Page 1 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
Chapter One
Blossom
I sit at the small, creaky desk in the corner of our barely furnished studio apartment, staring at the cracked window panes that never quite close all the way.
The faint whistling of the wind sneaks through the gaps, and I pull the knitted blanket tighter around me.
The ceiling’s covered in water stains, a constant reminder of the leaky roof above us that the landlord hasn’t bothered to fix.
Every time it rains, I half-expect it to cave in on us.
For now, though, I’m more focused on the email sitting in my inbox.
I press my fingers against the keyboard hesitantly, like maybe I can slow down time if I take my sweet time opening it.
The subject line reads, “Emergency Wedding Photographer Needed – Tomorrow.” It’s my shot.
I tap the mouse, and the email opens. It’s from a wedding coordinator I’ve worked with before. Her original photographer bailed at the last minute, and she’s asking if I can step in.
I scan the details quickly. A high-end wedding. In the city. Tomorrow. My heart starts beating a little faster. This could be my big break.
I hear Amy in the next room, humming as she changes after getting home from work. Her bright blue eyes peek around the doorframe, her blonde bob bouncing with every step. “Well?” she asks, practically bouncing on her heels.
I don’t even say anything. Instead, I turn the screen toward her. Her eyes widen, and she gasps.
“You got it! That’s amazing, Bee!” she squeals, flinging her arms around me, almost knocking over the mug of iced mocha I’ve had next to me for hours.
I stare at the email again, unable to wipe the grin off my face. Igot it. I really got it. This is my chance to step up. The gig is huge, well, for me at least. A high-end wedding in the city? This is exactly the kind of opportunity I’ve been dying for. But then reality hits. The excitement fades as fast as it came.
I turn to Amy, my voice dropping slightly. “But the bartending gig at the Hudson Hotel...I’m still not sure. What if I mess up?” I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Amy rolls her eyes, walking into the room with her hands on her hips. “First of all, you’reamazingat photography. You know that. Second of all, I’m the one who’s got your back at the bar. It’s a fancy hotel, Bee. You can handle it. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? You mix up a drink, but people still get drunk, and they’ll love you anyway.”
“Right,” I mutter, unsure. “It’s just...what if I’m terrible? What if they fire me?”
“You’ve got this, Bee. You know how to work a camera and a cocktail shaker—just give it a shot.” Amy grins, her infectious optimism outweighing my doubts. "Besides, we need the cash."
I nod, trying to steady my nerves. Amy’s right. I can do this.
Amy’s already on her phone, offering me a last-minute pep talk as she heads out the door. “You need to calm down. No risk, no reward, right? This is like the time we snuck into that club in Jersey anddidn’tget caught. It’s the same thing, but with more fancy people and way more expensive drinks.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. Amy’s all jokes and snark, but she’s also one of the most optimistic people I know. She always knows how to make me feel like everything will be fine.
“Yeah, I guess. No reward if I mess up, though,” I grumble, my eyes still scanning the email for any new details I might have missed.
Amy stops in the doorway, throwing a wink over her shoulder. “No one’s gonna remember the girl who mixed up the Cosmopolitan. But the girl who landed a gig at awedding? That’s the girl people remember. You’vegotthis.”
I feel a little bit more at ease, and it helps that Amy’s enthusiasm is as infectious as ever.
“You’re right. Okay, let's celebrate. Even if we don’t have much cash, we’re going to enjoy tonight.”
Amy’s eyes light up. “Pizza and cheap wine. It’s the New York way, Bee.”
The city’s pulse wraps around us as we step outside. Manhattan is electric tonight, the lights flashing and the honking taxis weaving through the streets.
The sidewalks are crowded with people of all kinds, tourists snapping pictures, locals with a look of purpose on their faces, and the occasional businessman in a suit who looks like he’s just walked off the set ofSex and The City.
The air smells like street food and exhaust, but it’s all part of the charm.
