Page 152 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
I’m sitting on the metal stairs of the fire escape on the west side of the building. The wind whipping my hair is hot and humid, but I feel freezing cold.
I need my mom.
I pull out my phone, my fingers hovering over her name. I shouldn’t call her. I can’t tell her the truth. She’ll be disappointed. She’ll be utterly horrified, and she’ll tell me I was horribly reckless.
But I need her.
I dial.
“Tessa!” My mom’s voice answers on the second ring, incredibly warm and cheerful. “Honey, hi! We were just talking about you. Your dad saw the article online about the funding. Fifty million! We are so unbelievably proud!”
The pure pride in her voice makes my throat tighten so hard I can barely breathe.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice violently trembling. “It’s… it’s great news, Mom.”
“You sound tired, sweetie. Are they working you too hard?”
“Just… yeah. It’s been a really long week.”
“Well, you make sure those boys take care of you,” she says sternly. “I know they’re bigshot CEOs now, but I still remember when Owen got his head stuck in our banister. You tell them I said to let you sleep.”
I let out a wet, shaky laugh that sounds dangerously close to a sob. “I will.”
“Is everything okay, Tess? You sound so… small.”
I press the heel of my hand against my forehead, trying to physically hold my composure together. I want to tell her. I want to scream: Mom, I’m pregnant. Mom, I’m in love with three men. Mom, I think I just ruined my entire life.
But I can’t. Not over the phone. Not when they are so incredibly proud of me. Not when my dad is probably bragging to the neighbors right now about his successful daughter.
“I’m just stressed,” I lie. “The pressure… It's a lot right now. The new contract has some extremely strict rules.”
“Oh, baby,” she sighs. “You’ve always taken on the weight of the world. Just remember, no job is worth your health. If it ever becomes too much… you can always come home. Your room is exactly how you left it. We can make lasagna.”
Home.
The pure safety of it immediately calls to me. A world where Morality Clauses don’t exist, where I’m just Tessa—not the voice of Mosaic, and definitely not the woman actively destroying the Branson brotherhood.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper. “I… I might visit soon.”
“We’d absolutely love that. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up.
I sit there on the metal steps for a long time, gripping the phone. I have a massive secret actively growing inside me—one with a heartbeat.
I glance at the glass door leading back into the office. Through the window, the bullpen is clearly visible. Asher walks past holding a tablet, pausing to look around the room, probably scanning the floor for me.
My heart aches. It physically hurts my chest.
I love them. God help me, I really love them. And that is exactly why I can’t tell them.
Not yet.
If I tell them, Ethan will tear up the contract. He’ll blindly choose me. He’ll lose the money, and he’ll lose the company.
I absolutely can’t let him do that.
