Chapter 114 This...Go Away

Chapter 114 This...Go Away
Owen didn't hesitate. He immediately pushed away from the massive island and followed her straight down the hall toward the laundry room and the attached powder room.
And, of course, a very worried Olive and Hazel toddled right behind him.
Leona was leaning over the sink, splashing cold water on her face, when Owen leaned his massive frame against the doorjamb. He crossed his arms over his chest, and even though she wasn't looking at him, Leona could absolutely hear the smug, knowing smirk in his voice.
"You okay, babe?"
Leona grabbed a hand towel, shooting him a dark glare through the mirror. "I'm so glad my absolute misery is so amusing to you."
Before Owen could reply, two tiny bodies pushed their way onto the scene. Olive expertly squeezed right between Owen's sturdy legs, her little brow furrowed with concern as she reached up to gently pat Leona's leg.
"You ok, Momma?" Olive asked softly.
Right behind her, Hazel managed to stick her curly head between Owen's knees, looking up at her mother with wide eyes. "Momma?"
Leona's heart melted, completely softening her irritation. She crouched down, pressing a kiss to both of their identical curly heads. "I'm fine, girls. Just a tummy ache. Let's go finish breakfast, okay?"
Satisfied that their mother was safe, the two toddlers turned around, squeezing back through their dad's legs, and took off out of the laundry room to get back to their syrup.
Leona tossed the towel onto the counter and moved to step past Owen, fully intending to go back to the kitchen and demand a different breakfast. But before she could walk out the door, Owen casually put his heavy arm up, blocking the exit. He stepped into her space, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest.
He buried his face in her neck, and she could feel his chest rumbling as he laughed softly into her hair.
Leona pushed back just enough to look up at him, her hands resting flat on his chest. "And just what is so funny, Mr. Stark?"
Owen reached up, gently brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his storm-gray eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy. "Do you remember the last time Dad's pancakes had you running to the bathroom? And, if I recall you were throwing up in the middle of that night too. Blaming it on wine and cake."
The absolute truth of his words hit Leona like a freight train. She froze, her eyes widening as she mentally calculated the weeks.
It completely dawned on her.
She immediately spun around, pulling open the bottom vanity drawer where Claire moved her fully stocked "emergency kit" from the days when she was actively trying not to get pregnant. Leona dug through the supplies and pulled out a small, sealed pink box.
She turned back to Owen, holding the box up with a look on her face that was half-smile, half absolute panic. "This... go away."
Owen chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender as he stepped back into the laundry room and pulled the door mostly shut, giving her privacy.
Leona took the test with trembling hands, setting it flat on the bathroom counter. She didn't even have to wait the full three minutes. Almost instantly, the digital screen flashed with a bold, undeniable word: Pregnant.
Leona let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. She snapped the cap back onto the end of the stick, pulled the bathroom door open, and walked straight past Owen. Without saying a word, she simply pressed the positive test right into his waiting hand.
Leaving a completely stunned, thrilled billionaire in the laundry room, Leona walked back into the bustling kitchen.
Avoiding the pancakes entirely, she went straight to the stainless-steel refrigerator, grabbed a strawberry yogurt, and sat calmly back down on her barstool.
In their matching high chairs, Olive and Hazel were happily covered in syrup, munching on their sausage. Olive paused, holding a sticky piece of pancake in her fist. "You ok, Momma?"
A second later, Owen stepped out of the hallway. He slid the plastic stick into his pocket, his devastating dimples on full display as he walked up behind Leona's stool.
"Yeah," Owen announced to the kitchen, his voice thick with emotion. "Momma's ok. I think."
He stepped up beside her, gently lifting her chin with his finger so she had to look up at him. "You are ok, aren't you, Leo?"
Leona nodded at him, a massive, beautiful smile finally crossing her face as the reality settled in. "Yeah, Superman, I'm ok. But what about you?"
Owen leaned down, winking at her as he kissed her lips. "You just said it yourself. I'm Superman."
From across the kitchen island, Claire let out a loud, ringing laugh. She pointed her fork at the two of them. "Hey! This isn't a contest! And if it is, you guys are totally cheating, you already have two!"
Thomas flipped another pancake on the griddle, laughing loudly as he looked over his shoulder. He pointed the spatula directly at Claire. "Not necessarily, Happy Bear! There are triplets in our family tree!"
Claire's jaw dropped. She looked absolutely horrified at the prospect. "You hush, Dad! I just agreed to one!"
Thomas grinned at her, flipping the pancake high into the air before catching it effortlessly back onto the griddle. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll be fine—you've got your mom's hips."
Claire groaned, pressing her forehead against the counter. "Oh my God, that is the worst possible thing you could've said."
Diane looked at her husband highly offended, but he turned around and grabbed her by the waist. "Don't you worry my love, those hips are what caught my eye in the first place." He spun her around playfully and kissed her right on the lips before she could protest.
Leona looks up and was realized, "Wait, hey," she pointed her spoon at Thomas.  "Hey," she shook her head.  "Hey, so not ready. That means there's a chance over here too."
Thomas just grinned and flipped another pancake. "Well, well, well," he mused, "looks like I might need to start stocking up on syrup."
Meanwhile, Hazel—always the observant one—held out a syrup-covered sausage toward Leona like a peace offering. "Momma," she announced solemnly, as if processed pork could cure existential crises.
Owen plucked the sausage from Hazel's fingers before it could drip on the marble counter, popping it into his mouth with an exaggerated wink at Leona. "See? Crisis averted. We've got this parenting thing down."