Page 70 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

“Nope. We’re coming with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argue. “I don’t need an entourage to discuss birth control.”

“It’s not negotiable,” Jamie says firmly. “We’re in this together.”

Troy reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. “He’s right. We’ll be there.”

I sigh, but their determination is oddly reassuring. “Fine. But I’m still stopping by the pharmacy today.”

“Deal,” Troy says with a small smile.

After breakfast, I move to the counter to start baking. I want to make some more cookies and try out a few holiday pie recipes I’ve discovered.

The guys stick around, helping where they can—Troy chopping fruit for a pie filling, Jamie stealing bites of dough when he thinks I’m not looking.

“You’re amazing,” Jamie says, popping a piece of stolen dough into his mouth.

I swat at him with a spoon. “Stop eating it raw!”

Troy chuckles from across the room, Noah giggling on his hip. “She’s got a point, Jamie.”

Jamie grins but backs off, watching me with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

When the pie’s finally in the oven, they pull me close, wrapping me in their warmth.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Troy murmurs against my hair.

“And for putting up with us,” Jamie adds, kissing my forehead.

I laugh softly, letting myself sink into their embrace. For the first time in a long time, everything feels…right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jamie

We drag ourselves out of the rink, sweat-soaked and exhausted. My legs ache, my arms feel like lead, and I swear if I have to skate one more drill today, I might just throw myself on the ice and refuse to move.

Troy’s not looking much better—he’s got that dead-eyed stare like he’s on autopilot, one skate in front of the other.

“Did you talk to Savannah yet?” I ask, wiping my neck with a towel.

He shakes his head, pulling his phone out of his bag. “Not yet. I texted her after practice, but she hasn’t replied.”

“Maybe she’s still at the hospital?” I suggest. My chest tightens at the thought of her being alone there. “We could swing by and check in. Maybe get her one of those cute baskets with stuff we like.”

Troy gives me a sideways look. “Stuffwelike?”

“Yeah, you know. Snacks. Drinks. Maybe some bath bombs or whatever she’s into.”

Troy snorts. “Savannah and bath bombs?”

“Don’t knock it. I’ve seen her light candles. She’s got a soft side.”

“All right, basket it is. But I’m not buying candles.”

I grin, grabbing my keys. “I’ll pick the candles. You can buy something for the dog.”

“Shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t even named him yet. I wanted a dog, and now I feel guilty as hell. I haven’t spent any time with him.”

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