Page 74 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
But what if I stopped running? What if I let myself believe that this time could be different?
I used my key to let myself into Duncan's house, expecting to find chaos. Three toddlers could destroy a room in minutes, and I'd left them with Duncan for nearly four hours. Instead, I found an almost peaceful quiet.
The living room looked lived-in but not destroyed. Toys were scattered across the carpet, but not in the hurricane pattern I'd expected. Picture books lay open on the coffee table, and sippy cups sat on coasters. It looked like a home where children were welcome, where their presence was embraced.
Then I saw them.
Duncan lay on his back on the hardwood floor, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. Sammy was curled against his left side, his small body tucked perfectly into the curve of his arm. His thumb was in his mouth, and hisfavorite stuffed elephant was clutched against his chest. Chrissy had claimed his broad chest as her personal pillow, her dark hair spread across his shirt, her small fist tangled in the fabric. Elena sat on the couch nearby, her favorite book about princesses open in her lap, though she'd fallen asleep with her head tipped back against the cushions.
They looked natural together, like they'd always belonged to each other. The sight of Duncan resting peacefully with our children made my throat tighten with emotion. This was what I'd been afraid of, what I'd been running from—the possibility that they might love him, that he might love them, that everything might fall apart and leave all of us broken. But maybe my fear had been misplaced.
I moved carefully across the room, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. Elena was closest, so I lifted her first, her small body warm and heavy with sleep. She mumbled something unintelligible but didn't wake as I carried her upstairs to the guest room Duncan had set up for them.
Chrissy came next, her grip on Duncan's shirt reluctant to release. I pried her fingers loose gently, whispering soothing words as I lifted her. She settled against my shoulder with a soft sigh, and I carried her upstairs to join her sister.
Sammy was the most challenging, his small body perfectly molded to Duncan's side. He mumbled in protest when I tried to lift him, his thumb falling from his mouth. "Daddy," he whispered, the word so soft I almost missed it.
My heart stopped. He'd never called anyone daddy before. I'd been his entire world for three years, and he'd never expressed interest in fathers or wondered about the absence of one in his life. But now, after one morning with Duncan, he was claiming him with that single, sleepy word.
I carried him upstairs, my hands trembling slightly. The word echoed in my mind as I tucked him into bed next to his sisters. Such a simple word, but it changed everything.
When I returned to the living room, Duncan was sitting up, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled from small bodies and grasping hands. He looked younger somehow, more relaxed than I'd ever seen him.
"How long was I out?" he asked, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Long enough for them to use you as a personal jungle gym." I settled onto the couch where Elena had been sleeping, tucking my legs under me. "They're not usually so trusting with new people."
"Maybe they know." He shifted to face me, his blue eyes serious. "How did the scan go?"
"Good. Better than good. No signs of spread. The tumors are responding well to treatment."
"Ivy, that's incredible news."
"It is." I picked at the hem of my sweater, the same navy blue thread I'd been worrying in the hospital waiting room. "I fought with Dad again."
"About me."
"About us. About the choices I made four years ago. About the lies I've been telling."
Duncan moved to the couch, careful to leave space between us but close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the warmth radiating from his body. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. "What did he say?"
"That I've been running from the consequences of my choices. That I was too scared to come home and face what I'd done." I stared at the floor, the words tasting like metal in my mouth. I met his eyes. "He wasn't wrong."
"You were protecting yourself. Protecting them." Duncan's voice softened as he turned to face me more fully, one hand resting on the couch cushion between us.
"Was I? Or was I just being a coward?" I lifted my head, searching his face for something I couldn’t name.
"You were twenty years old, pregnant, and terrified. You did what you thought was best." He spoke carefully like he was trying not to hurt me.
"Did I? Because looking back, I'm not sure I made any of the right choices." My throat tightened, but I forced the words out anyway.
Duncan was quiet for a long moment, his hands folded in his lap. He shifted, eyes distant, then looked straight at me. "I've been thinking about that night. About what happened between us."
"Duncan—" I reached out, but my hand froze halfway to his.
"I knew it was wrong. I knew I was crossing a line I'd promised your father I'd never cross. But I did it anyway." He ran a hand down his face, like scrubbing away the memory. He looked stricken with grief and guilt and I knew how he felt.
"I seduced you," I said, almost a whisper. My voice barely made it past the lump in my throat.
