Page 50 of Wildest Dreams

“How are you sweetheart, how was your day?” Orla asks as she loiters in the doorway.

“Good,” I smile, I’m not lying completely but... “How was Lai?—”

“Here we go,” Tripp barrels through the door interrupting us, Orla snaps her head around to look at her son who is holding part of my breast pump.

“Thanks,” my cheeks redden, and I watch as Orla's lips twist into a smile.

“Not a problem,” he rushes out before disappearing.

“Oh, Tripp!” I call out, and he is back in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah?” His brows raise.

“Any news on my car?” and I watch as his shoulders sag.

“I spoke to Rusty earlier, needs a few more days.”

I give a little nod and with that, he turns and walks away.

Lainey snuggles into me and my God I have missed her.

“How did you get on?” I ask the question that I wanted to before Tripp walked in.

“We got on perfectly. I can't wait for tomorrow,” she beams, and Lainey begins fussing, hands grabbing at my top.

“I'm going to feed her I think, give her a bottle before bed,” I say my thoughts aloud. Not sure why.

“She has a diaper on, I put her fresh sleepsuits away,” she smiles before turning on her heel and walking out the room. “Oh, and supper will be dished up shortly,” and with that she disappears downstairs.

Holding a now fussing Lainey, I use one hand to unbutton my shirt just enough to be able to slip my nursing bra down and she latches on; the relief I feel in an instant makes my head fall back.

Heavy footsteps pull my attention and Tripp is back in the door, head down as if he isn't allowed to look at me.

“You don't have to duck your head,” I say and try not to laugh.

“I didn't want to stare,” his voice is quiet.

I scoff.

Lowering my eyes to my daughter, I brush my free hand over her soft hair and my heart thumps in my chest with so much love.

“I spoke to my mom...”

Snapping my head around to look at him, my eyes narrow on him.

“Tripp,” his name comes out more as a whine.

“She said she'll watch Lainey,” his head is dipped once more. He knows he fucked up.

“It’s not your place to ask. She ismychild Tripp. What if I didn't want to leave her? What if your mom felt obliged becauseyouasked her?”

I let my questions linger in the air for a moment more.

“It wasn't your place to ask. I said I would... now it makes me look cowardly and that I have sent you down to do it for me.”

Anger rattles inside of me.

“Not at all, it wasn't like that,” he tries to defend himself, his voice a little louder.

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