Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (99 page)

All my love, forever,

Gramps.

A few weeks later …

“What do you think?” Trace took a step back with his hands on his hips, assessing the new sign on the garage.

WENTWORTH WHEELS

“It’s … interesting,” I eyed the name now emblazoned on what was once Pete’s Garage.

“You don’t like it,” he frowned, his brows furrowing together.

“No, I do.” Actually, I thought it was ridiculous, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I kept my mouth shut. Two weeks ago, Pete had handed the business over to Trace. It had been shut down since then as Trace prepped to open the garage under its new management. Pete had left him all of the equipment since he didn’t need it, but the place had been in need of a serious makeover. Now, it sparkled with a renewed life.

The last few weeks had been hard, since we were still mourning the loss of Gramps, but Trace was better since he’d been putting so much time and energy into opening the garage as his own. It was a welcome distraction for him.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” I laughed. “I wasn’t expecting that though,” I shrugged, pointing at the sign.

“I thought it was catchy,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Better than Trace’s Garage, at least.”

“Yeah, this is better than that,” I admitted. “I’m really proud of you,” my voice brightened as I smiled at him. I knew it had been hard for Trace to admit that taking over the family business wasn’t for him. He wanted to please his family, but he would’ve been miserable leading his family’s company. Instead, his mom had stepped up to the plate and filled Gramps’ shoes. She had worked for the company after she married Trace’s dad and after he’d died she’d continued to put in hours.

“Thanks,” he slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss.

After looking at the sign for another minute, we made our way into the apartment.

Trace stopped in the kitchen, leaning a hip against the counter. “I noticed you canceled your job interviews.”

“Yeah,” I bit my lip, remembering the words Gramps had written in his letter.
As for you, my sweet Olivia, write that book. Don’t let life get in the way of your dreams. Our dreams can take us anywhere as long as we let them. So, spread those wings and fly baby girl.

After reading Gramps letter, I knew taking a job teaching wasn’t what I really wanted to do. Writing a book would be hard, and I might not ever do it, but I wouldn’t know until I tried. So, for the time being I’d continue to work at Marcy’s store and write in my spare time. Who knew where it would go, but at least I’d be happy, and happiness was the key to everything.

“So … does this mean you’re going to write that book?” He paused waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t say anything, he grabbed an apple and bit into it. He arched a brow as he eyed me from across the counter.

There was no point in not telling him my plan. I knew he would support my decision. Besides, this is what he’d wanted me to do all along. I strode forward and grabbed my laptop. I plopped on the couch and opened the lid of the computer. “Yeah, I am and I’m going to start right now,” my voice shook nervously with fear. Admitting this was a big step for me.

“And what story are you going to write?” His eyes sparkled and his lips threatened to turn up in his signature cocky grin.

“Ours.”

A year later …

I stared out the window of our new home, smiling at the white picket fence and the idyllic setting. The new house was close to the garage, but we wanted to get an actual house so Ace would have room to run around a yard. Plus, with the baby due any day now, he kind of needed his own bedroom. The apartment would not have been a great place to bring a baby home to.

I turned, picking up the picture on the side table. It was of Trace and me, kissing Gramps’ cheeks at the wedding. I couldn’t believe he’d already been gone more than a year. His loss still felt fresh but we were moving on and we were happy. We had everything we could ever ask for and more.

“Done!” Trace called from the nursery.

I waddled inside, my hand on my rounded stomach.

I closed my eyes, stifling a laugh. “Really, Trace?
This
is what you’ve been doing in here all afternoon? Now I know why you told me to stay out,” I shook my head, fighting a smile.

“What?” He frowned. “You don’t like it.”

“‘I am a Jedi like my father before me,’” I read the decal he’d affixed to the wall. Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Starting him young, aren’t you?”

“You’re never too young to have a love of Star Wars,” he defended.

I wrapped my hands around the bar of the crib, smiling at the mobile my grandma had made the baby. It was made of pale blue and white origami stars. I was happy the baby would have something made by family to look at and not something from a store.

Trace lowered to his knees in front of me and I gazed at him quizzically, wondering what he was up to.

He lifted my shirt up and placed his hands on my stomach.

“Buddy, it’s daddy,” his breath tickled my bare skin, “I really want to meet you, so I wish you’d come out already. Plus, mommy’s getting really tired and cranky,” he grinned up at me.

“Hey,” I laughed. “You’d be tired and cranky too if you had to carry this around all day,” I pointed at my large stomach.

“Come on, buddy, it’s time for you to come out,” he coaxed and the baby kicked against Trace’s hand.

“Nice try,” I sighed. “But I gave this kid an eviction notice a week ago and he has yet to vacate the premises. He’s stubborn, like his daddy,” I smiled down at Trace, running my fingers through his hair.

“I’m ready to meet him. I want to know if he looks like you or me. I bet he looks like you,” he smiled wistfully, rubbing my stomach.

I laughed, placing my hand against his to still his movements. “Trace, he’s not a genie in a bottle. You can’t rub him out.”

“I can try,” he grinned boyishly.

