I crouch beside the bassinets, logging temperatures, respiration rates, color, reflexes. My mind catalogs everything automatically, even though I know it’s overkill. Sean’s on the floor, cross-legged, making exaggerated faces until I tell him, “You know they don’t laugh until month four, now, right?”
He turns to me, his face still squeezed into a ridiculous expression, runs a hand through his blond hair, and says, “What are you talking about, dude?”
“Yeah, dude, that’s just his face,” Rowan chides from the kitchen. His sleeves are rolled up as he puts ingredients together and tries to come up with something edible. Nothing in the house appears to be amendable to an edible arrangement. When he catches Willow watching, he smiles, small and real. “Don’t start,” he warns. “I’m still waiting for this to prove temporary.” He says it, but his voice tells me he knows he’s safe. In fairness, to give him his due, he’s grand at pretending he isn’t settled.
“It’s not,” she says in the same sing-songy tone, teasing.
His eyes flick to mine across the room. Neither of us speaks, but we both hear what she didn’t say aloud:It never was.
Later, when the triplets finally drift into synchronized sleep, the house goes strangely quiet. The silence feels earned. Willow dozes on the couch, pale and beautiful and utterly spent. Sean collapses beside her with a groan that could rattle plaster. Rowan sits on the floor, drawing on a canvas an image for Willow to paint later when she’s up to it.
I fold baby blankets as a ritual to keep my hands busy, though tonight is the busiest they’ve been since my days in the residency.
Sean breaks the quiet first, his hand on Willow’s thigh. “So, anyone want to finish our conversation from before?”
I look up from my pile of baby blankets. “Which one?”
He gestures vaguely between all of us. “You know which one.” When none of us speak, he continues, “I mean, look, the occasional emotional orgy is fun too, but?—”
I interrupt, “Is this about me saying?—”
“It’s about,” Sean confirms, his hand patting Willow’s thigh now, like a nervous tic. He pats then rubs, and shemmm’ssleepily.
My body goes cold at the reminder. I had been mid-stroke, Sean holding her up in front of me. It was a barbaric display of lust, and all I’d been able to think about was how much I loved her. When I said it, I didn’t think about how any of them would feel. I didn’t care. I barely care now.
Rowan freezes mid-drawing and looks up. “Sean, lay off him. It was a lot that day.”
Willow stirs, blinking sleepily. “Sean.”
He lifts a hand, gentler now. “I’m not mad. I just want to finish the conversation. We were so busy arranging co-parenting, and…I feel like I keep saying this, but I’m in. Can we just say it?”
“Say what, Sean?” Rowan asks lazily, going back to drawing.
The air thickens. This isn’t about logistics anymore; it’s about territory, loyalty, and love. My voice comes out calmer than I feel. “She’s been through enough. I like things how they are.”
Rowan meets my eyes and nods once. “Agreed.”
Sean exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what, we just—what? Share?”
“I’m not a toy on the playground,” Willow mumbles through her sleep, her cheek and eye smashed against the couch.
I nod and say softly, “Right. We wouldn’t besharingher. We’d be…together. A unit.”
“A family,” Rowan corrects gently, then cringes at himself, looking back down at his drawing of a willow tree.
Sean studies me for a long second, then glances at Willow. “That what you want? To live together and be…a unit?”
She sighs, voice barely above a whisper. “I just want peace. And sleep.”
Sean huffs a laugh, tension cracking. “Peace and sleep. Deal. Deal, so?”
Rowan’s mouth twitches. “I can manage that.”
I nod. “We can finish the schedule another time.”
That earns a low groan from both of them, but no one argues. The rhythm of us—strange, improbable, steady—resettles like a heartbeat finding its pattern again.
Sean hums something tuneless under his breath. Rowan finishes his drawing and shows Willow, who looks up sleepily and smiles, kissing his cheek. Neither of us intervenes. I finish folding the last blanket and bring it to the nursery, opening the blanket drawer and putting it away. I come back and take the big blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over Willow and Sean’s arm, still connected to her thigh. He smiles at me and mouths,“Thanks.” I smile back and push her hair off her forehead before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her sleepy mouth.
