scroll TikTok to pass the time?”
“I want a lobotomy.”
We sit in silence, and the seconds stretch out like a bad first date. My heart is hammering. My mouth’s dry. My foot won’t stop tapping.
When the timer goes off, I jump like I’ve been shot.
“I can’t look,” I say, shaking my head. “I literally cannot.”
“I’ve got it,” Maya says, calm as ever. She picks it up.
Her eyes go wide.
“Oh.”
My stomach plummets. “What do you mean ‘oh’? Oh, what , Maya?”
She swallows, glances at me, and says gently, “Josie, it’s positive.”
Time stops.
I blink at her, my brain still buffering. “ Positive positive?”
She nods.
I laugh.
It’s a wild, unhinged, absolutely not okay laugh that quickly turns into something suspiciously close to a sob. “That’s… no. No. I did it wrong.”
“You didn’t do it wrong.”
“It’s faulty. Maybe it expired. Maybe it’s a prank test. Maybe.”
“Jo.”
I stop rambling. Because it’s written right there. Two bold little pink lines. Not subtle. Not vague. Not maybe.
Definitely.
Positively.
Pregnant.
I sit back, dazed. “I was not expecting that.”
Maya hums and hands me the emergency chocolate bar like I’m being awarded for surviving the first round of motherhood Hunger Games.
I stare at the test. “I don’t feel pregnant. Shouldn’t there be fireworks or an angel chorus or something?”
“You did faint in the middle of a kitchen like a nineteenth-century heiress.”
“Too soon.”
She leans in, voice softer now. “Are you okay?”
No.
Yes.
Maybe?
I press a hand to my stomach and blink, trying to make sense of this new reality. Of this tiny, invisible thing changing the entire course of my life.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
And then the bigger thought crashes through me like a truck.
“I’m pregnant,” I say again, slower now, more horrified, “with Knox’s baby.”
Maya winces. “Yikes. Yeah. That one wild night of yours really does keep giving, doesn’t it? That part complicates things a bit.”
Complicates?
Understatement of the century.
Because what the hell do I do now?
March into the kitchen like, Hey, Boss, guess what? You’re going to be a dad! Surprise!
“I don’t know how to tell him,” I whisper, throat tight.
“You don’t have to know anything yet,” Maya says, resting a hand over mine. “But this is step one.”
I nod, slowly. My fingers tighten around the test, and I feel the ground shift beneath me again.
Step one.
Someone help me.
What the hell does step two even look like?