Page 40 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
The tiny box feels heavier than it should, and I can’t help but feel like I’m holding the weight of my entire future in my hands.
I’ve never taken a pregnancy test before, and it’s nothing at all like I imagined. I always thought I’d be married, maybe even have a house before I needed to do this. I didn’t think I would find myself sitting here in a dingy bathroom with this little stick.
The instructions on the back look simple enough, but my eyes keep jumping from word to word, unable to focus. I keep reading the same line over and over. My mind is a whirlwind. What am I doing? This is so awkward.
I finally take a deep breath, undo the packaging, and do what the instructions say. There’s a moment of complete silence as Istare at the test in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest. I place it on the bathroom floor beside me, waiting. The wait feels like it’s stretching into eternity.
I stare at the small white stick, willing it to give me the answers I need, but part of me is terrified to find out what it’ll say. What if I’m not ready for this? What if I’m already failing at being a mother before I’ve even begun?
As I sit there, staring at the test, my mind begins to drift. I can’t help but think about my mom, about how hard it was for us while I was growing up.
She was always doing her best, working multiple jobs to put food on the table. But money was scarce. There was never enough for all the things the other kids had, new clothes, a nice lunch at school, the cool toys. Everything I had was secondhand, thrift store buys, and I was always made fun of for it.
But my mom was proud. She never let me feel like we were lacking, even though I knew we were.
I try to imagine my life now, with a baby. Could I be the mom I always wanted to be? I don’t want my kid to grow up like I did, barely scraping by. I can’t imagine raising a child here, in my tiny, overpriced apartment. I’m just a bartender struggling to survive in this expensive city.
The thought of being a poor single mom terrifies me. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.
Would I be enough for my child? Would I even be able to give them the life they deserve?
I glance back at the test, wondering what the future holds. The waiting feels unbearable now.
But then my mind drifts, and instead of my mother’s struggles, I imagine Noah and me. I picture us together, married, living in a home filled with love. I see us raising our baby boy together, full of joy, teaching him, showing him how the world works. I can see Noah, strong and steady, guiding usboth. He would be such an amazing father—caring, determined, protective.
I imagine our son running through a mansion, laughing, everything he could ever want or need at his fingertips. And I feel a swell of hope, imagining our baby living a life of comfort, never needing to wonder where the next meal is coming from.
I picture Noah there, always by my side, supporting me, as we raise our child as a team. He’d be the kind of dad who plays with our son, who cheers him on at his school play, who tucks him in at night with a kiss on the forehead. I see it all so clearly.
And suddenly, a tear slips down my cheek.
Is this what life has in store for me? For us? Could it be that Noah and I are meant to build a life together?
I blink, trying to clear the tears from my eyes, my breath catching. What if this isn’t just a dream? What if I could have the life I had been imagining?
The moment feels like it stretches on forever. I glance down at the test, my heart racing, my hands shaking. I pick it up and stare at the two lines on the stick, the marks so clear they’re almost mocking me.
I’m pregnant.
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s real. My heart races, and I can’t catch my breath. I grab another test, ripping it from the box, trying to make sense of it. I follow the steps, place it on the floor, and wait. The results show up the same way: two lines.
I do this again, using the last one, and the result is the same. I’m pregnant.
I sit there in a daze, the overwhelming weight of it all crashing down on me. I can’t stop shaking, the tears coming faster now. What the hell am I going to do?
I quickly pull up my pants. The tests slip from my hand and land on the floor. I flop down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. The sobs start. They’re uncontrollable.
I feel like I’m drowning in emotion, everything I’ve ever been afraid of coming to the surface at once.
What does this mean for me? For Noah? For my future? What kind of mother will I be? How can I do this alone, with everything already falling apart?
The room spins as I sob harder, unsure of anything except that my life is about to change in a way I never anticipated.
When Amy walks through the door, the sight of me on the bed, crying uncontrollably, instantly stops her in her tracks. She pauses for a moment, taking in my disheveled state, my face red from tears. The air between us thickens with unspoken worry.
“What’s going on, Bee?” she asks, rushing to my side. Her voice is filled with concern as she kneels beside the bed, gently pulling me into a tight hug. “Tell me what happened.I’ll hunt Zack downif I need to!”
I shake my head, wiping at my eyes, trying to calm my breathing. “It’s not...Zack,” I choke out, my voice thick with emotion. I can barely make sense of what I’m feeling, let alone explain it.
