Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (24 page)

“Yeah, go ahead,” I replied, buckling my seatbelt.

“Hey mom,” he answered. “Yeah, we’re good. Really? No, I haven’t talked to him. I’ll call him later and check up on Ace. Nothing much, just got married—” He held the phone away from his ear and I flinched at his mother’s shrieks. I couldn’t tell if they were good or bad. He clicked the button to put it on speaker and said, “Mom? Are you okay? Should I alert the paramedics of a possible heart attack?”

“Married?” She asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Trace replied, looking at me guiltily.

“When?” She gasped for breath. He must have really shocked her.

“Yesterday afternoon. It was a lovely ceremony in a New Hampshire courthouse. You should’ve been there, mom,” he joked.

“Trace Alexander Wentworth, now is not the time for your smart mouth remarks. I can’t believe you got married without your family there. Your grandpa is going to be so mad when I tell him.”

“How is Gramps?” Trace questioned, swallowing thickly. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“No reason,” Trace stared out the window.

“I’m really sorry, Lily,” I spoke up.

“There’s no need for you to apologize, Olivia. I know this wasn’t your idea.”

“Hey,” I said, looking at Trace questioningly, “we didn’t exchange rings, so maybe when we get back home we can have a ceremony at the mansion for everyone. We can even make Trace where a tux. Think you can plan something nice on short notice?” I asked her. Trace
had
said I could have a traditional wedding ceremony. Hopefully he hadn’t promised that just to sweet talk me into getting married yesterday.

“I’ve been throwing parties since I was twenty. I can put together a nice wedding ceremony in no time. Are you thinking the end of the month? That would give you plenty of time to get home,” Lily said.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Do I really have to wear a tux?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Lily and I said simultaneously.

“
Great
,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look mom, we’ve gotta go. I love you.”

“Love you too. And Olivia, keep your phone on. I’ll be calling you to ask for details. Okay?”

“Uh—”

Trace snorted. “Olivia drowned her phone. We’re going to get her a new one now. She’ll call you with her new number.”

“Oh, okay! I love you guys! Bye!” She chimed and then the line went dead.

“I can’t believe we just agreed to that,” he mumbled.

I punched his shoulder. “You’re the one that said we could have a real wedding when we got back. This way, we can exchange our rings, and still have the typical ceremony with our friends and family there. I hope your mom doesn’t go all out, though,” I frowned, wiping my hands on my legs in a nervous gesture. “I’d prefer to keep it simple.”

“Don’t worry,” he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on my cheek, “my mom knows our taste.”

I giggled. “There better not be any plaid.”

He scoffed. “Plaid is delightful. You looked beautiful in it yesterday when you said, ‘I do.’”

I shook my head, at a loss for words. Finally, I said, “Do you think Gramps is going to be upset with us?”

When Trace had come up with the brilliant idea of getting married yesterday, I hadn’t thought at all about what Gramps would think or feel. But Gramps was
dying
and he deserved to be there. What we had done was selfish; there was no other word for it.

Trace’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

A muscle in his jaw twitched and I wasn’t sure if he was going to answer me, but after a minute he said, “Yeah. He’ll be pissed. He—uh—” His gaze flicked towards me. “He told me, before we left, that he hoped we might consider getting married before,” he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “before he dies.” He bit his bottom lip and I knew he was fighting tears. I reached out and placed my hand on his thigh, hoping to offer any comfort that I could.

“Well then,” I forced a smile, “I guess it’s a good thing your mom’s going to plan a ceremony for when we get back.”

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, turning into the parking lot of a strip mall. He parked and sat there for a moment, staring out the windshield as if he was searching for something.

After a few minutes he shook his head and got out of the car. I did the same, following him into a Verizon Store. He gave his name to one of the techs working there and then sat on a bench to wait.

“Trace—”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away,” I whispered, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down his back.

“I know that,” he mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “But I’d prefer not to think about it.”

I could understand and respect that. After what Aaron did to me, I’d preferred to push it to the back of my mind. Thinking that if I convinced myself that it hadn’t really happened then somehow that would eventually be true. It was an unhealthy way of thinking, but a coping mechanism that many clung to.

“Trace, we have to face reality. Gramps is dying. Not thinking about it doesn’t stop it from happening. We have to brace ourselves for the inevitable. I know what you’re feeling is ten times worse than what I’m feeling,” I whispered, trying not to cry. “But I love him too, Trace. He welcomed me into your family like I was of his blood. He never treated me differently or looked down at me. Not many people are as…exceptional as Gramps is.”

“Stop making me feel bad,” he mumbled, looking away from me.

I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just trying to get you to understand.”

“I
do
understand. But it’s easier not to feel,” his voice shook. “Maybe that’s weak of me, but it’s what I have to do. I need to be numb.”

I shook my head. He was being a stubborn idiot. But I didn’t want to piss him off so I shut my mouth hoping the opportunity would present itself and I could bring it up later.

A few hours later, we left the store and I was the proud new owner of the latest iPhone. My previous phone had been a cheap touchscreen that didn’t at all compare to this.

“I think I’m in love,” I gasped, playing with the settings.

Trace chuckled, starting the car. “Should I be jealous?”

“Maybe,” I smiled, setting a picture of us as my wallpaper.

“So,” he started, “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” I prompted, when he trailed off.

“You agreed to sing with me at the bar the other night, but since…well…you know,” he growled, “that fucker pushed—”

“He didn’t push me,” I interrupted.

