Page 70 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

"I'm going to print some images for you to take home," Marissa says, tapping at the keyboard.

"Thanks," I whisper, imagining Charlie's face when I show him the ultrasound pictures. Will he be excited? Terrified? Will this send him running in the opposite direction?

Dr. Thompson wipes the gel from my stomach with practiced efficiency. "We'll want to discuss nutrition. With twins, you'll need more calories, more rest. Your body is working double-time now."

I nod, trying to focus, trying to be the responsible adult that two babies will need me to be. But inside, I'm totally losing it. One baby was already a stretch for our fledgling relationship. How are we supposed to handle two?

"Do you have any questions right now?" Dr. Thompson asks, studying my face.

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up. I have nothingbutquestions. How will my body manage this? What will happen with work? Will Charlie and I survive? Instead, I ask the only one I can get out: "When will I feel them move?"

"Around 16 to 20 weeks, typically. Sometimes a bit earlier with twins because there's less room in there." She smiles. "Any other questions?"

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. Everything feels so overwhelming right now.

"I'll give you a moment to get dressed, then meet me in my office to discuss next steps." Dr. Thompson squeezes my shoulder gently before leaving the room.

Alone again, I button my jeans and pull down my blouse with trembling hands. The paper crinkles as I sit up, staring atthe frozen image still displayed on the ultrasound monitor—two distinct shapes in a sea of black.

Twins. I press my palms against my eyes, forcing back the tears that threaten to spill. I need to be strong. I need to figure this out.

But all I can think about is Charlie, completely unaware that our lives have just become twice as complicated. I try to imagine his reaction—the initial shock, the recalculation of everything we've planned.

I wrap my arms around my middle, a protective gesture for the two lives growing inside me. "It's okay," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm reassuring them or myself. "We'll figure this out."

But even as I say it, the little voice in my head asks: Will we? Can Charlie commit to one baby, let alone two? How am I going to do this alone if he can't?

Chapter 22

Charlie

My shoulders ache from flying for seventeen hours as I climb the steps to Tess's front porch, the weight of missed connections and delayed flights still weighing down on me. The porch light casts a warm glow across the welcome mat and I pause, rehearsing my apologies for missing yesterday's appointment one last time. My palms are sweaty against the small gift bag in my hand, a peace offering of Bolivian chocolates that suddenly seems pathetically inadequate.

I knock and wait, checking my watch. Eight-thirty. Later than I'd promised, but my flight only landed at six, and I had to drop by my place first to feed Hans and grab a shower.

The image of Tess sitting alone in that doctor's office has been gnawing at me since yesterday. Our text exchanges were brief—she assured me everything was fine, the baby looked healthy, and she'd tell me all about it when I got back.

The door swings open, and there she is—hair loose around her shoulders, wearing leggings and a loose T-shirt. My chest tightens at the sight of her.

"Hey," I say, stepping forward to kiss her. She kisses me back but it feels tentative. "I'm so sorry about yesterday."

"I know," she says, her eyes looking weary. "Come in. I made some tea."

I follow her inside, my eyes drawn to the gentle sway of her hips as she walks into the kitchen. Nothing in her appearance has changed, but knowing she's carrying our child makes me look at her differently now.

"How was Bolivia?" she asks, pouring hot water into two mugs. She doesn't look up as she asks this, focusing intently on filling the mugs. Her hand trembles slightly.

"Productive. We secured the deal. Five years of premium beans. It’s what I hoped for." I set the gift bag on the counter. "I brought you something."

Her smile is small but genuine as she peeks into the bag. "Thank you. You know how much I love chocolate."

We settle on her couch, a small distance between us that somehow feels like miles. Her cat, Art, gives me his usual curious stare from his perch on the bookshelf before turning his attention back to cleaning his huge paws.

"So," I say, taking a sip of herbal tea, "tell me about the appointment."

Tess sets her mug down carefully on a coaster and reaches for a folder on the coffee table. "The doctor said everything looks good. Healthy development, strong heartbeat." She pauses, fingers hesitating on the edge of the folder. "There's something else, though."

My stomach drops. I set my mug down too quickly, tea sloshing over the rim. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

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