Page 118 of Slap Shot Daddies

Tears blur my vision as Dr. Patel and the attentive nurses carefully hand over the tiny bundles, each swaddled snugly in soft, pastel blankets.

“They’re perfect,” I whisper, my voice raspy and thick with emotion.

“They have red hair!” Reggie exclaims, his excitement bubbling over as he practically vibrates with joy. “All three of ‘em!”

Braden, still busy snapping pictures, chuckles. “So do most newborns, man.”

The nurses nod in agreement, but Reggie shakes his head, his face alight with pride. “Nah, mate. They’re mine. At least one of ‘em is mine!”

Ambrose lets out a joyful, tear-filled laugh and leans in to press a tender kiss to my temple.

Just then, a soft knock echoes from the door.

I glance up, exhaustion weighing on my eyelids but adrenaline keeping me alert, as the wooden door creaks open with a drawn-out groan.

And then, I almost let my baby slip from my arms as surprise jolts through me. My mom and dad peek their heads around the doorframe, their expressions a mix of sheepishness and hesitation, as if they're unsure of their welcome.

“Kenzie?” my mom murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we come in?”

I blink rapidly, the shock rendering me momentarily speechless. Beside me, the boys go rigid, their eyes fixed on the doorway, watching intently with a mix of curiosity and caution.

I hesitate, my mind racing, but then I notice it: the genuine regret swimming in my mother’s eyes like a tide of apology, and the tentative hope in my father's posture, his shoulders slightly hunched but his feet inching forward.

Against all odds, I find myself saying, “Yeah. You can come in.” They step inside, their movements nervous but eager, like explorers setting foot on unfamiliar terrain.

My mom gasps, her hand flying to her chest, eyes wide with wonder. “Oh, my goodness. Look at them,” she breathes, her voice a mixture of awe and emotion. My dad, usually the rock of silence and stoicism, exhales a shaky breath, his voice unsteady. “They’re beautiful.”

Ambrose, ever the guardian, clears his throat in warning. “You’re not here to start trouble, right?” he asks, eyes narrowed slightly. My mom shakes her head vehemently, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“No. I, ” She turns to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” And just like that, the layers of resentment I've held onto for so long begin to peel away, revealing the tenderness beneath.

I nod, a silent acceptance of the olive branch that has been extended.

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, you don’t have any excuses now.” I arch an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Excuses for what?”

A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “All three of them are gorgeous, Kenzie. You’d be a fool not to marry at least one of them.”

I can't help but laugh, rolling my eyes at her teasing. “Fine. You can help plan the wedding.”

The room erupts into cheers.

As I press a gentle kiss to my babies’ soft heads, their warmth seeping into my skin, I realize I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Kenzie

The morning sunstreams through the delicate lace curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the bedroom, creating a pattern of intricate shadows on the faded wooden floor.

I stretch languidly, feeling the absence of the familiar heaviness that had accompanied me for months.

It's been half a year since our triplets, Kingston, Daisy, and Lily, entered our lives, and today marks the day I officially become Braden's wife.

In my heart, though, I know I'm committing to an entire family.

Through the slightly ajar bedroom door, the soft, melodic cooing and giggling of the babies float in, punctuated by Reggie's rich Scottish brogue as he hums a lullaby while gently rocking Kingston in his arms.

Ambrose's deep, soothing voice follows, offering calming whispers as he bounces Daisy and Lily, his presence a steady comfort to the little ones.

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