I glanced toward his direction, “Caroline,” I muttered, wondering why he called her mommy. I carried him into my arms instantly since Mr. Larry instructed us not to let Caroline set her eyes on little Larry. He struggled to get down, so I made my grip strong.
“What’s wrong with you, and why did you call her mommy?” I asked, confused.
“Let me down, Tiffany, I am confident she is my mommy.”
“What gave you the assurance she is your mom?” I dropped him, wiggling my eyebrows. He told me she was the woman in the photo, whom Larry had always been longing for.
I felt a pang of jealousy, knowing Caroline was the mother of his child. It is tough to forget the woman of your child.
We went back to the room, and I got our suitcases ready. I told Amila to take Larry to the car. Some guys came in to assist us with the bags. Larry entered, “Are you guys ready?”
“Yes,” I responded, beaming.
“Where is my little man and Amila?” he questioned.