Page 50 of Wake Me Up
All I know is … the more that everyone assures me it’s okay, the more I realize that I’m falling for my husband.
I’m falling for Tripp.
The question now is … when and how am I supposed to tell him?
I’m so fucking nervous right now.
Me. Tripp Talmage. To some, that wouldn’t prove anything, but those who know me—or fans who have followed my career—they’d know I don’t get nervous. It’s not in my bones. Yet here I am, sitting across the table from the most breathtaking woman, and I can hardly form a sentence.
When Freya texted me this morning, saying that her in-laws wanted to take the kids to stay at a hotel with a pool for the weekend before Aviana’s surgery, I never expected her to ask me if I was free to hang out. But she did, and so here we are, sitting at my table, eating the chicken Parmesan I made for us.
“You know, this is really good,” she says, wiping her mouth and setting the fork down. “And I hope this doesn’t sound bitchy, but I didn’t expect you to be a cook.”
“No offense taken,” I say with a deep chuckle. “I don’t have a never-ending list of shit I can cook. It’s more like … ten things, tops. But I’ll tell you, I’ve pretty much mastered those ten things.”
I don’t tell her that I’ve had to master them because I’m almost always alone. I don’t want her to feel bad for me or look at me like I’m pathetic.
“I’d say you have.” She smiles. “Thanks for having me over.”
Something has been bugging me, but I’m scared to ask her because I’m not sure I’ll like the answer. Inhaling and exhaling quickly, I go for it.
“Do, uh … your in-laws know you were going to come over here?”
I feel like a dick the second the words leave my lips, and I wish I could take it back. She doesn’t owe me any explanation—ever. So, why did I feel the need to ask?
There’s concern on her face, but it’s mixed with joy.
“Believe it or not, Helen is the main reason why I am here,” she says, the corner of her lips turning up. “She and I had a good conversation, andeven though I think I’ll always feel guilty because I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to replace Jamie, hearing her words helped me. A lot.” She pauses, a bit of emotion filling her face. “Also … all three kids know I’m here tonight.”
“They do?” I can barely even whisper it because I’m surprised.
“Yep,” she says sweetly. “Cane was the first to talk to me the other day.” She laughs. “He heard us on the phone when I called you about the tickets. And the other two? I talked with them this morning.”
“And how’d that go?” I hang on to every word coming from her lips, suddenly unable to eat.
“Let’s just say, all three were pretty persistent that I spend some time with you and they go with their grandparents.” She stops, biting down on her bottom lip. “Please … don’t make me regret telling my kids, Tripp.”
When her last words come out in a weak whisper, I push my chair back and stand. Taking the few short steps next to her, I kneel down and cup her hand in mine.
“I won’t, darlin’. You have my word.” I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to it. “Thank you for being here.”
She smiles down at me, her eyes glossing over a bit before she bends forward and throws her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. I’m not afraid I’ll hurt her. I would never. I’m scared that I’ll get more attached to her and her kids and she’ll push me away.
But even as cliché as it sounds … this is a risk that’s worth taking.
Sheis a risk worth taking.
I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric that’s stretched against my chest before pulling my hair up into a ponytail and then looping it around into a bun.
When Tripp told me to bring my swimsuit, I almost died when I thought about how I didn’t own anything that was even a little sexy. I mostly have all one-pieces to cover up my stretch marks, but when I was goingthrough my suits, I found one that I’d never worn. A tankini that shows off only the bottom of my stomach with a high-waisted bottom. It’s far from sexy, but it’s the closest thing to it that I’m going to feel comfortable in.
Grabbing the towel from my bag, I drape it around my body and walk out of the bathroom. This seems crazy—to be headed out to get in the hot tub with Tripp. But he is my husband, and I suppose there are worse things we could be doing. So, I’m going with it.
When I round the corner, he’s standing in the kitchen with his palms on the countertop. His eyes take me in, and he smirks.
“You seriously brought a towel from home?” He narrows his eyes. “Is that … a Disney towel?”
I look down sheepishly but then shrug. “I’m a mom. I always bring things that I probably don’t need.” I slap a hand against my forehead, cringing. “I was afraid I’d be changing in the bathroom and I wouldn’t find a towel. I didn’t want to have to walk out without one. Figured this was the safest bet.”
