Page 54 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

Oh, she went home.

More disappointment sweeps through me as I head toward Owen’s bedroom, but as I’m passing mine, movement catches my eye, and I see her emerging from my bathroom with my toothbrush in her hand.

Pushing open the door, I stare at her, and she freezes in place, a paralyzed deer in headlights behind her glasses.

In her other hand, she holds plastic bags, each one labeled with our names.

Owen.

Toby.

Brock.

Uncomprehendingly, I merely gape at her. “Emerson, what the hell are you doing?”

CHAPTER15

Emerson

How did I not hear him come in? How could I have possibly missed the fact that he was right here in the house, watching me the whole goddamn time?

“Emerson!”

I can’t find my voice. Shaking, I inch toward him, eying the door as I consider running. Fight or flight, right? But I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman, not a toddler. I can’t just run away.

I brush past him. “I have to go.”

“With our toothbrushes?” he demands dubiously. “Are you collecting our DNA?”

Oh, he’s definitely onto me. There’s no denying what I’m doing. But I still can’t bring myself to confess the truth to him.

Almost in a sprint, I rush toward the front of the house where I’d left my running shoes and half jam my feet into them before bursting out the door and making my way toward the coach house to lock myself in. I’m shocked he didn’t try to grab my arm or stop me in some way.

Panting and trembling, I lean against the door and stare at the baggies in my hand, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with them now. I have the DNA I need, so I can get a paternity test done.

But at what cost? I still need to explain all this to the triplets somehow.

I turn and look into the darkness, expecting to see Brock storming toward the coach house after me, but I don’t see him.

I’m acting like a lunatic. He probably has no idea what to make of what just happened.

And where are his brothers?

Beads of cold sweat break out over my forehead as I push off the door and hurry upstairs to the loft to lie down and collect my bearings for a minute. Dizziness and nausea threaten to consume me, but I don’t let them as I tuck the toothbrushes under the mattress and take deep breaths.

“It’s okay,” I say to the empty coach house. “Everything is going to be okay.”

I should call Mae. Mae will be the voice of reason. She’ll talk me down.

Sitting up, I head back down the stairs to find my phone and again look out the window warily. There’s still no sign of Brock or anyone else. The lack of movement is almost as daunting as the idea of seeing him.

“Hi, sugar,” Mae answers sweetly. “How are you feeling?”

“Brock caught me looking for his DNA,” I blurt out hysterically. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“Oh shit!” She sounds appalled. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

I can only imagine where her mind is going. “Geez, Mae!”

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