Page 27 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

No, I’m not going to pull my dad back into my life. He’s where he wants to me and I’m…well…working on it. I don’t need his help.

It’s not like he’d be able to offer my any assistance anyway. He was always telling me that cooking wasn’t a job.

“Maybe he was right,” I whisper to the baby in my arms.

I close my eyes and think about a future like this, only warmer and cozy. I’d have a charming little house with a big fireplace, a huge Christmas tree in the corner, stockings for all the kids hanging on the mantle, my most recent little one nestled againstme like this, but a troupe of kids sleeping upstairs, waiting for Santa.

I think of Jared. Would that be the kind of man I finally settled down with? Some bigshot lawyer with a big salary so that I could be a stay-at-home mom and bake cookies and wrap presents?

I didn’t know, and the thought made me a little sad. I hadn’t thought much past Lemons. I had been solely focused on making it a success.

With that goal erased, however, I couldn’t stop obsessing about “fixing” this Christmas, making it special, and moving toward a future that included some things I didn’t even know I had been missing out on.

I look down at the little bundle of love in my arms and smile. Like this.

Time drags on, and every little noise makes me jump. I keep checking the clock, counting down the minutes until Troy returns. The baby shifts in my arms, his tiny face peaceful now.

I run my fingers through his soft hair, my panic slowly ebbing into something else—something maternal that I didn’t expect to feel.

I can do this,I tell myself. Just a little longer.

And then, the door opens.

I look up, relief flooding me as Troy steps inside. His eyes immediately lock on me—and the baby in my arms. His expression goes from confusion to shock in a split second.

“What the fuck?” he breathes, walking closer, his eyes wide. “Savannah…what’s going on? Do you have a baby?”

I shake my head as I look at the sleeping baby in my arms. “No, Troy. I don’t have a baby, but I think that you might.”

Chapter Eleven

Jared

My phone lights up for the fifth time in ten minutes, Troy’s name flashing on the screen. Damn it. I tilt my phone to silence it, glancing around the boardroom as I do.

It’s just me and three executives from FlexPro Sports, the lead brand rep mid-sentence about why the Chicago Icebreakers should choose them for the new sponsorship line.

“Right, so imagine this…” he’s saying, a grin stretching over his face. “FlexPro high-performance gear, co-branded with the Icebreakers logo. Jerseys, exclusive training shoes, custom cleats. We want your players wearing FlexPro off the rink too—public workouts, promotional events, the whole package.”

I nod, doing my best to focus. I’ve worked hard to get this deal in the bag, and the terms are solid. FlexPro’s reach, their high-quality gear, and hell, even the numbers alone make it a win.

I feel another buzz in my pocket. Troy again.Jesus, what could possibly be that urgent? I clench my teeth and keep my focus.

I clear my throat. “We’re looking at a six-month exclusivity period, correct?”

The FlexPro rep nods. “Right. Six months to see how it’s performing on both ends. If it’s a hit, we extend.”

I keep my face cool, but inside I’m already seeing the banners, the campaigns, the Icebreakers players decked out in FlexPro. Could be huge for us.

“All right, deal. I’ll have our team draft up the final terms.”

We shake hands, the FlexPro team pleased and practically patting themselves on the back as they pack up. I reach to silence my phone one more time as they leave the room.

It’s over. Finally. I let out a breath and grab my phone, checking the screen. Seven missed calls from Troy.

“What the hell, man,” I mutter to myself, hitting redial. I press the phone to my ear as I head toward the elevator, loosening my tie.

It rings once before Troy picks up. “Jared? Jared, thank God.”

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