Page 14 of The Billionaire's Instant Triplets

More nodding.

“When we get home, we can have a special nut snack, just like squirrels. What do you think?”

“Yay!” It was enough to tear the triplets’ gazes away from the squirrel and get them walking again. Ria smiled to herself. The kids hadn’t been talking about a school at all — she just wished she’d known that earlier, when she was making pancakes, because the blob she’d given Jamie hadn’t resembled a squirrel at all.

Back home, Ria prepared a drink and a snack for the triplets then pulled out her phone to send a quick text to Tristan.

They weren’t actually asking about a school, it turns out — they were asking about a squirrel. Who knew?

Hopefully, Tristan would be as amused by the revelation as she was. Though, on second thought, he probably already knew. As the children’s father, he would have heard them talk about squirrels many times before, especially since they were such squirrel fans.

Ria put her phone away and turned her full attention back to the kids. It was time to start potty training and see if she could get them on a good nap schedule.

CHAPTER8

TRISTAN

Tristan wasn’t having the best day.

That was surprising, because things were finally going his way. He had Ria to take care of the triplets, so he wasn’t worried about them and didn’t have to bring them to work. That was a huge relief by itself. He could finally concentrate on his job and on getting things done.

Yet he was strangely hungry all morning. Usually, he tolerated his fasts well, but today, he wanted nothing more than a stack of pancakes piled with sliced fruit and dripping with maple syrup.

“No kids today, huh?” David, the company’s financial manager, handed him a document. “This just needs your signature.”

“Yep, the kids are home with a new nanny. I’m cautiously optimistic.” Tristan smiled and signed the document before handing it back.

“It must be a relief to focus on work again.” David shrugged. “I love my kids, but it’s good to get a break now and then.”

“Right.” Tristan nodded, but something struck him as odd about the conversation. He wasn’t able to put a finger on it until later, when he was walking out of a quarterly planning meeting. Hewasrelieved to be able to focus on work, but he felt bad about his relief. He was the closest thing to a parent these kids had, but he couldn’t be the father they needed. He should want to be with them all the time, shouldn’t he?

Yet whenever the kids gave him a hug or pressed a sticky cookie into his hand with a grin, Tristan felt bad for his sister.Sheshould be the one raising her beloved children, not her clueless half brother. It was like he couldn’t win. He either felt guilty for not being around the kids, or he felt guilty for being close with them. And either way, he felt guilty for not knowing what he was supposed to do for them.

Guilt was an unfamiliar feeling for Tristan. He didn’t much like it.

Around eleven, he got a text from Ria.

They weren’t actually asking about a school, it turns out — they were asking about a squirrel. Who knew?

He stared at the text for a long time. He hadn’t known that the kids were asking about a squirrel. He didn’t even know which squirrel they were asking about — perhaps one of their toys? Tristan told himself that it didn’t matter, but he found his thoughts drifting back to Ria and the kids throughout the day. Usually, by now, he’d have gotten a frantic call from the nanny saying that the kids were going wild, but there was nothing but an occasional positive update from Ria.

In some way, that made Tristan feel even more guilty. Clearly, Ria had some kind of magic power over the kids that he just didn’t. When all the babysitters and nannies had struggled, Tristan had felt less bad about his own difficulties with the triplets. Now that he heard about how clearly capable Ria was, he felt like he must be doing things wrong.

In short, it wasn’t a good day — even though Tristan was able to address numerous urgent business matters that had been on the back burner for some time. He ate his lunch of kale salad at his desk, still elbows-deep in work, and followed it up with some green tea in the afternoon. A memory of Ria joking about the green contents of his cabinet floated back as he sipped his drink, and Tristan smiled slightly.

Five o’clock came and went with Tristan still working. Finally, around eight thirty, he dragged himself away from his desk. Now that Ria was here, he should be able to work like this every day, so he didn’t need to work all night anymore. He headed home, the streets of San Francisco still buzzing at this hour, and pulled into the driveway around nine.

Inside, the house was quiet. Tristan took off his shoes and headed upstairs to check on the triplets, who were all sleeping peacefully. He smiled at the sight of them before carefully shutting the door.

Next, he went down to the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

When he stepped through the doorway, he caught sight of Ria. She had on headphones and pajamas (shorts and an oversized T-shirt) and was dancing with great enthusiasm. A pile of dishes sat on the draining board beside her and she had a sponge in her hand. Her red hair was piled into a bun on top of her head.

Tristan paused in the doorway. He should get her attention and let her know he was here, but something about the way she danced — completely freely — was compelling. Just as he was about to say something, Ria turned, sponge in hand. Her eyes widened when she saw Tristan, and she dropped the soapy sponge onto the floor and pressed a hand to her heart.

“You scared me.” She pulled off her headphones.

“Sorry.” Tristan glanced at the fallen sponge. “I see you’re throwing more of my property on the ground.”

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