Page 33 of Wake Me Up
“Get in if you want,” he drawls. “I got one of those weird chai things waiting for ya.”
There he goes again. Doing things that are too nice. Things that make my heart skip a beat and my chest warm.
I nervously run my fingers over my wedding ring, but eventually, I look into Tripp’s eyes. The words my mom said the other night come into my mind, and I think of how nice this man has been to my kids. He might not be my Prince Charming, but he’s been very good to my children. And if he can do this one favor for me, I’ll be forever grateful.
“Okay,” I say softly and roll my window back up.
Opening my car door, I slam it shut with my hip and walk slowly to the passenger side of his truck. After pulling the door open, I climb up inside, and once the door is closed and we’re in there alone, I inhale … attempting to calm my heart.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say through the nerves ripping through my entire body. “I … really appreciate it.”
“Of course.” His accent is smooth and deep.
His truck smells so good, and I know it’s coming from him. He smells nothing like Jamie did, which I’m actually thankful for. I don’t need any more reminders that I’m doing something wrong here, and being here with a man who smelled like my dead husband would certainly make me feel even worse.
I can’t believe I’m about to say what I am. Maybe it’s the fatigue or the fear that my daughter won’t get the treatment she needs. Whatever it is … I never thought I’d be in the position I’m about to be in.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.” I cringe. I’ve always been so levelheaded, but right now, I feel like an absolute nutjob. “As bad of an idea as it probably is, I do want to at least explore it as an option.”
He rests his hand on his chin, eyeing me over like he doesn’t trust what’s coming out of my mouth. His eyes narrow the slightest bit, and he tilts his head to the side.
“Marrying me, you mean?” he finally says. “That’s what we’re talking about here? Just to be sure we’re on the same page.”
Fire. My cheeks are on fire. I swallow back my humiliation, not believing I’m actually asking him to do such a thing. Not only because it goes against everything I believe in, but I’d also be putting Tripp—who has been nothing but kind to me and my kids—at risk of getting in serious trouble.
“Yeah, but I want to know … why? Why are you so eager to do this?”
Something I said struck a nerve, and he tenses like my words hurt him. It takes him a moment to collect himself, but he does.
“For a lot of my life, my mom raised me and my sister by herself. It was hard on her.”
There’s so much I want to ask him, but as if he senses I’m going to, he talks before I get the chance. “Anyway, what do you say? Want to get hitched?”
I choose not to push for more information about his upbringing or ask why his dad wasn’t in the picture. Instead, I toss out an important question. “I would need to make sure your health insurance would even kick in for the surgeryfirst—”
“It will if we get married tomorrow,” he cuts me off. “It takes two weeks to go into effect.” He pauses. “Her surgery is sixteen days from today, right?”
“Tomorrow?” I gasp. “We’d have to get married … tomorrow? As in …”
“Tomorrow,” he deadpans. “And, yeah, we would if we want to leave ourselves one day of wiggle room to make sure the insurance is all set for her surgery.”
He doesn’t even seem worked up right now, which only throws me off more. Why wouldn’t he be concerned about this? I mean … this is a big,hugefreaking deal.
“That’s … really soon.” I feel like I need a paper bag to breathe in and out of right now. This is insanity.
“I’m free all day tomorrow.” He shrugs, completely unaffected. “We can go to the courthouse and call it a job.”
My head spins even though it shouldn’t. I came here to discuss the option, but I thought I’d have … gee, I don’t know … a week to at least mull over the idea that I might be committing insurance fraud. Suddenly, an image of me in an orange jumpsuit, gripping the bars in a jail cell, flashes in my head.
I have never looked good in orange.
“Freya?” Tripp’s deep voice pulls me out of the horrible thought. “What’s going on in there?” He points to my head, and his eyes soften.
I think back to him hugging me the other day, and my heart rate quickens.
“My kids,” I squeak. “I can’t just … marry you. My kids will be so confused.” I can’t even believe myself as I say the words out loud. What was I even thinking, entertaining this? “They’ve already lost their father. I don’t want to do anything to screw them up.” My lip trembles. “That’s, like … my number one goal.”
He turns his body more toward me. Reaching for my arm, he rests his hand on it. It’s meant to be comforting, not romantic, and yet every skin cell of mine feels his touch.
