Page 8 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

“No boyfriend since that jacked-up douche from across town?” he asked.

My ex. Nate had never liked him. Thomas hadn’t liked Nate much either.

“I went out to a club a couple of months ago for Camila’s going-away party, but I didn’t drink that much!” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, Nate or myself. “It’s a little hazy, but I wasn’t black-out drunk, I swear. Butsomethingmust have happened…” There was nothing else. No other explanation. I just buried my head in my hands and cried some more.

Nate moved to sit beside me, hesitantly wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I can’t see how!” I shook as I curled my legs up against my chest. Well, I tried to, but couldn’t, because my stomach was in the way. “I thought I was just getting fat!”

“Yeah, me too.”

I looked up at him, horrified.

“In agoodway, Wren. I thought you were getting curvy. It suits you.” His cheeks flushed, which was kind of adorable. He looked down at my stomach. “Three, you say?”

Yeah, nice save, buddy.

I nodded, and he patted my back. “A real blessing.”

This time, I snorted rudely at his words. I didn’t feel blessed. I felt cursed. My whole life had been cursed.

“I need to get drunk, but I can’t,” I muttered, flopping back and sinking into Nate’s warmth, even though I’d regret it later when I relived this horrifying encounter over and over. “I’m going to have to move, because how will I take babies up and down the stairs? Plus, Mrs. B. doesn’t want to spend her remaining years listening to babies screaming their lungs out. But I can’t afford anywhere else.

“My boss will fire me, because I probably won’t be able to work for the last trimester, since triplet pregnancies are dangerous. I wouldn’t be able to lean out the drive-thru window to hand people coffee anyway. I won’t be able to afford the doctor’s bills. Or the hospital bills. I’ll be paying the babies off until they’re thirty. Not that they’ll be speaking to me by thirty, because I’ll have had to raise them all under a bridge in our three-room cardboard box, since I won’t be able to afford to keep a roof over their heads?—”

Nate placed his hand over my mouth to stop the absolute vomit of words from tumbling out. Was it weird his hand kind of tasted nice? Like vanilla or something.

“Wren, no one is kicking you out of here. Mrs. Byrne is going to be over the moon. She couldn’t have children herself.” I hadn’t known that. “You can move into this apartment, and I’ll move to the top level. There’ll still be stairs, but not as many.”

I was going to cry again, but I swallowed the tears down. “That’s really nice of you, but you’re what, six hundred feet tall? You aren’t going to fit in the top-level apartment.” The third-floor apartment had lower ceilings to account for the eaves. It didn’t bother me, but I was short as hell. Nate was not. He’d be insanely uncomfortable up there; I couldn’t do that to him.

A low grumble in his chest made me look up at him, suddenly acutely aware that I was snot-balling all over a guy I barely knew. He shook his head at me. “Take the help, woman. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t offer. You’re going to need it, and you aren’t in the position to turn it down out of stubborn pride.”

I swallowed hard. He was right. So fucking right. “Okay,” I agreed meekly.

We sat in silence, and I stared at the painting on the wall opposite his couch. He didn’t even have a TV. Just that massive painting. It had a whole herd of horses running over green grass, their manes spread out behind them in the breeze. Below them was what appeared to be a farmhouse made of stone. It was a beautiful painting. I could see why he liked it.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered the words, but Nate heard anyway.

His huge hand stroked circles over my shoulders. “Doctor’s appointments, I imagine. A lot of them.”

I gave a mirthless laugh. “I hope they let me pay the bill with sexual favors, because I have no money.” I sighed heavily, closing my eyes against reality for just a second. “I’m so fucked.”

He may have replied, but exhaustion dragged me down into oblivion.

Chapter 4

WREN

The next day, I stared at myself for way too long in the mirror, trying to work out how I’d been so delusional to think the little round podge of my belly had been gas. Or like, a big burrito. Or just extra chub. It was hard and round, and the more I stared, the more it couldn’t be anything but a pregnant stomach.

I’d always been a little soft around the middle. Wide hips, a little pooch. I was never one of those flat-belly babes out in their bikinis every summer, getting a golden tan. So I’d kinda just assumed I was putting on weight because I was basically eating potatoes and Rossi’s subs every day.

Sighing, I buttoned up my stretchiest pair of work pants and a sweater that was pretty but also baggy. I had to hide my pregnancy from Bob for just a little longer; he didn’t need an excuse to fire me. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a filing cabinet full of people who wanted to replace me.

I walked to work, my brain running a million miles an hour. I needed to find a doctor closer to my house, because there was no way I could keep traveling to the other side of town for my appointments. Luckily, Mrs. Byrne’s house was ina nice neighborhood of Boston, and there were some good OB-GYN around. None I could actually afford, but I’d done some Googling last night and had scared myself into forking over the money.

The risks for me, and for the babies—they were huge. Multiple births were an anomaly, but triplets were even more so. With each extra baby came a higher risk factor. At least I could be thankful I wasn’t having quintuplets.

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