Page 36 of Triplet Babies for the CEO

It’s just a precaution. It doesn’t mean anything yet. Right?

Not looking where I’m going,I round the corner to the counter and nearly collide with her.

I stop short, and the world slows down as I see Gemma’s eyes widen, looking from me to the boxes in my hands.

The boxes nearly slip from my fingers, and my heart races so fast I can barely breathe.

My breath catches, and for a split second, I feel like I might drop everything, like I might crumble on the spot.

“Oh, uh…” I stammer, my cheeks burning as though I’ve been caught red-handed. “I didn’t see you there.”

Gemma’s gaze immediately flicks down to the items in my hands and lingers for a split second, her eyes widening in surprise before snapping back up to meet mine.

Her expression is unreadable, caught somewhere between curiosity and shock, and my mind races for something to explain why I’m standing here with pregnancy tests clutched in my hands.

Gemma raises an eyebrow, but her expression stays cooly neutral, though I can tell questions are dancing behind her blue eyes.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my cool as I sidestep her, my movements clumsy, and hurry toward the cashier before she can say anything.

My stomach feels like it’s in knots as I place the tests on the counter, watching the cashier ring me up without even looking at me. I practically throw my card at him, mumbling a hasty “thanks” as I take the small bag and tuck it under my arm, hoping it’s enough to hide what’s inside.

As I turn back, I can feel Gemma’s topaz gaze burning into me, the weight of her unspoken questions heavy in the air between us.

She doesn’t comment, nor does she question me, and for that, I’m grateful.

But, instead, the silence that stretches as we walk back to the car feels louder than any words. I fight to keep my expression calm under her silent scrutiny, though my mind is spinning.

Once we’re both back in her car, Gemma wastes no time. She doesn’t even start the engine, just turns to me, her gaze piercing, her voice as blunt as a hammer. “So, if you’re pregnant…is it Brody’s?”

Her directness hits me like a slap, and I feel all the air leave my lungs. I open my mouth, searching for words, but nothing comes out right away. “Yeah…it would have to be.”

My voice sounds small, almost like it belongs to someone else, and I feel the weight of what I’ve just admitted to settling over me, thick and suffocating.

For a moment, Gemma says nothing. The silence fills every corner of the car, stretching out heavy and tense.

I can feel my face flush, shame and worry flooding me.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, I blurt out, “I know what you must be thinking. You probably think I’m just after his money or something…that I’m trying to trap him, but it’s not like that. I swear.”

My voice trembles softly, and I feel the tears I’ve been holding back start to prick at the corners of my eyes. I look down quickly, twisting my fingers together in my lap, too ashamed to meet her gaze.

I want to tell her that I never planned this, that I never wanted to end up in a situation that would make people question my intentions, but the words stick in my throat, tangled up with everything else I can’t quite say.

Gemma sighs, her gaze softening. “Tasha…” she says quietly, reaching for my hand, but her tone is kind, not accusing.

My shoulders shake as the sobs come, silent but fierce, years of worry and doubt and fear bubbling to the surface, all spilling out in front of the last person I want to see me fall apart.

The gentleness in her voice undoes me, and before I can stop it, the tears spill over. I turn away, staring out the window as I try to gather myself, but the weight of everything is just too much.

I can’t bear to look at her, can’t stand the thought of seeing pity in her eyes. She must think I’m just another silly, naive girl who’s let herself get in way over her head—and maybe she’s right. I feel like a fool, like every worst fear I’ve ever had is coming true.

I think of my mother who was a teen mom, and I cringe. I wanted so much not to do this. I wanted to get my life together,have a career, travel, get married—all before I had kids. And yet, here I am, the same kind of screw-up as my whole family had always been.

The thoughts echo in my mind, cruel and taunting, and I bite down on my lip to keep the sobs from spilling over, though I’m losing that battle fast.

What will Brody think? What will everyone think?

Just when I think I can’t handle another moment, Gemma reaches over and squeezes my hand. Her touch is firm, grounding, and when she speaks, her voice is soft, laced with unexpected kindness.

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