Page 84 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
“This is for you, Mommy,” he says, grinning. “I made it for you because you’re Blossom, not Mom!”
He giggles, as if just realizing my name is actually Blossom.
Ruby and Jackson come over too, each holding a picture they’ve drawn—Ruby’s is a rainbow with big, colorful stripes, and Jackson’s is a rough sketch of a car.
I take all the drawings, smiling as I stick them to the fridge with magnets. It’s the simplest things that bring me the most joy—seeing their little faces light up with pride over something so small.
I start dinner, keeping one eye on them as they run around in the living room, playing with toys and laughing. The smell of pasta fills the kitchen as I stir the sauce, listening to the happy chaos of my kids’ laughter.
There’s something so comforting about this. Something so right.
I can’t believe how far we’ve come. I can’t believe how happy I am, how full my heart feels. This life, this family, is everything I ever wanted.
I hear the door click open, and before I even turn around, I hear the loud chorus of, “Daddy! Daddy’s home!”
The kids scramble to the front door, eager to hug Noah as he steps inside. I watch the scene unfold, smiling to myself. Noah crouches down, his arms wide, as they all jump into his embrace, laughing and shouting about their day.
It’s one of my favorite moments of the day, the moment Noah walks in and the kids surround him, their faces lighting up like he’s the best thing in the world. And he is. To them, and to me.
Noah stands up, cradling Theo in one arm and holding Jackson’s hand with the other. He walks over to me, kissing me on the cheek. I smile, feeling that familiar rush of love every time he touches me.
“Hey,” he says, still smiling, his eyes warm and full of love. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
I laugh, pulling the pasta off the stove. “Pasta and garlic bread. I figured we’d keep it simple tonight.”
He nods, dropping a kiss on my forehead as he helps me set the table. “Sounds perfect.”
We sit down as a family, surrounded by our kids, and I can’t help but feel so full, full of love, full of happiness.
This is it. This is our life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
We sit around the dinner table, the noise of the kids’ excitement filling the room as they recount their day at school, this time for their father.
It’s a lively, chaotic moment, but it feels so comforting. Ruby starts first, her voice high-pitched as she recites a little poem she learned.
"Roses are red, violets are blue, I like the color green, and so do you!" she sings, clearly proud of herself. I can’t help but smile at how sweet she sounds.
Jackson immediately follows, reciting a poem he’s learned about animals. His voice is quieter, but he’s still so excited to show off what he’s learned.
Theo jumps in, repeating the last line of the poem he’s just heard, not entirely clear on the words, but full of energy. He’s trying so hard to get the pronunciation right, and Noah jumps in, helping him with each word.
Noah, the ever-doting father, gently guides Theo to help him pronounce the words correctly. “It’s like this, buddy,” Noah says softly, his smile warm and full of encouragement.
Ruby starts singing a little song she learned in music class. Noah’s eyes are so full of pride as he listens. He’s such an incredible father. I love seeing him like this, so patient, so gentle, so involved.
The kids adore him, and I can see why. They’re his whole world.
His smile, his encouragement, his pride; he’s not just their father, he’s their hero.
And he’s mine, too.
After dinner, we move to the living room, the kids snuggled up on the couch with their blankets as a movie starts. It’s a goofy, lighthearted family film, the kind the kids adore.
They giggle and laugh, their little faces full of joy as the characters on the screen do something silly. I feel the warmth of the moment settle over me, my family gathered together, safe and sound.
By the time the movie’s over, the house is silent, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of the kids. Theo has fallen asleep sprawled out on the couch, and Ruby’s eyelids are heavy, fluttering as she drifts into a peaceful sleep. Jackson’s head is resting on my shoulder, his small body already slack with sleep.
I know it’s time.