“Well, he might as well have,” Trace snapped. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, softening his tone, “I thought you might sing with me tonight. There’s a coffee shop not too far from here that has live music and patrons can sign up to sing.”

“How do you find these places?” I asked incredulously.

“I saw it this morning when I went to get you Starbucks. Soooo? What do you say?”

I frowned. I didn’t really want to sing. But the jerk was pouting and giving me puppy dog eyes. Besides, I
had
agreed the other night.

“Fine,” I tossed my hands in the air. “I’ll sing.”

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he smiled, pleased with himself.

“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret it,” I crossed my arms over my chest, taking in the small town as we drove through. It was cute and quaint, kind of reminding me of home. “Are we going back to the hotel?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Thought we’d drive around for a bit. Get some lunch. See the sights.”

“What sights?” I replied sarcastically.

“There are unique things in any place,” he poked my cheek to annoy me. “You just have to know where to look.”

“And somehow you know how to find these places? Does Dora teach you how to find them?”

He threw his head back in laughter. “First off, Dora is highly educational and I like to brush up on my Spanish. Secondly, I can sing the backpack song better than anyone. Thirdly,” he held up three fingers, “I happen to be a very awesome explorer.”

“You—ugh,” I groaned, at a loss for words. Trace truly was one of a kind. When we had kids one day, they were going to have the coolest dad ever.

“Have I rendered you speechless?” He scratched his stubbly jaw. “It’s okay. It happens to a lot of people. They don’t know how to handle all of this,” he motioned a hand to his body. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a minute to compose yourself,” he smiled boyishly.

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

A few minutes later he found a parking spot along the street and parked the car. He hopped out, rifling through the pocket of his ratty jeans for some change to put in the meter.

When the meter was full, he took my hand and we started down the street, ambling in and out of the little shops.

“Let’s go in there,” I pointed to a unique looking little store that had quote plaques in the window and handmade paper stars.

When we stepped inside, I looked up in awe. More paper stars, in varying sizes and color, adorned the ceiling. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. My neck began to hurt with the craning I was doing but I couldn’t stop looking. They were mesmerizing.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” A voice said, snapping me back to reality.

I straightened my neck and found myself gazing at a kind older lady. Her gray hair hung to her shoulders and her blue eyes were kind with crinkles at the corners. Laugh lines wrinkled her mouth. She smiled sweetly at me, waiting for me to reply.

“Amazing,” I gasped when I finally found my voice.

“My son and I made every single one of those. He’s gone now though,” she said sadly. “I find origami very relaxing. Have you ever tried?” She asked, clasping her hands together.

“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d have the patience. And I’m sorry about your son,” I added.

She waved her hand in dismissal. “Ah, but maybe it would teach you to have some,” she laughed quietly. “I could teach you, if you’d like. Or I have some instruction books and starter kits,” she pointed to a far corner of the room. “The starter kits have precut strips of paper to make it easier.”

“I’m not sure,” I frowned.

“We’ll take one,” Trace said, appearing at my side, draping an arm over my shoulder. “I think Olivia would be good at origami.”

The woman’s smile widened. “What a pretty name. I always liked that name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Margaret,” she held out her hand. “My husband and I own this store.”

“Well, it’s lovely. You already know I’m Olivia, and this is my husband, Trace.” My heart stopped beating for a moment when I said ‘husband’. It was strange to think that I was actually married, but wonderful at the same time.

“Nice to meet you both,” she shook each of our hands. “Look around, take your time. If you need anything, I’ll be here,” she smiled kindly, moving behind the register where she appeared to be organizing something.

I scanned down the aisles, picking up things here and there. I came to a small plaque, about as long as my hand and not very wide. It was wood and painted blue on all the sides except the front, where a Volkswagen Beetle was painted. But that wasn’t what had caught my eye. It was the quote.

“’Life is but a breath—live it well,’” I whispered, reading it off the plaque.

“What’s that?” Trace asked, appearing over my shoulder. I held it up where he could see and he read the quote aloud as well. “Huh. That makes you think.”

I nodded, thinking of how my own life had almost been snuffed out and Gramps’ was coming to a close.

Nothing guaranteed that we’d get to live to be old and gray. Each of us was only allotted so much time here on earth and it was up to us to decide how to live it. I wanted to make every moment count. I didn’t want to have regrets.

“I’m buying this,” I informed him, holding onto the small plaque.

“No,” he took it from my hand, “
I’m
buying it for you. I’m your husband now,” he kissed the corner of my mouth, “so you better get used to me spoiling you. I know you don’t like it and I let you off the hook while we were dating. But now we’re married. So, it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Fine,” I agreed, “but only because it’s cheap.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. I’d still buy it,” he sauntered off, investigating another part of the store.

I laughed under my breath at him.

I came to the book Margaret had been talking about. I picked it up, flipping through the pages. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to turn pieces of paper into art, but a part of me wanted to try, so I tucked the book under my arm and grabbed one of the kits she’d also told me about. I didn’t think a kit was actually necessary, but if it could help me not suck at origami, then I’d give it a shot. After all, I needed a hobby. With school over, and no permanent teaching position, I needed something to distract my mind.

I met Trace at the register and he paid for the items.

“I’m glad you decided to try the origami,” Margaret commented as she bagged our stuff.

“Me too,” I smiled kindly at her. “Hopefully I won’t suck at it.”