22. Charlie
Charlie
M y 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?"
"No, no," she says quickly. "The baby is fine. Babies, actually."
"Babies?" I repeat, my voice increasing an octave. I swallow hard.
She opens the folder and hands me a black and white printout. I stare at it, trying to make sense of the grainy image. "I don't understand."
"Twins, Charlie." Her voice is quiet but clear. "We're having twins."
I blink, trying to focus on the ultrasound image again. Tess's finger points to two distinct shapes.
"This one," she says, touching one blob, "and this one. Two separate amniotic sacs. The doctor says they're fraternal."
"Twins," I echo, the word so weighted. My brain scrambles to recalibrate everything—all my careful mental adjustments for one baby suddenly obsolete. Two cribs. Two car seats. Two of everything.
"Are you okay?" Tess asks, her head tilted as she studies my face.
I realize I've been silent too long. "I'm just...surprised." I force a smile that I hope looks more genuine than it feels. "Twins. That's...holy crap…that’s…wow."
"That's exactly what I said." She laughs, but it's a nervous sound. "The doctor thinks I'm about six weeks along. With twins they'll likely come early—around 36 weeks instead of 40."
My mind races through mental calculations. Thirty-six weeks from now lands in the middle of our planned expansion into the Midwest—Chicago and Minneapolis. The two most important market launches in Emerald City Coffee's history. With investors expecting me at every opening, at every meeting.
"Charlie?" Tess's voice pulls me back.
"Sorry, just trying to take it all in." I reach for her hand, needing to anchor myself. Her fingers are cool against my palm. "How are you feeling about all this?"
"Terrified," she admits, and the honesty in her voice cuts through some of my panic. "One baby was already a huge change. But two? I don't know how we're going to manage."
The word "we" hangs between us, full of expectations and assumptions. I squeeze her hand, trying to convince both of us that I'm up to the task.
"We'll figure it out," I say, because what else can I say? "Together."
She studies my face for a moment, like she's searching for something. "The doctor says I'll need to be especially careful. Twin pregnancies are higher risk. More appointments, more monitoring."
"I'll be there," I promise, guilt surging through me as I remember I've already broken this promise once. "For all of it."
"Even with the expansions coming up?" she asks, her gaze steady.
I'd talked about the expansion many times, before we knew about the pregnancy. "I'll make it work."
"How?" she presses.
"I'll delegate more. Shift some responsibilities.
" The words sound hollow even to me. The Chicago launch has been my obsession for months—every detail personally overseen, every decision carefully made.
The idea of stepping back feels wrong. "Sanjay can handle more. I’ve been grooming him for this. "
Tess nods, but I can see she's not convinced. Honestly, neither am I.
I try to picture it—two tiny humans, part Tess, part me. Sleepless nights. First steps. First words. First day of school.
The calendar in my head, already packed with business commitments and travel, explodes into an impossible jumble.
"My mom's going to lose her mind," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. "She's been dropping hints about grandchildren to both Jane and me for over a decade."
Tess smiles, and some of the tension eases from her shoulders. "Jane's already talking about throwing a huge baby shower for us."
I laugh, the sound coming out more naturally this time. "God help us."
She leans into me then, her head resting against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
"We can do this," she whispers, and I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me or herself.
"Of course we can," I reply, pulling her closer. My hand finds its way to her stomach, resting lightly over the place where our babies are growing. The reality of it hits me anew, stealing my breath.
We sit like that for a while, both lost in our thoughts. Eventually, Tess yawns and shifts against me.
"I should go," I say, glancing at my watch. "Let you get some sleep."
She walks me to the door, her hand in mine. At the threshold, I pull her into a tight embrace, trying to pour all my complicated feelings into the gesture.
"I'll call you tomorrow," I promise. "Maybe we can have dinner?"
"I'd like that." She stands on tiptoe to kiss me goodnight, her lips soft against mine.
As I walk to my car, the night air does nothing to clear my head. Twins. The word pounds in my brain with each step. My phone buzzes in my pocket—an email from my assistant about tomorrow's meetings. The ordinary reminder of my already over-scheduled life sends a fresh wave of panic through me.
I slide behind the wheel, but don't start the engine immediately. Instead, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, breathing deeply. How the hell am I supposed to balance one of the biggest business years of my life with becoming a father to twins?
But the image of Tess standing in her doorway, vulnerable and brave, keeps me from completely losing it. Whatever happens, whatever adjustments I have to make, I can't let her down.
The next morning, I’m in the office sifting through stacks of market analysis reports. I've been here since six and I’ve already had three cups of coffee.
I've been back from Bolivia for three days, and I've spent forty-two of the last seventy-two hours in this glass-walled sanctuary, where problems have solutions and every variable can be controlled. Unlike my personal life, which is complete chaos.
I reach for my coffee, grimacing when I find it cold. I press the intercom. "Angela, could you grab me another coffee when you can? Extra sugar."
"On my way, Mr. Astor," comes her immediate reply. She appears at my door moments later, fresh coffee in hand. "You have the Portland real estate team at eight, the marketing presentation at nine-thirty, and the investor call at eleven."
"Perfect." I take the mug, the familiar sweetness a momentary comfort. "Has Sanjay arrived yet?"
"Just pulled into the garage." She gives me a motherly look that I pretend not to notice—the one that says she knows I came in too early and I’m working too hard.
Angela has been with me for many years and she prides herself on keeping a constant check on my mental health.
I pretend to be annoyed sometimes, but I actually really do appreciate it.
“That should be your last cup of coffee today. We don’t want you having one of those caffeine, blood sugar crashes with such a busy day ahead of you.”
I nod, agreeing with her, and finding it funny that’s she’s cutting me off.
When she leaves, I turn back to the projections for our Chicago location. I lose myself in the rhythm of spreadsheets and strategic plans, the familiar dance of business decisions that has always come so naturally to me.
My phone buzzes with a text from Tess: Morning. How's your day looking? Still on for dinner tonight?
I stare at the message, guilt grabbing a hold of me. I've seen her only once since the twins revelation—a rushed dinner where I spent half the time on my phone dealing with a supplier crisis. She was understanding, but the disappointment in her eyes hasn't left my memory.
I type back: Slammed. Might need to raincheck. Will let you know by 5.