Carla Rivera adjusted her sunglasses as she strutted through Westania International Airport, her long coat billowing behind her like she was walking a runway instead of heading for a departure gate. Behind her, Geraldine stumbled along, juggling an oversized sketchpad and a coffee cup that sloshed dangerously with every step. Frances, meanwhile, marched ahead of them, her heels clicking with purpose, and a folder of travel itineraries clutched to her chest like it contained the secrets of the universe.
"Can you at least pretend we're going on the same trip, Frances?" Carla called after her eldest-by-four-minutes sister.
Frances stopped, turned, and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Some of us take vacations seriously. Just because you treat everything like a joke doesn't mean I will."
"I don't treat everything like a joke," Carla retorted, adjusting her sunglasses with an exaggerated flourish. "Just… most things."
"Can we talk about how Frances is more stressed about our vacation than she is about actual work?" Geraldine interjected, nearly tripping over her own suitcase.
Frances let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm not stressed. I'm organized. There's a difference, something you two wouldn't understand."
Carla smirked. "Ah, yes. Frances Rivera, Queen of Spreadsheets and Color-Coded Pens."
"Mock me all you want, Carla," Frances shot back, "but if I left this trip to you, we'd probably end up stranded on a goat farm in the middle of nowhere."
"Hey, that goat farm was a great Airbnb!" Carla protested.
"Only because the goats liked you more than I did that week," Frances replied coolly.
Geraldine giggled. "They did follow her everywhere. It was like watching a Disney princess come to life."
"Okay, enough," Carla said, waving a hand. "Let's focus on what's really important: Why do you get to decide where we're sitting on the plane, Frances?"
"Because I booked the tickets," Frances said, resuming her march toward the gate.
"That doesn't mean you get to put me in the middle seat," Carla argued, quickening her pace to catch up.
"You're the smallest," Frances said simply. "It's only fair."
"I'm the smallest?" Carla repeated, scandalized. "I'm two inches taller than Geraldine!"
"Barely!" Geraldine chimed in. "And my hair adds at least three more inches!"
"Your hair doesn't count!" Carla snapped.
"Then neither do your heels," Geraldine shot back.
Frances stopped abruptly, spinning around to face them. "You know what? Maybe you two should sit together so you can argue at 30,000 feet instead of here."
"I'd rather sit next to a goat," Carla muttered under her breath.
"Why are you like this?" Frances asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
"Because we're triplets," Geraldine said, grinning. "It's in our DNA."
"And whose idea was it to be born first?" Carla asked Frances with mock accusation.
"Technically, I didn't have a choice," Frances replied dryly. "But you're welcome for leading the way."
Before Carla could fire back, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.
"I don't know whether to be entertained or terrified."
All three sisters turned in unison to see Liam Nolan standing a few feet away, grinning like he'd just walked into a sitcom. Behind him, Perce stood with his arms crossed, his expression somewhere between curiosity and exasperation.
"Is this a private argument, or can anyone join?" Liam asked, his tone light and teasing.
Carla groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Of all the airports in all the cities in all the world…"
Geraldine, however, perked up instantly. "Liam! Fancy meeting you here!"
"You know this guy?" Frances asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"We met briefly," Geraldine said, suddenly bashful.
"By 'briefly,' she means during my bike crash," Geraldine clarified. "It was a whole thing."
Frances looked unimpressed. "Great. Another audience for your clumsiness."
"Hey, I wasn't the only one who made an impression," Geraldine said, tilting her head toward Carla.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Carla said quickly, straightening her sunglasses.
Liam stepped forward, his grin widening. "You don't remember? My brother here couldn't stop talking about you after the accident."
Carla raised an eyebrow, glancing at Perce. "Is that so?"
Perce's expression didn't waver. "I wouldn't say that."
"You wouldn't say it, but you were definitely thinking it," Liam teased, earning a sharp look from his brother.
"You're Perce's brother?" Frances asked, her sharp eyes darting between the two men. "The CEO of Nolan Enterprises?"
"The one and only," Perce said, his tone cool and measured.
Carla crossed her arms, her smirk returning. "Funny, you don't look as terrifying as the business blogs make you out to be."
"And you don't look as charming as the tabloids suggest," Perce replied smoothly.
The sisters gasped in unison.
"Ouch!" Geraldine exclaimed. "Are we just throwing shade now?"
"Apparently," Carla said, her smirk deepening. "But that's okay. I don't need his approval to feel fabulous."
"Clearly," Perce said, his expression unreadable.
Liam cleared his throat, stepping between them. "So, where are you ladies headed?"
"Vacation," Frances answered curtly, sensing the growing tension. "You?"
"Business," Liam replied. "Lutoll. Big meetings, big deals, you know the drill."
"Ah, the glamorous life of billionaires," Carla quipped. "So thrilling."
"Speaking of thrilling," Geraldine said, nudging Liam, "I heard Lutoll has an amazing art district. You should check it out."
"I'll keep that in mind," Liam said, his grin softening into something more genuine.
"Great," Frances interjected. "Now that introductions are out of the way, can we please get to our gate before Carla decides to start a full-blown debate with someone else?"
As the triplets walked away, Geraldine whispered loudly, "I like him."
"Which one?" Frances asked.
"Both," Geraldine replied, giggling.
Behind them, Liam turned to Perce, his grin practically glowing. "She likes me."
Perce ignored him, his gaze lingering on Carla as she disappeared into the crowd.