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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MARLEE

I ’m perched on the exam table like a beached whale. My huge belly round and taut beneath my maternity shirt. Ledger is seated beside me on a tiny chair that’s clearly not built for someone of his size, his knees practically at his ears as he flips through a baby magazine like it's a playbook.

“‘Ten Ways to Soothe a Colicky Baby,’” he reads aloud. “Number one: Remain calm.” He rolls his eyes and chokes out a laugh. “Wow. Groundbreaking.”

I snort in response. “You know, you might want to keep that one handy for middle-of-the-night freak-outs.”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Ledger says confidently, piercing me with his green eyes. Then he hesitates. “Unless all three start crying at once. Then I’m tagging out and just hiding under the crib.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it. “You’re going to be great. Don’t worry.”

Before he can respond, there’s a knock at the door and Dr. Kwan , our maternal-fetal specialist, steps in with her nurse. She’s efficient but warm, already glancing at the chart and smiling.

“Well, look at you two. Hanging in there at twenty-seven weeks like champs.”

Deadpanned, I dryly reply, “I feel like a glorified watermelon stand.”

Dr. Kwan chuckles. “Well, that’s because you’re growing a whole produce section. Ready for the scan?”

Ledger stands up like it’s game time, adjusting his chair out of the way and I shift to lie back as the nurse applies warm gel to my stomach.

Thank God it’s warm this time.

She glides the wand across my skin and immediately, the screen lights up with movement. Three tiny bodies twisting and jabbing for leg room.

“There’s Baby A, head down, being very cooperative,” Dr. Kwan narrates. “Baby B is… still breech, but squirmy as ever. And Baby C is basically doing yoga.”

“Looks like they’re all taking after you,” I say, eyeing Ledger.

“Hey. Don’t blame me just because they’re elite athletes already.”

Together we watch the screen in awe as Dr. Kwan takes measurements, pausing now and then to point things out.

“Heartbeats are strong. Growth is right on track for all three. Fluid levels look good. And you, Marlee, are holding up incredibly well for someone carrying a small hockey team.”

Smiling weakly, I sigh. “I can’t see my feet. Or tie my shoes. Or sleep. But other than that…” I shrug. “I’m thriving.”

Dr. Kwan pats my leg kindly. “You’re doing great. Just keep hydrating, rest when you can, and don’t hesitate to come in if you feel anything out of the ordinary.”

She wipes the gel from my belly and begins entering notes into the chart.

Ledger watches the screen a moment longer, quieter now. “It’s kind of crazy,” he murmurs. “Seeing them like this. Knowing they’re all in there, getting bigger. Getting ready.”

I smile at the picture on the screen, my hand resting instinctively on my belly. “I know.”

He reaches for my fingers again, gently lacing them with his. “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“You said yes to my stupid ridiculous limerick. It was over after that.”

We share a laugh, and Dr. Kwan smiles on her way out.

As the door clicks shut behind her, Ledger leans down and presses a kiss just under my belly button.

“Keep growing, rookies,” he whispers to them. “We’ll see you soon.”

The room is dimly lit, the glow from Ledger’s phone casting soft light over the mountain of pillows I’m nestled into. Ledger lies beside me, shirtless, one hand draped protectively over my round belly, eyes half-closed as he scrolls through his phone.

“I think one of our children has found a hobby,” I mumble, shifting uncomfortably. “And it’s called kickboxing my bladder.”

Seriously. Do they ever sleep?

“Tell them to pick up a book like a normal fetus,” Ledger murmurs, half-asleep.

“I’m serious,” I say, sitting up a little. “Something feels…different. Tight.”

Ledger’s eyes pop open and he lifts up onto one elbow. “Different how?”

I press my hands to my belly, my brows furrowed. “I don’t know…it’s like everything is clenching? It’s not super painful, but it keeps coming in waves. I think I might be having contractions.”

He bolts upright, panic stricken. “What?”

I grab his arm, trying to keep him grounded. “I don’t want to panic. I’ve read about Braxton Hicks. This could just be practice.”

“Or it could be not practice.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “We’re only at twenty-seven weeks, Mar.”

“I know.”

I can hear the nervous wobble in my voice as I try to remain calm, but Ledger is already out of bed, pacing in his sweatpants. “Okay, we should call. Let’s call. Or go in. Should we go in?”

I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the rhythm of these possible contractions. “Let me just time them for a second, okay? If they don’t go away in like, half an hour, we’ll call Dr. Kwan.”

Ledge pauses mid-step. “Half an hour? Marlee, that’s…that’s forever in premature baby time!”

