Page 4 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

Only Olivia remained perfectly quiet and still.

My children were named after famous women artists—Cassie after Mary Cassatt, Georgie after Georgia O’Keefe, and Olivia after Olivia De Berardinis, or so I told people. I thought De Berardinis’ work in cheesecake art was fun, but in truth, she was named after her father. It turned out to be a suitable name as she was very much like him, quiet and kind.

Of course, everyone thought Liam was their father. And maybe it was wrong to let everyone, including Oliver, believe that. But by the time I discovered I was pregnant, Oliver had gone. He promised me he'd stay and be there for me, but in the end, he had to follow his dream. And who was I to stop him from that? Especially since I knew that his staying would only keep him enmeshed in the ugliness of his brother’s life. A life that I was a reminder of.

There was no doubt in my mind that Oliver regretted our night together. He believed he betrayed Liam, and I imagined that was part of what drove him away to California earlier than planned. Between that and the loss of his brother, I couldn't blame him for wanting to get away.

And I couldn't bring myself to bring him back. Granted, when I learned I was having triplets, I had a moment to reconsider. But I had all the emotional and financial support I needed. Not that I took money from my family. My father was wealthy, but I wanted to support me and my girls.

During my pregnancy, I grew up so much. So much so that I left a potential dream job as a collections assistant and instead found work in commercial art at an advertising agency. Over the last few years, I proved myself to the point that I was now the art director. It wasn't my ideal job, but I didn't hate it. It was full of challenges, and I was still able to be creative.

"Olivia, you are released, and you may go get dressed."

Olivia gave me a sweet smile and hurried off to the room she shared with her sisters.

"She always wins," Georgie complained.

"Cassie, I now release you, and you can go get dressed."

Georgie turned to me, scrunching her face up and jamming her fists and her hips. "Why do they always win?"

I knelt in front of her, putting my hands on her little round cheeks. "Because you can't stop moving or talking. If we ever have a contest where the person who moves the most or talks the most, you'll be triumphant."

Her eyes rounded. "Really? Can we play that?"

"Why don't you see if your grandpa and gran-Mira will play it with you? Remember, you're having a sleepover over there tonight."

My father and Mira would probably not like to hear that I suggested the kids play a game that involved movement and noise, but better at their house with them than here with me. At least at their house, it was two against three. With just me, it was one against three and while I believed I was a good mother, it didn't come without its challenges.

"Now you can go get dressed."

She ran off to her room, which gave me a moment to pour the cup of coffee that was already brewed because of the timer I set last night. I learned early on that being a parent involved routines, schedules, and systems. Now that my girls were four years old, we had that all down to a T. The first three years were a huge struggle, but now that they were in prekindergarten, things had become a little bit easier.

They were old enough to do many things on their own, like getting dressed. Because they were in school, I saved on the exorbitant amount of daycare money that I could now put into college savings for them. Even so, I couldn’t have done it without my father, Mira, and Uncle Duncan. With them, I had support and babysitters.

As I drank my coffee, I pulled their lunches packed last night from the fridge and checked each of their backpacks to make sure they had everything they needed. By the time they came to the kitchen ready to eat their breakfast, I was on my second cup of coffee and they were packed to go.

After breakfast, we piled into my SUV, with the third row seat to help keep them separated due to squabbling, and I drove them to school. At the drop off, I gave each a kiss and told them I love them and handed them over to their teacher. Then I headed off to work.

Once at my desk, I went through the progress of all our active campaigns, checking data and seeing if there were any questions or concerns from the team or from the client.

Once I was done with that, I moved on to campaigns that were in planning or the implementation stages, responding to client questions and making sure the team and the client were on the same page.

Mid-morning, I had a meeting with a potential client, and I quickly reviewed all my presentation points and then headed out to meet them in the conference room. When that meeting was over, I was at my desk, taking information from another potential client. My mind was awhirl with ideas, and I was glad the girls would be at my dad and Mira’s tonight so I could get started on them.

At two o'clock, I contacted Mira to make sure that she remembered she was picking up my kids, along with her son, my half-brother Grayson, from school today. As usual, she acted offended that I would have to remind her, but I was a mother. I wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

"Your dad is wondering how long before the kids are going to be able to play something other than Candyland. The guy really has an aversion to that game,” she said.

I snorted. "Tell him he has to suck it up or teach them a new game. In fact, ask Georgie about a possible game."

There was silence on the other end. "What sort of game?" Mira’s tone suggested that she knew the game probably wouldn’t be better than Candyland.

"Just ask her. And thank you for taking them tonight."

Sometimes, they took the kids just for fun because they wanted to, but other times, they did it because I needed a break or had something else going on. That something else going on usually involved a business meeting, taking care of something with the house, or just needing a respite.

"You know we’ll have fun. What about you?"

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