Page 65 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

"I know this is a lot," Tess says, her voice small.

A lot. The understatement of the century. I'm terrified. I'm not father material. I never had a good example—my own father's idea of parenting was checking grades and making sure I didn't disgrace the family name. I've barely figured out how totake care of myself, let alone a child. And Tess and I—we're still so new. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.

But I can't say any of that. Not when Tess is sitting there looking so vulnerable, when she's the one whose body will change, whose career might suffer, whose life will alter more dramatically than mine.

"I'm surprised," I say carefully, turning back to face her. "But not upset. We'll figure this out, Tess."

Relief softens her features. "Really?"

"Absolutely," I confirm, with more confidence than I feel. I move back to sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. "Have you thought about... what you want to do?"

Her free hand rests protectively over her stomach. "I know the timing is terrible, but I want this baby." She looks up at me, eyes searching mine. "How do you feel about that?"

How do I feel? How can I answer that honestly? I can’t imagine how this is going to go. But right now, looking at Tess, all I can think is that I don't want to lose her. And if accepting this baby is part of having her in my life...

"If you want this baby, then I want it too," I say, squeezing her hand.

The lie sits uncomfortably on my tongue, but it's not entirely a lie. Part of me—a small, terrified part—is curious about this life we've created, about what our child will be like, how it will feel to be a dad. I’m just overwhelmed by the fear, the doubt, the knowledge of my own inadequacies.

"I'm scared, Charlie," Tess admits, leaning into me slightly. “I don't know the first thing about being a mother."

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Hey, at least we're both equally clueless. We can figure it out together." The warmth of her against my side grounds me, gives me something to focus on beyond my own panic.

I feel her nod her head against my chest.

"I'm here, Tess. I promise." I press a kiss to her temple, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. "We're going to need to make doctor's appointments, right?”

She nods against my shoulder. "I should see my doctor soon. Confirm everything, make sure the baby's okay. And we'll need to tell people eventually, but not until I’m further along."

"Jane," I say, suddenly remembering. "She knows."

"She was with me when I took the test," Tess confirms. "But she won't tell anyone except for Trey.”

"Let's keep it between us for now," I agree, relieved at the thought of postponing telling others. "Give ourselves time to get used to the idea."

Tess yawns suddenly, her body sagging against mine. "I'm exhausted."

"It's been a big day," I say. "Let's get some sleep."

We both undress and Tess slides under the covers, her body curving naturally toward the center of the bed, toward me. I slip in beside her, careful to keep some distance, unsure of what she needs.

She reaches for me, closing the gap. "Hold me?" she asks.

I gather her in my arms, her back against my chest, my hand resting tentatively on her hip She falls asleep surprisingly fast, her breathing deep and even, while I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of responsibility settling over me like a heavy blanket.

I'm going to be a father. The thought repeats over and over again.

I sign the wrong document once again, then swear under my breath as I toss it into the trash. The week since the weddinghas passed in a blur of sleepless nights and distracted days, my mind constantly circling back to one inescapable truth: in approximately eight months, I'm going to be responsible for another human life. The thought makes my beloved coffee turn acidic in my stomach.

"Mr. Astor?" My assistant appears in the doorway. "Mr. Heath is waiting for you at Carmine's. Your lunch appointment was for noon."

I glance at my watch and curse again. 12:10. Shit.

"Thanks," I mutter, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair. "Reschedule my two o'clock. And the three o'clock. Actually, just clear the rest of my day, please."

She nods. "Will do. Should I tell them you're feeling unwell?"

"Tell them whatever you want," I say, already heading for the door. "Just make it believable."

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