Page 116 of Hat Trick Daddies

Elise, on the other hand, is already playing the violin and she’s learning her times tables!

At just six years old, she’s playing pieces most middle schoolers struggle with, her little hands moving deftly over the strings.

The sound of her practicing fills the house, and it’s beautiful, soft and lilting, like something out of a dream, just like the sound of her high-pitched squeals anytime Tyler tosses her in the air.

Then there’s Derek, our budding artist. He’s always drawing, sketching whatever catches his eye, from our cat Marcy to the imaginary creatures he dreams up.

His talent amazes all of us, and he’s constantly surprising me with his creativity.

None of us expected it, but now the fridge is covered in his masterpieces, and we’ve started framing some for the walls. I wonder if he’ll end up being a Picasso in his later life. I’m enthralled with his style already.

Watching their talents bloom has been a joy, and I can’t wait to see what they’ll do next. Every day in this life feels like an adventure, and there’s no telling where we’ll end up next.

Some of my favorite moments are the quiet ones we spend together at home.

Dinner is always an event, with everyone crowded around the table, the triplets chattering excitedly about their day while the boys and I laugh and share stories.

Afterward, we pile onto the couch, tangled together in a sea of blankets and pillows, watching cartoons or old Disney movies.

The kids call all of the guys “daddy”, which can be confusing at times. If one of them yells, “Daddy, come here!” all three men instinctively answer. But none of them seems to mind. In fact, they cherish it.

Brooks, Nick, and Tyler each see the triplets as their own, and it shows in the way they love and care for them.

As I sit here, Elise curled up in my lap, Marcus leaning against Brooks, and Derek lying against Tyler, I feel the weight of gratitude settle over me.

This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.

Working as the team doctor at the stadium is a dream come true. Every day is filled with challenges, but I thrive on it.

Taping sprained ankles, stitching up cuts, and diagnosing everything from concussions to muscle strains, it’s what I was born to do.

The players respect me, and as far as I can tell, no one suspects the unique relationship I share with Brooks, Nick, and Tyler.

And honestly? Even if they did, I wouldn’t care.

This life, unconventional as it may be, is the life I chose for my children and my husbands.

Walking through the stadium’s labyrinth of hallways, I feel a sense of pride knowing I’m here because I earned it. Every time I step into my office or onto the ice, I remind myself of the promises I made to my family.

My children will grow up in a home full of love and stability, and my husbands will always have my support. That’s all that matters.

A couple of days later, I’m in my office, carefully splinting one of the player's broken fingers, when my phone buzzes on the counter.

Glancing down, I see the kids school number. “Hold on,” I tell the player, reaching for my phone.

The school counselor’s voice is apologetic but firm. “Ms. Perry, your kids have been...wrestling with another boy during playtime. They’re using what looks like hockey moves.”

A laugh bubbles up, but I suppress it. “Wrestling? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, but the boy’s parents weren’t too thrilled,” she says gently.

I bite back a smile. “Understood. I’ll send their dad over shortly.” Hanging up, I turn back to the player, who’s eyeing me curiously.

“Your kids always this crazy?” he asks, smirking.

I grin. “Have you met their dad?”

He chuckles as I finish up.

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