Page 147 of Clinically Bewitched
“Becausethe universe is testing me.”
She smiled, and despite everything, despite the terror and the chaos and the absolute certainty that my life was about to become exponentially more complicated, I smiled back.
The universe wanted war?
Fine.
I’d give it war. But I would do it with color-coded spreadsheets and laminated emergency protocols and a support system of colleagues who would mock me relentlessly but help me anyway.
The universe had declared war.
But Julien Darcy didn’t lose.
An hour later, I walked into the conference room at the hospital.
Nathan, Hayden, Gabriel, Quinton, Fitz, and Winnie were already there, sitting around the table, looking at me with expressions ranging from amusement to concern.
“So,” Hayden began. “Triplets.”
“Triplets,” I confirmed.
“Three babies.”
“Yes.”
“At the same time.”
“That’s how triplets work.”
“Just wanted to clarify.” He was grinning. “Because this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’shilarious,” Fitz said. “The universe looked at you, Mr. Control, Mr. Organization, Mr. Color-Coded-Socks, and said, ‘You know what this man needs? THREE BABIES AT ONCE.’”
“The universe,” I said flatly, “is a sadist.”
“The universe is a comedian,” Quinton corrected.
“I need help,” I said.
“We know,” Nathan said. “That’s why we’re here.”
“I need to make a plan.”
“Obviously.”
“A comprehensive plan. Covering every possible scenario.”
“Naturally.”
“With backup plans.”
“Of course.”
“And contingencies for the backup plans.”
“We wouldn’t expect anything less,” Gabriel said, smiling.
