Page 59 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
The question is out of nowhere, but it feels right. I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness stir in my chest. "Yeah, actually...if you want to." I wait, holding my breath, hoping he won’t hesitate.
Noah grins, his eyes lighting up. "Of course! I’d love to." He sounds excited, and I feel a warmth rush through me. But a small part of me still worries. Will he pull away after?
“It’s a little…I dunno, weird and clinical,” I warm him as I get dressed. I wince a little at the soreness between my legs. Maybe I should ask if we need to be careful from now on, for the sake of the baby.
“It’s a doctor’s appointment,” Noah says back, amused. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
I laugh and nod my head. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” I agree. “I just always feel sort of like a science experiment. It’s like I’m just a container they are looking inside of.”
Noah laughs loudly. “I guess I could see that. Well, you’re the sexiest ‘container’ I’ve ever seen,” he says. “Does that help?”
I roll my eyes and shrug into a sweater. “Yeah, a little,” I grudgingly admit. He presses a kiss to my nose and goes to brush his teeth.
The drive to the doctor’s office is surprisingly comfortable. I love that we can share the kind of silence between us that’s not awkward. I feel Noah’s presence beside me, and even though we’re not saying much, it feels like the calm before something bigger.
“So, what week are you at now?” Noah asks casually, his eyes on the road but his tone full of interest.
“Fourteen weeks,” I reply, glancing over at him.
Noah surprises me by nodding, a little grin playing on his lips. “I know,” he says with a smile.
I blink, staring at him in disbelief. “You know? How do you know?”
He chuckles, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. “I’ve been counting, Blossom. I’m just...trying to keep track. I’ve felt a little…left out, so I started a calendar.”
My heart skips a beat. “I didn’t know you were counting along...” I say, my voice a little breathless. I hadn’t even realized how much I wanted him to be involved, to know these little details. I had just assumed he wouldn’t care.
Maybe I had done that because my dad never cared and wasn’t there. I realize now that I have been selfish with my pregnancy so far. I hadn’t included poor Noah at all beyond telling him about it.
He gives me a sideways smile, his voice full of tenderness. “Well, I’m not going to let the time slip past me. I’m here for all of this.”
I smile back at him, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The worry I had about him pulling away feels a little smaller now, though it’s still there, hiding in the back of my mind.
Childhood trauma is really as big a struggle as people say. I grimace at that and vow to work on some of these hang-ups I didn’t even know I had.
When we pull up to the OBGYN office, I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
Noah seems a little out of place here, his posture stiffer than usual, but there’s an energy around him that makes me smile. He’s excited, I can tell, even if he’s trying to keep it casual.
The waiting room is filled with a mix of expectant mothers, and I can’t help but feel out of place, as if I’m the one who doesn’t belong here even though I feel like I have a beachball belly sticking out in front of me.
But Noah’s beside me, his hand gently holding mine, and it makes everything feel a little easier.
I check in with the receptionist, handing over my paperwork, and Noah quietly takes a seat next to me, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. I know he wants to say something, but he’s trying to keep his cool, waiting for me to lead the way.
We sit quietly, my heart racing slightly.
It’s strange, this feeling of everything moving forward. The waiting room is filled with hushed conversations and the soft sound of magazine pages turning. But in this moment, it’s just Noah and me, waiting for what comes next.
I realize that’s what we’ve been doing all along. Just waiting for what’s next.
Maybe it’s time we start being active, embracing what’s next, directing it, plotting our own course together.
I look at him, my heart light with gratitude. He’s here, beside me, supporting me. And for the first time in a while, I feel like I can breathe.
“It means a lot, you being here,” I reassure him. I look down at our clasped hands and add in a small voice, “It makes up a little for my mom not being here.”
He glances at me in some surprise. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly to me. “I’ve never asked about her. I thought you had told her about the baby.”
