Triplet Babies for the CEO: An Age Gap Billionaire Romance by Summer James

Author:Summer James [James, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2025-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Tasha

Driving through town, Gemma’s gaze keeps flicking over to me, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“So…you look a little pale. What’s going on, Tasha?” she asks, her tone light but with that sharp edge of concern that tells me she’s noticed more than I’d like her to.

She’s perceptive, maybe a little too perceptive for me to dodge her questions forever.

“Oh, I’m all right,” I say, trying to sound casual, though my laugh comes out strained. “Just one of those days where you wake up feeling off. Not really sure why.”

The trees are ablaze in fiery reds, deep golds, and rich oranges, their colors spilling across the road as if a painter had taken a brush to the entire landscape. I turn my gaze out the window, hoping the sight of the autumn leaves will calm the tangled mess of nerves in my chest.

The beauty of it is overwhelming, like a living postcard, but even the peaceful scenery can’t loosen the knot of anxiety inside me.

The golden sunlight filters through the canopy, casting warm, dappled patterns across the road, the light shifting and dancing. I try to focus on those patterns, to let them soothe me, but my mind is elsewhere, racing over everything.

The possibility of being pregnant, of carrying Brody’s baby, the nerves and fear of it all, sit in my chest like a strange, bittersweet weight, tugging at feelings I can’t even name.

Then there’s Gemma, sitting just a few feet away, unknowingly bringing me closer to the tests that could confirm everything I’ve been fearing and hoping for all at once.

The whole situation feels surreal, heavy with irony and tangled emotions. A pang of guilt sharpens inside me, and I shift uncomfortably, trying not to fidget as Gemma hums along to the radio, lost in the music and seemingly oblivious to the storm inside me.

Still, every now and then, she glances over with a little smile, a quick look of reassurance, and I force myself to smile back, hoping it hides everything I’m feeling.

Please, Gemma, just keep the questions to yourself.

Finally, we pull up to the drugstore, and the building looks like something out of an old movie. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, where shoppers exchange friendly nods and shopkeepers chat with regulars.

Small, tidy flower boxes filled with marigolds and mums sit beneath the windows, while a red and white striped awning shades the entrance.

The small-town charm feels simultaneously comforting and suffocating, as though every set of eyes inside already knows why I’m here.

We step inside as the faint scent of lavender and floor polish fills the air, mixed with the soft hum of conversation from a few patrons scattered about.

Gemma glances down one aisle and grins, gesturing toward the beauty section. “I’ll be over here for a bit,” she says with a wink, making a beeline for the shelves lined with lipsticks and mascara.

I nod, grateful for the space, and offer a quick smile in return, my mind already racing as I turn and head toward the back of the store.

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