Page 101 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

Tripp gestures to the couch, and I go over to sit down, still in my coat. He sits down, too, maybe a foot away and angled toward me.

“I don’t want a baby,” I say again. “I have never really wanted kids. At least not for a long time. I want a career. I have plans to get my master’s degree. I can’t have this baby. I have plans.”

It’s verbal vomit, for sure, but Tripp just listens. When I finally calm down, he says just two words. “I understand.”

“Do you? Because it’s not you that has a baby growing inside of your body.”

“That’s fair,” he says softly, his lovely blue eyes so focused and steady.

It infuriates me. His calm. His rationality. “Have you ever even given a shit about anyone other than yourself?” I’m lashing out at him and it’s totally not fair, and I’m being a crazy bitch right now, but I have to make him understand—

“I have, in fact.” He frowns and settles into the couch, leaning his head back and looking up at the ceiling.

This surprises me. In all of his years in the spotlight, I’ve never heard of him having a relationship with anyone. He’s not known as a ladies’ man, either. I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that he might have had someone at some point.

“When I—I was in Nashville.” His voice catches a little, but he recovers quickly.

“I was with someone. Christy. I was in love with her, and I thought we were heading down a path toward marriage and kids, but when I asked her to marry me, she told me she wasn’t ready.

I asked why and it was similar, I guess, to you.

She was in banking, and she had all these career aspirations.

She had things she wanted to accomplish.

So, we stayed together, but it was hard.

I was traveling all the time during season, and we hardly saw each other.

We spent like two years in this relationship vacuum, kind of going nowhere.

It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great, either.

And then I found out she was seeing someone else, so I confronted her, and she cried and apologized and told me she wanted to be with me, that she was ready now.

But it was a mess, you know? I wasn’t sure I could trust her, and I asked her to stop working and just come on the road with me so we could work on things. But she wouldn’t, so we ended it.”

“And you just never tried again?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I got my heart broken. And it showed me that modern relationships can’t work. Two people can’t be going in different directions. She wanted her independence and her career and she prioritized that over our relationship.”

“I mean, so did you, right?” I push. “You probably had millions in the bank by that point. Why couldn’t you quit your job and stay home if that was how you wanted things?”

He scoffs. “That’s not how these things work.”

“You mean, if two people in a heterosexual relationship decide that one person should work inside the home, it should always be the woman?”

“My mom stayed home with us and it was great,” he says. “That’s my lens.”

“Well, your lens is old-fashioned.”

“What if a woman wants to stay home and take care of her family? Is that old-fashioned too, Lila?”

“You make a good point. But the point I’m making is that there are all kinds of households these days and if a woman decides she wants to work inside the home, that’s her prerogative. It should not be dictated to her against her will or held against her by her partner if she wants more.”

“How is it that every conversation we have devolves into some feminist manifesto?” Tripp snaps back at me. “I’m here to talk to you. To support you. Not to be told that I’m out-of-touch or whatever.”

“I’m sorry, but I just find you confusing.

In so many ways, you’ve represented this dream guy in my head.

Since I was a teenager, you’ve been this gorgeous, successful, kind of mysterious guy.

I used to write your name in my notebook and fantasize about you being my first kiss.

I was this awkward teenager who was obsessed with hockey, crushing on the older, hot hockey player. ”

“And I’m sorry to disappoint.” His eyes look sad and hurt.

I give him the smallest of smiles. “You didn’t. At least, not in the kissing arena. Not in the other things arena.”

“We did have some outstanding sexual chemistry,” he says wistfully, reaching out through the space between us, his fingertips grazing along the edge of my thigh for a brief moment before he pulls his hand back again. “But we are very different people with very different ideals.”

“And now…” I can’t even finish the sentence. I nearly choke, trying not to cry again.

“I’ll help you,” Tripp says quickly. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“My inclination is to not have this baby.” The words coming out of my mouth don’t feel as convincing as their meaning though.

“If that’s your choice, I’ll be there for you every step of the way.

But I also want you to know I think you’d be a great mom.

I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids, and I respect that.

I don’t really want kids either—mainly because I think I’d be a crap father.

But you, Lila? You’d be a great mother because you’re good at everything you do. ”

I meet his gaze and he’s so sincere that I nearly burst into tears for the nine-billionth time in an hour.

He means it, all of it, and it melts my heart.

Tripp has his moments. He can be caring and sweet and tender.

He can also be infuriating and annoying.

I loved every minute that we spent together in that hotel room—apart from the moment he walked out on me.

But even then, I understand what held him back.

“I didn’t do this to trap you.”

“I know.”

“I mean it, Tripp. I seduced you and didn’t even think once about protection. I—fucked up and I’m sorry for all—for everything—it’s my fault.”

“I know you didn’t do this to trap me.” He reaches for my hand and holds it.

“Lila, I didn’t even think about using a condom when we were together.

I was lost to whatever magic was between us in that hotel room.

It takes two to tango, as they say. This is on me, as much as it’s on you.

And we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“I’m only twenty-three,” I say stupidly. “And neither of us wants kids, so…”

“So, we’ll get back to Vegas and make an appointment if that’s what you decide.”

“On the down-low, of course. Our devoutly Catholic families won’t be keen on our decision if they find out.” Annnd, the sound of those terrible words coming out of my mouth makes me feel even worse—if such a thing were possible.

“Agreed,” he says, scooting closer, putting his arm around my shoulders.

I lay my head on his strong, warm chest and just let go, allowing the tears to fall while Tripp holds me, letting myself cry it out, our decision somewhat made.

Even still, it feels like this story could yet be undone.