Okay. I can’t stay calm for both of us .

“Ledger,” I say as gently but firmly as possible. “Panic is not helpful.”

He takes a long inhale, hands on his hips, and then bows his head. “Right. Sorry. Okay. I’ll…start packing a hospital bag. Just in case.”

“We’re not going to the hospital.”

“I’m packing it anyway!”

He storms toward the closet and I let him because at least it gives him something to do to keep his mind busy.

In the meantime, I grab my phone and open the contraction timer app Dr. Kwan showed us weeks ago, trying not to let my mind spiral as well.

After two more tight waves, each only about five minutes apart, I catch my breath and mutter, “Okay, time to call.”

Ledger’s back in an instant, holding two mismatched socks and a baby onesie. “What did they say?”

“I haven’t called yet,” I tell him, dialing. “But please don’t pack the babies a six-month outfit for tonight.”

He makes a strangled sound. “Sorry! I panicked!”

The phone clicks and I speak with the on-call nurse. She asks me a few questions and tries to give me enough reassurance but recommends we come in just to be safe.

Labor and Delivery nurses have me hooked up to monitors within minutes of our arrival. My belly’s sporting three stretchy bands that track the babies’ heart rates and my contractions. Ledger sits beside me, chewing a piece of gum like it’s laced with caffeine.

The nurse next to me smiles kindly. “Looks like Braxton Hicks, but a little more frequent than we’d like. We’re going to monitor you for another hour, maybe give you some fluids. But the babies look great.”

Relief floods Ledger’s face so fast, he sags into the chair. “So…it’s not labor?”

“Not right now,” the nurse reports. “But Marlee’s body’s working hard carrying three babies, so it’s going to have its dramatic moments once in a while. Especially the further along we get.”

I let my head fall back with a breathy laugh. “Dramatic. That’s one word for it.”

I don’t tell Ledger I think these babies get their dramatic tendencies from him too.

When the nurse leaves a long silence settles in. Then Ledger leans forward, resting his forehead against my arm. “I was scared out of my mind.”

“I know,” I say softly, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Me too.”

“I love them,” he says quietly. “And I love you. And I don’t want anything to happen to either of you. When I told the kids I would see them soon, I didn’t mean tonight, I swear.”

“We’re okay, Ledger,” I reassure him with a smile, albeit an exhausted one. “We’re doing everything right. You are doing everything right and I appreciate you so much.”

He looks up at me, eyes a little glassy. “I packed you a can opener, two thongs, a pen, and the baby monitor.”

Oh, my God!

I choke out a laugh. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

29 WEEKS

“Hey, Mama,” Blakely greets me in my office. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re looking a little…”

She winces so I finish her sentence for her. “Large? Round? Bulbous? Swollen? Bulging? Huge?”

She laughs. “How about…glowing.” She winks and gives me a sympathetic smile. “You look absolutely glowing.”

I lean back in my office chair, my hands resting on my stomach because, quite frankly at this point, there’s nowhere else to put them. “Look at me, Blake. I’m a swollen fat-ass turkey complete with that thingy that pops when it’s done,” I tell her, pointing to my belly button.

“Well in case nobody has told you yet, Marlee, you’re pregnant.

With triplets, I might add. I think that entails a bit of…

growth. You’re literally baking three buns in that oven.

And at twenty-nine weeks, you’re still at work.

You should pat yourself on the back for that.

And then get yourself the hell home and off your feet until those babies come. ”

I shake my head. “No can do. Where the team goes, I go.” I shrug and then sigh with a hopeless cringe. “Plus, when it’s time for these babies to come I don’t want to be that far away from Ledger.”

Blakely offers me her hand. “Well then come walk with me. I left one of my notebooks in the community room this morning after the charity meet-and-greet and I need to grab it before I leave for the day. Plus, walking is good for those swollen ankles.”

“Ugh, you’re not wrong,” I say, turning in my chair and pulling myself to my feet. “One fat-ass penguin waddle coming up.”

“I’ll waddle right along with you. We’ll call them sympathy waddles.”

“You’re a true friend, Blakely.

We take the elevator down to the second floor and waddle down the hallway toward the community room.

“Oh, hey Marlee!” Ella practically shouts as she steps out of the very room we’re walking towards.

“Hey Ella,” Blakely says, waving as we near the room. “I left my notebook in there this morning. On the back counter. Did you happen to see it while you were in there?”

Ella nods. “Yep. And I just moved it to keep it safe for you. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She happily loops her arm with mine and together we step into the community room.

And then I stop dead in the doorway.

Holy…shit.

The room is unrecognizable.