Page 57 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

Leah’s baby.

…My baby.

It’s insane. How does this even make sense?

The silence in the room is palpable, broken only by the soft hum of the machine. I can hear Leah’s breathing become more ragged as the tech moves the wand over her belly, capturing images of the second and third babies.

“How do they look?” I ask. “Healthy?”

The tech nods and smiles. “Yep. Everything looks good.”

As the ultrasound tech prints out the images, I feel another strange emotion wash over me.

Protectiveness.

Coming into this room today has made things even more complicated, and I’m not sure what to do about that yet.

Leah sits up and wipes the gel off of her belly. I reach out to help her, but she pulls back slightly.

“I’ve got it,” she says, her voice small.

I step back and watch as she stands up and pulls her shirt down. We follow the tech out of the room and back into the hallway.

“Do you want to know the genders?” the tech asks.

Leah hesitates, and I have to bite my tongue. I would love to know, but it’s not my choice. I already washed my hands of this whole situation. My standing here today is nothing more than a fluke.

“No, thank you,” she finally says. “I’d like to wait.”

“Sure thing. I’ll show you the way out.”

I follow the two women, feeling a little disappointed. I guess I’ll find out the babies’ genders eventually.

When? When they’re born?

Will Leah even tell me when they come?

It’s not like I can expect that from her. I gave up that right, along with everything else. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. It doesn’t matter who you are.

If I could go back in time, though, would I do things differently? Would I have never drawn up those terms my lawyers sent her?

I don’t know.

Today has been a roller coaster. Seeing images of children I’ve fathered is one thing, but raising them is another.

Parenthood still isn’t meant for me. I have to be honest with myself when it comes to that. One day in and I would be over it. I know myself.

The tech bids us farewell, and we step out into the bright day. I want to say something to Leah, anything. It feels like we need to commemorate the moment, to acknowledge the cool thing that just happened.

But she’s already walking for the car, leaving me behind.

Which is fitting.

Honestly, what was I thinking anyway? I asked to be hands-off when it came to her and these babies, and that’s what I’ve gotten.

I should be happy.

Even though I tell myself that, though, deep down something just doesn’t sit right.

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