About that time, I felt a gush and my eyes widened.

Trace looked up at me and his eyes were full of panic. “Is that what I think it is?”

I nodded.

He rushed out of the room, grabbing the bag with baby clothes and ran down the hall to our bedroom. He came back with the baby bag slung over one shoulder and my overnight bag on the other.

“Baby time,” he smiled, but there was fear in his eyes too. I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t scared. “Do I need to carry you?” He looked at me skeptically.

I rolled my eyes. “I can walk.”

“I can carry you if—”

“Just get me to the hospital,” I said calmly, because I knew one of us had to stay calm in this situation and it definitely wouldn’t be Trace.

He helped me to the garage and into the large SUV he’d insisted on buying the day after I told him we were going to have a baby.

“Did you have to get a SUV that was so high,” I grumbled, as I tried to scramble my way into the car. I was having trouble between my short legs and the boulder that was currently my stomach.

“This was the safest car for the baby,” he defended.

After some help from Trace, I managed to get seated and stretched the seatbelt across my stomach.

I think he broke at least ten traffic laws in his haste to make it to the hospital.

By the time I was admitted into a room and my doctor came to check on me, I had dilated six centimeters. “More than halfway there. Things are moving really fast. You’ll have a baby to hold soon,” the doctor smiled as she left the room.

Trace was pacing nervously back and forth across the room as he called our family. When he hung up, he continued pacing. I was tempted to shuck something at him to get him to stop. He was making me more nervous than I already was.

“Please, for the sake of my sanity,
sit down
,” I begged.

“Sorry,” he took the chair beside me. I reached my hand out to him and he took it. With his long fingers, he spun the hospital band around my wrist. He stopped, focusing on something. “Is that little man’s heartbeat?”

“Yeah, it is,” I smiled at the sweet sound. Nothing was as precious to me as our baby’s heartbeat.

“It’s beautiful.” Tears welled in his eyes and I reached out to cup his cheek.

“You’ve heard it before,” I stated.

“I know,” he bit his lip. “But it gets to me every time … it’s our baby.”

I knew what he meant. When I’d found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t even begin to describe how elated I was. When I saw the baby on a sonogram for the first I cried for ten minutes. Hearing the heartbeat … there was nothing else like it.

“I never could have imagined that a year ago that we’d be here,” he looked around the room. “It seems so surreal that we’re here … that you’re having my baby.”

“Believe it,” I rubbed my stomach, grimacing as a contraction rolled through my body. “I hate you for this,” I hissed, so overcome by the pain that I forgot how happy I’d been a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry,” he sat up to kiss my forehead. “If I could switch places with you, I would.”

I evened out my breathing as the pain faded away.

From that moment on the contractions quickly escalated. Apparently little man had decided it was time for him to make his grand entrance. I begged for drugs but there was no time. Trace brushed my hair away from my face, murmuring sweet words.

Gripping Trace’s hand, I pushed our baby into the world. Tears leaked out of both our eyes as we saw our son for the first time. Even covered in goo he was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

“I love you so much,” Trace murmured and kissed me deeply.

“I love you too,” I sobbed, watching as they cleaned my son. I held my arms out weakly, desperate to hold the small bundle they were wrapping. He was a part of me, of
us
, and I needed him.

The nurse placed him in my arms. “Congratulations you two,” she smiled.

My breath left me as I gazed down into the eyes of my son. Dark hair poked out beneath the knit blue cap they’d stuck on his head, and his eyes, although the blue babies were born with, held a hint of green. His nose was rounded on the end, exactly like Trace’s, and he even had his dad’s pouty lips. I think I’d given birth to Trace’s clone. Little man would be breaking hearts all over the place.

“He’s real,” Trace gasped, reaching out to rub the baby’s head.

“Of course he’s real,” I laughed. “What did you think had been growing inside me the last nine months?”

He chuckled. “It doesn’t seem like this should be possible … that he’s ours.”

“He is one-hundred percent ours. Crying, screaming, and dirty diapers included,” I smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thank you? For what?” My brows furrowed together in puzzlement.

“For giving me this gift,” he ran a finger over the curve of the baby’s cheek. “He’s perfect.”

“I have to agree with you there,” I smiled as the baby yawned. I was sure there had never been a cuter baby. His eyes closed and he opened his mouth in a small yawn. I didn’t want to let go of the baby, but I knew Trace deserved to hold his son. “Here, take him,” I held my arms out so he could take the baby. Family would be arriving soon to meet the baby and I wanted Trace to have time with him first.

The baby looked so small in Trace’s large hands. He stood, rocking the baby in his arms. Slowly, he lifted the baby up and leaned his forehead against our newborn son’s.

“Hey buddy, I’m your daddy,” he whispered to the sleeping baby. “I’m new at all this so you’ll have to bear with me,” he continued. “But I want you to know I love you and I’ll always protect you. No one will ever hurt you.” He kissed the baby’s nose and murmured, “I love you, Dean.”

Tears welled in my eyes once more as I watched Trace with Dean. My son had the best dad in the world, I was sure of that.