Page 158 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“Terrified,” I answer immediately. “And shocked. And… weirdly, not horrified. Which feels concerning.”

She nods slowly.

“That’s normal.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You just got life-altering news. Your brain’s throwing darts at a board.”

I laugh through tears.

“There are three possible fathers,” I whisper.

Millie leans back.

“Okay,” she says carefully. “Yes. That complicates things.”

“Complicates?” I repeat. “Millie, that is not the word.”

She winces. “Fair.”

I drop my head into my hands.

“What am I supposed to do?” I say. “Tell Wayne? Tell Fletcher? Tell Rex? Do I send a group text? ‘Hey guys, surprise!’”

She snorts.

“Don’t joke,” I groan.

“I’m not,” she says. “I’m coping.”

She squeezes my hands again.

“Listen to me,” she says more seriously. “You don’t have to decide everything today.”

“But I do,” I argue. “Because this is happening now. Inside me. And I can’t just ignore it.”

“No,” she agrees gently. “You can’t ignore it. But you can choose how you handle it.”

My throat tightens.

“I don’t even know what I want,” I admit. “Part of me is panicking about logistics and paternity tests and small-town gossip. And part of me is… thinking about a baby.”

The word feels fragile in my mouth.

Millie’s expression softens.

“Alright,” she says quietly. “Then that’s the part we start with.”

I blink at her.

“You have to decide what you want,” she says. “Before you decide how to tell them. Before you find out who the father is. Before you spiral into worst-case scenarios.”

I swallow.

“What if I don’t know?” I whisper.

“Then you take a day,” she says firmly. “Or two. You sit with it. You talk to your doctor. But you do not make a decision because you’re scared.”