5
Phoenix
“What are you doing?” Corbin’s voice makes me jump.
I turn, standing on the small step stool in the kitchen. “I’m trying to reach the mixing bowl. I’m making brownies.”
He shakes his head like I’m crazy as he rushes over to me, worried my very life hangs in the balance. “Get down, right now.”
He holds out his hand and helps me down the two steps. “Keep your feet on the ground. Or preferably, put your feet up.”
I roll my eyes. “So, are you going to be cooking me brownies then?”
He climbs up the ladder and grabs the mixing bowl. “Waylon!”
I smile as my other brother runs into the room.
“What?” His hair is frazzled, and his eyes big with concern as he looks to my swollen belly and then up to my face, expecting some kind of emergency. I’m not due for at least another month, but my three brothers all treat me like I’m going to pop at any second.
“Do I need to bring the car around?” Maxwell darts into the kitchen.
I just laugh at the three idiots. I love them, but they are all too much sometimes.
“No! Nothing is wrong. Apparently, Dr. Corbin here has decided that I’m no longer able to climb the two steps up on a step ladder to grab a mixing bowl or cook myself some brownies,” I say.
“Brownies, I’m on it!” Waylon says, grabbing the bowl from Corbin before flying over to the pantry to start grabbing ingredients.
I sigh. There is no use arguing with them.
“You. Couch. Now,” Corbin says.
Maxwell runs to my side, taking my hand like I can’t even walk without support. He helps me into the living room and onto the sofa.
“When is Martin getting off?” I ask Maxwell.
I know that Martin is working on his last deal before the babies arrive. It’s a deal with a partner we’ve worked with a hundred times—a Mr. Dunn. Smuggling drugs is a dangerous business, but it’s made my family infinite amounts of money. The business has made us all happy.
Until I fell in love.
Until I got pregnant.
Now, my fiancé and three brothers will stop at nothing to protect me and the babies I carry—including them giving up the business that has provided for us all these years.
What are we going to do once we give up smuggling drugs?
Be incredibly fucking happy; that’s what.
We have more money than we need to survive.
We have three babies on the way that we can all give plenty of love to.
We all have hobbies we can spend more time enjoying.
My brothers can find time to date—to fall in love and fill this house with more babies, more happiness.
Just one more job, and then this is all over.
My eyes drift shut. It’s exhausting work carrying around triplets.