Page 35 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“Hey, Robbie,” one of them says. “Wanna play Animal Tag with us?”

Robbie freezes, his gaze darting to me, suddenly uncertain again.

I nod encouragingly at him and gesture for him to go. “Go ahead. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitates, his fingers twitching nervously.

“They’ll show you how to play,” I add gently. “And I’ll be right here if you need me.”

After a long pause, Robbie nods and turns back toward the kids.

The kids chatter excitedly, pulling him along as they run toward the next station.

I watch him go, my heart swelling with pride and relief. For the first time today, Robbie isn’t clinging to my side. He’s just a kid, laughing and playing like he’s meant to.

Chapter Eleven

Cole

The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels alive.

The faint hum of the refrigerator fills the kitchen, and my shoes make no sound on the cool tile floor. I pull open the fridge and scan the shelves, the light casting a pale glow over the polished surfaces. Evelyn always preps extra meals for me in case I miss dinner, which is often. Tonight is no exception.

I grab a container labeled in Evelyn’s neat handwriting—lemon herb chicken with roasted vegetables. I set it on the counter, my movements slow and deliberate. The weight of the day still on my shoulders, but it’s not work that’s eating at me tonight.

It’s Annie.

I don’t know why I can’t get her out of my damn mind, even though I haven’t seen her all week.

I can’t stop replaying the moment from last week, the way she’d kissed me back before abruptly pulling away. The confusion in her eyes, the way she bolted out of my room without a word. It’s been days, and I still haven’t figured out what the hell I was thinking—or why she stopped sosuddenly.

I have my theories, but nothing confirmed.

I dig through a drawer for a fork, pulling it open with a bit more force than necessary. The sound of the drawer sliding shut echoes in the empty kitchen. I stab a piece of chicken and take a bite straight from the container, too hungry to bother heating it up.

The kitchen door creaks open, and I glance up, startled. Annie steps in, her hair loose around her shoulders and her expression tired but guarded. She’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a plain T-shirt, her usual polished appearance replaced by something softer and more vulnerable.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her in a week, and she’s no less beautiful. And the guilt is just as strong.

“Sorry,” she says, pausing when she sees me. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

“It’s fine,” I say, my voice low. I set the container down, my appetite suddenly gone.

She hesitates in the doorway, her hand gripping the edge of the frame. “I was just getting some water.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” I gesture toward the sink, and she moves cautiously into the room, like a deer testing the ground for traps.

The silence between us is almost painful, and I know I should say something—anything—to clear the air. But where thehell do I even start?

She reaches for a glass from the cabinet, her movements careful. I watch as she fills it at the sink, the soft trickle of water breaking the stillness.

“I’m sorry,” I say abruptly, the words foreign and odd.

She freezes, the glass halfway to her lips. Slowly, she turns to face me, her brows drawing together in confusion. “For what?”

“For… that night,” I say, my words stumbling over themselves. “For putting you in that position. It was… unprofessional.”

Her expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across her face. “You don’t have to apologize,” she says quietly. “I wasn’t exactly an innocent party in that.”

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