Twins For My Bestie’s Brother (Billionaire Daddies)

21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Lily

“ C areful. Put her down here.”

I keep my eyes on my boots as I walk. One step at a time . . .

Jackson and Danforth are on either side of me, thank God. Otherwise, I’d tip right over. I’m afraid to look up again to see the world spinning.

“What’s wrong?” I hear Carina’s voice and her heels clipping across the lobby.

Jackson and Danforth place me on the edge of a chaise lounge in one of the many après lounges at the Zenith. I let out a heavy sigh, wanting to topple over and let my head hang between my legs.

“No, no, no, back,” Jackson instructs, pulling my body back so I can collapse onto a collection of throw pillows.

“We got to the top and everything started spinning,” Danforth explains from somewhere over me. “Dizzy spell. Could be the altitude.”

Carina laughs. “It’s never the altitude.”

I don’t say anything, squinting up at the ceiling, willing the chandelier to stop moving. Carina’s face pops over me, concern evident on her made-up face. However, her forehead doesn’t move even a bit. When do people start getting Botox these days? “Poor thing. Let me get you some champagne.”

“No alcohol,” Jackson says. “Water.”

“Champagne is water,” Carina says flippantly before walking off.

Jackson sighs. He and Danforth exchange a few soft words I decide to ignore. This is so fucking embarrassing. I’m dressed stem to stern in ski clothes, laid out like a fucking invalid in the lounge because I can’t manage to stop this dizziness. It started on the plane and petered out partway through our first day here. The past two days I’ve been able to ski with no problem. But today, I got to the top of the mountain and felt like my legs were about to give out. I would have caused a disaster.

I’m starting to get worried.

I rub my forehead and let out a sigh of frustration as tears prick at my eyes.

Jackson sits at the edge of the chaise beside me. His ski goggles are propped up on his forehead and his face is still red, pricked with cold. “Baby . . . ”

“This is so embarrassing,” I mutter. Crying will only make it worse. I’m already cringing over how many people saw me in this state. From the ski lift to the hill to the walk of shame through the lobby and now the lounge. I don’t need to make anything worse with my emotions.

He unzips the front of my jacket. I didn’t realize how hot I was. “Let’s get this off.”

I sit up as best I can, wincing at the pressure in my head. Thankfully, Jackson is quick to free me from my tomb of heat. “I’m sorry,” I say as I collapse again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I ruined the day. I—my stupid head.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says, and I can tell he means it. And yet my silly little brain won’t believe it, even when he gives me the sweetest smile.

My lip wobbles, and a tear escapes. “Dammit.”

“Hey, Lil, it’s okay. I promise.” He caresses the side of my face with his big hand, his thumb tracing the fullness of my cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I say, trying to play it off. “I just wish I knew what the fuck was going on.”

“It will be okay,” he replies, but then purses his lips. I can tell he’s uneasy about it, too, which doesn’t make me feel any better.

I look at Danforth who is a few feet away, trying not to invade our privacy. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Nonsense. These things happen.”

I turn back to Jackson. “You should go back out there,” I tell him. “You two should have some time to ski and talk and—“

“I’m not going to leave you like this. Are you kidding?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll—“ Carina appears in view with not just a glass of champagne, but a whole bottle. “Carina can stay with me. Right? The boys should go back out, and we’ll stay in here.”

Carina smiles, sharp canines glinting unfathomably white. “Yes! We’ll be fine here.”

Danforth smiles. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but that depends on how Jackson feels.”

Jackson is ready to shake his head and deny my appeal, but I reach out and grab his hand. “Please, go. I want you to go. Otherwise, it’ll make me feel worse for all of this.”

His brow hardens.

“Please, Jackson,” I say with a smile, taking his hand. “I’ll feel so much worse if you don’t go.”

Jackson opens his mouth to speak, but Danforth interrupts him, clapping his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You heard her. Let’s hit the slopes and let the ladies rest.”

Danforth’s way of speaking, of being is very . . . old school is a polite way of putting it. But in times like this, I’m grateful for his diversion.

“Yes, you two boys go, and we’ll drink champagne and talk about you behind your backs,” Carina says, shooing her hand toward Jackson to get him to get up from the chaise. “I need some company, anyway.”

