Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (26 page)

“You’re not going to throw up if you sing. Once you start singing, all your nerves disappear. I don’t know why you make such a big deal out of it,” he put his menu down so he could look me in the eyes.

I fidgeted under his gaze. “I don’t like people staring at me.”

“It’s not like they’re
staring
at you,” he argued. “They’re…listening to the music.”

“They’re staring.” I took another sip of water to have something to do with my hands.

He shook his head back and forth, chuckling under his breath. “Only ‘cause you’re hot.”

I unrolled the cloth napkin, fanning it across my lap. “I told you I’d think about it. Can you drop the subject?”

He chuckled, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his water glass. “I know your ‘thinking about it’ entails you coming up with ways to get out of it. Just. Do. It.” He leaned across the table, gazing at me from beneath long lashes.

“Are you a Nike sponsor now?” I retorted.

He laughed at that, leaning back in his chair. His tongue flicked out, moistening his pink lips. Gosh, why did he have to be so freakin’ kissable, even when he was irritating the crap out of me?

“That was a good one,” he drummed his knuckles on the tables.

“I can be witty,” I responded.

“I must be rubbing off on you,” he winked.

The waitress chose that moment to stride up to the table. “Have you decided what you’d like?” She smiled pleasantly, looking between the two of us.

“I’ll have the seafood Alfredo,” I handed her the menu.

“Same,” Trace handed her his menu as well.

“I’ll put that in. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll bring you some breadsticks while you’re waiting,” she smiled and headed over to another table.

“Do you like your new phone?” He asked me.

“I love it, but—” I bit my lip, not wanting to continue.

“But what?” He prompted with a wave of his hand. “Spit it out.”

“It was expensive,” I squeaked, knowing I was in for a lecture.

“Olivia,” he growled my name, rubbing his hands on his jeans, “why does it bother you so much when I buy you things?”

I swallowed thickly, looking away from him. “Because I can’t do the same for you.”

“Do you think that matters to me? I
want
to buy you things. It brings me joy to see you happy,” his green eyes seared into me.

“It’s just that,” I took a deep breath, bracing myself, “Aaron used to buy my mom stuff and then hold it over her head. I know you’re not like that, Trace. I do. But that’s what I grew up with and—”

“I love you, Olivia. You’re my wife, for God’s sake,” he smacked his hand against the table, causing me to jump. “When I get you something, there are no strings attached.”

“I know—”

“Obviously you don’t know,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he said, “You need to let go of that silly notion. Aaron was a
bastard
and he shouldn’t have been allowed to
breathe
,” he seethed. Not caring that other people were around, he added, “If that fucker hadn’t hung himself I would’ve killed him. No one like him deserves to live.” His hands were fisted on the table and his breathing was ragged. “I
hate
that he treated you and your mom the way he did. I
hate
that I couldn’t do anything sooner. And most of all, I
hate
that because of him, there’s a part of you that’s always going to be broken.”

My bottom lip trembled as I fought tears.

“Please, don’t cry, Olivia,” he begged.

A single tear slid down my cheek and I hastily swiped it away but more replaced it.

“Ah, fuck. I’m such an ass,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed his chair back. He squatted in front of me, taking my face between his large hands and forcing me to look at him. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“But you’re right,” I sobbed. People were staring and I did my best to ignore their gazes.

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you
did
,” my voice cracked. “And you were right,” I repeated.

“You’re not broken, Olivia. I was wrong to say that. I—”

“But I am,” I placed a hand over his, taking a deep breath. “You
should
be able to buy me things without it making me feel guilty or sending me into a panic. I need to let go of what he did, but I haven’t gotten to that point yet. What if I never get there, Trace?”

“Then I’ll continue to love you just the way you are,” he swiped his thumb over my lips.

“I don’t deserve you.” It was the truth. I didn’t deserve Trace. No one did. He was far too good, even though he didn’t see himself that way.

His eyes closed. “Olivia, it’s
me
that doesn’t deserve
you
.”

“How about we agree to disagree?” I forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Sounds good to me,” he laid his head in my lap.

“Um, Trace,” I cleared my throat.

“Yeah?”

“People are staring at us,” I mumbled, glancing around in discomfort. Couldn’t people mind their own business?

