Page 80 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

A couple nurses walk by, then a family with balloons. I’m the only one who’s alone — a curse of my own making.

Finding a chair, I take a seat and let my head drop forward. The minutes tick by, slow and agonizing.

“Mr. Leadsom.”

I look up and see a nurse.

She smiles at me. “Leah would like you to come in. It’s almost time.”

I scramble to my feet and follow the nurse into Leah’s hospital room. She’s propped up on pillows, beads of sweat dotting her forehead as she breathes through contractions. Taylor is right next to her, holding her hand.

Our eyes lock across the room. There’s so much I could say, but only one thing feels right.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes soften, and it’s like the walls I built up between us come crumbling down. Rushing to her bed, I kneel and take her hand in mine.

“I’m so sorry.” I kiss her knuckles. “I was an idiot. I should have been by your side every day.”

Tears fill her eyes. “Why now?”

“I had to hit rock bottom to pull my head out of my ass.” I push hair away from her forehead. “Life without you is hell.”

She winces and closes her eyes.

“Maybe you should talk about this later,” Taylor suggests. “Breathe, Leah. Nice and slow.”

Nurses and a doctor bustle around us, and Leah groans low and deep. Apparently, that C-section isn’t happening. The babies are coming now.

Leah’s grip on my hand is like a vise, but I don’t care. I can feel her pain, but I can also feel her strength.

“You’re doing great,” I encourage her, stroking her hair back as she pushes.

Animalistic sounds come from her mouth, and it’s like she’s channeling all the energy of the universe.

“Here comes the first baby,” the doctor announces.

Leah bears down and pushes hard, and then, like a miracle, there’s a cry. The doctor holds up a little pink baby.

“It’s a girl,” she announces.

All of a sudden, my face is wet. In the blink of an eye, I’m crying.

Leah reaches for the baby, and they place her on her chest.

“Two more to go!” Taylor cries out.

The next two triplets come much faster. A boy, and then a second boy.

I can’t believe it: three babies. Three little miracles in this room with us.

Leah has tears in her eyes too, and we just stare at each other in wonder as the doctors and nurses rush around us.

“Three healthy babies,” the doctor says, beaming. “Congratulations. You’ve got your hands full now.”

As they clean up the babies and swaddle them, I can’t help but feel like everything is finally okay. Like all of the pain and heartache of the last few months was leading up to this moment, when I would hold my children in my arms and know that it was all worth it.

“That was amazing.” I hold onto the side of the hospital bed, not trusting my knees to work. I’m still crying, crying like I’ve never cried in my whole life.

---