Carina is married to a resort mogul and a ski fiend and does not ski. I guess she’s hot enough not to indulge her husband’s hobbies. I have my judgments, I’ll admit. They’re exactly as I pictured them. The age gap, the expensive taste in everything from fashion to cosmetic procedures, and the clear give and take, to put it lightly.

But they’re both kind people. And in this moment, they’ve proved handy in getting Jackson to listen to me.

I squeeze Jackson’s hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m already feeling better.” True. His face isn’t blurry anymore. So, it’s not a lie.

He sighs and looks to Carina. “If it happens again, you call me.”

Carina has already perched on a small puffy stool beside the chaise, filling two champagne glasses with champagne I’m sure I’d nearly faint at the price of. “Mmhm, we’ll be fine. Have fun you two.”

Jackson gives me a kiss on the forehead before getting up and shuffling out of the lounge in all his layers with Danforth. He gives me a parting look over his shoulder before disappearing out of sight.

“God, he’s obsessed with you, isn’t he?” Carina says before handing me a glass of champagne.

The last thing I want is a headache from sweet champagne. I’ve gotten to that age where drinking is a roll of the dice. I’ll get some water once I . . . get the energy to get back up. “I like to think so.”

“No, he is obsessed with you,” Carina says, flicking back her perfectly waved hair with an overly ornate acrylic nail. “How did you snag him ? The young ones are impossible to settle down.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The young ones.”

Carina giggles. “I take it you don’t run into many of our kind in Michigan.”

I still don’t follow.

She rolls her eyes, though a smile plays upon her cherry red lips. She rubs her forefinger and thumb together. Money .

“Oh. No. I mean, Jackson and I have known each other our whole lives, but—”

“Ugh, no wonder. Billionaires of his age and . . . physiology hardly ever settle down until later,” Carina says before swigging down some of her champagne. She leans in close to me and smiles. “You have to get a ring on your finger ASAP.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that . . . ”

Carina giggles. “You’ve known each other your whole lives. Don’t tell me you think you’d be moving too fast. Besides, when it comes to money, it talks, and it tells us girls, ‘Hurry the hell up!’ I mean, I got Dee to pop the q in four months.”

Dee to pop the q? I have to keep from laughing. “Well, we’re just about to hit month four, so . . . ”

“Perfect timing. We can brainstorm how to lock him down.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her my mind isn’t even close to marriage right now. I’ve got the shop to worry about and surviving this trip too. Marrying Jackson, while absolutely on my to-do list, is not the top priority.

“I mean, you’re both young. Baby shouldn’t be hard,” Carina goes on.

I jerk upright. “Huh?!”

“You know . . . accidental pregnancy never hurt anyone,” Carina says, then hides her smirk behind her champagne glass.

It’s not her suggestion of baby trapping that puts me on edge though.

“I mean, I’m trying to get the ball rolling with Dee, but it’s going to take a bit more work than cycle tracking since his swimmers are getting a little slow, you know?” she says, with a lowered voice, narrowed eyes, and a scrunched nose like we’re somehow old girlfriends that would ever be talking about our partners’ fertility.

Again, though. This is all beside the point. “You said people don’t get altitude sickness here, right?”

Carina rolls her eyes. “We’re only at four thousand feet. That’s like the La Croix of altitude.”

I gnash on my lower lip and pull my phone out of the pocket of my ski bib. Would I feel dizzy if I was . . .

Oh, my God, I’m feeling dizzy again.

“I mean, it can happen!” Carina says, clocking my unease. “But you don’t strike me as someone with a poor constitution. “Besides dizziness could be any number of . . . ”

The dramatic timing of her speaking and me googling, “Causes of dizziness” and seeing the words “symptoms of pregnancy” is like something out of a movie. I hate it.

Carina stops mid-champagne sip. Her big brown eyes somehow get even bigger. “Oh, my God,” she says, although it comes out more like “gloh my glohd” because of the champagne in her mouth. Then, she swipes my glass of champagne out of my hand. “You can’t drink this.” She shoots up from her stool. “I’m getting you a glass of water. And a . . . well, you know what.”

I’m thankful to be alone for a moment, even if the idea of Carina knowing the potential cause of my dizziness is close to the worst-case scenario. Jackson and I haven’t been careful, but we haven’t . . . not been careful. Fuck, could I really be? Am I late? I’ve been so caught up in everything, I don’t think I’ve been keeping track of my period.

I can’t tell yet if this is a disaster or a blessing. But I need to figure out how I feel. Fast.