Page 34 of Wildest Dreams

“Great,” Pacey rolls his eyes in a playful manner and I let out a flutter of a laugh.

“Welcome to Rivera Ranch Dix, you're gonna love it,” Pacey's smile is wide and my heart beats a little faster in my chest.

“I'm sure I will,” I admit, my eyes finding Tripp's. He isn't smiling. His jaw is tight, nostrils flared slightly... he is pissed off. “When do I start?” I beam.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Pacey asks and his eyes bounce between mine and his mom's.

“Tomorrow is fine with me, Dixie will just need to let me know hers and Lainey's routine...” she pauses for a moment, and I know she is referring to my breast feeding.

“I'll have to run out and grab a couple of bits...” I trail off, anxiety clawing at my throat at the thought of spending more money I don't have.

“Well once Lainey is up, we can drive into town. Get you some clothes and whatever else you both need.”

I place my hand over Orla's that is still resting on my shoulder, and she gives me a squeeze of reassurance.

With that, Tripp sulks out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

“What's eating him?” Pacey looks over his shoulder before his eyes settle on mine.

“I have no idea,” I whisper, but the truth was, I did know.

He is upset with me.

Here I am playing house withhisfamily when he knows my connection to Clay. Their friend is up for the murder of my daughter’s dad. Their dad is willing to take the wrap. Tripp doesn't know my history. No one does when it comes to Clay.

He just helped me when I had nowhere else to turn.

I will tell Tripp the truth, but I'm not ready yet.

I don't want to see Austin or Jorge sentenced for something they didn't do... but who says they didn't do it?

Someone killed Clay, and all arrows point to Austin.

Jorge is a wonderful man and a very proud one, I wish I could understand why he would want to protect someone who isn't even blood. But I suppose I never will. I wasn't even protected by my own blood, by the man who should have kept me safe. But he never did, so yeah, I never will understand.

The hour slips by and we're on our way out. Lainey is fed and happy, gurgling away in her car seat and grabbing the soft toys that dangle in front of her. Orla drives us to the nearest department store, and we pop Lainey in the cart. Her chubby legs kicking happily as she squeals.

“Oh, look at her, she loves riding in the cart,” Orla says, pushing it along and I am happy to walk beside her, Lainey's beautiful blue eyes flitting between me and Orla.

“She does,” I smile at my beautiful daughter, she's so innocent and blissfully unaware of the cruel world we live in. Walking into the department store, I head straight for the breast pumps. I reach for a manual one but Orla takes it from me and places it back on the shelf.

“Electric pump is better,” she says softly and my gut twists. It's double the price and I can already feel the beads of cold sweat pricking at the base of my neck.

“I don't mind a manual,” I offer, a small smile creeping onto my lips.

“Only the best for you, Dixie,” and her eyes glisten with kindness and my chest aches.

I pray that my credit card still has enough on it to cover the pump as I place it into the cart.

“Now, shall we look at some more snacks for you, how about some new toys?” Orla sings to Lainey as she pushes her down the aisles, and I can hear her giggling.

She really didn't need any new toys. Orla and Jorge have been more than generous with everything they have already paid out for.

I pause for a moment to watch the glee on Orla's face as she shows my daughter the flashing toy she picked up, Lainey completely mesmerised.

Creeping up behind her, I place my hand on hers and tilt my head.

“Lainey already has so many wonderful things that you and Jorge have treated her to...” I trail off for a moment and ignore the burn in my throat. “But I can only afford the breast pump.” I lower my voice and shame blankets me. I have no idea why. I shouldn't be ashamed. I work hard, it's not my fault that my manager takes everything from me and leaves me just enough to put food on the table.

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