“Let them. What they think of us doesn’t matter, Olivia. This is only a blip in time, something they’ll all forget about in a few hours. You need to stop worrying so much about what people think of you,” he raised his head, looking into my eyes as he let his words soak in.

“You’re right,” I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m always right,” his lips twitched as he fought a smile.

“Now, can you please get up off the floor,” I begged.

“I can do that,” he chuckled, rising slowly. Before returning to his seat, he kissed my forehead. He glanced around at the people in the restaurant who were still watching us with curious eyes. “Go on,” he waved his hand in dismissal, “continue on with your regular scheduled activities. Nothing more to see here.”

I snickered, pretending to cough into my hand to hide it.

The waitress breezed by our table, setting down a tray of food. “Seafood Alfredo,” she announced. “The plates are hot so be careful,” she warned, setting them on the table. “And here’s your breadsticks,” she sat them in the middle. “I—um—brought them by earlier but I thought I’d be interrupting something.”

“It’s okay,” Trace assured her.

With a small smile she picked up the tray and left quickly.

“I think we’ve frightened our waitress,” I informed him, swirling my pasta around.

“Don’t worry,” he ripped a breadstick in half and took a huge bite of one end, “I’ll give her a big tip.”

“I think she deserves one,” I laughed. “Mmm,” I hummed. “This is really good,” I pointed at my bowl of pasta. “You know,” I started, mulling over what he’d said about this being a blip in time, something everyone would forget in a matter of hours, “I think I’m going to sing…by myself,” I clarified unnecessarily.

A huge smile spread slowly across his face. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “Just one though,” I held up a finger. “I might sing more than that, but don’t push your luck.”

“God, I want to kiss you so bad right now,” he gritted his teeth, “but I think these people have had enough of a show for one night.”

I nodded in agreement.

Since we were so hungry, it didn’t take us long to finish our meal and get out of there.

My knee bobbed up and down nervously on the drive to the coffee shop. Trace didn’t say anything, probably scared to push his luck. But I wasn’t going to back out now. This road trip was about recapturing our spark, and I couldn’t do that if I didn’t branch out.

I hadn’t realized we’d made it to the coffee shop, but suddenly Trace was saying, “Ready?”

I swallowed thickly as my heart picked up speed in my chest. I could do this. This wasn’t a big deal. All I had to do was sing.

I took a shaky breath and nodded as I opened the car door. I forced my stiff body out of the car.

“You’ll do great,” Trace assured me, kissing my cheek. “You have absolutely
nothing
to be worried about, okay?”

I nodded again since my voice had temporarily fled me.

“I have to grab my guitar,” he said, jogging around to the trunk. I stood rooted in my spot. I stared at my feet, willing them to move, but they were frozen. “Move,” I whispered as I glared at them.

“Olivia?” Trace questioned with a raised brow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I took his extended hand and let him drag me inside.

The coffee shop was large but not quite packed with people…at least yet.

Trace found a table near the stage and plunked down. I took the seat beside him and wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt.

“Breathe, Olivia,” he whispered in my ear.

Oh, right, I was holding my breath. It probably wouldn’t be good if I passed out
before
I got on stage. I exhaled loudly, giving him a shy smile.

“You’ll do great,” he assured me with a hand on my cheek.

I was glad one of us thought so.

“I don’t even know what to sing,” I chewed on the edge of my fingernail, looking around at the coffee shop. It was decorated like most, with warm colors and pictures of steaming hot cups of coffee.

Trace grabbed my hand, pulling it away from my mouth. “Don’t do that,” he scolded. “Why don’t you sing Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding?”

I looked at him in disbelief. “How do you know that song?”

“First off, I don’t live under a rock. I know who she is. Secondly, I came into the apartment one day while I was working and you were in the shower singing it,” he waved two fingers in front of my face to further drive home his point.

“Okay,” I played with a piece of my hair, “I’ll sing that.”

“Good,” he grinned and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are
you
going to sing?”

“You’ll see,” he tipped the chair back on two legs and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He countered. He smacked his hand on top of the table and stood. “I better go sign us up before all the slots fill up.” He had walked a few feet when he turned back to me. Pointing to his empty chair, he warned, “Try not to let anyone steal my seat this time. I’d like to refrain from punching someone and enjoy my evening.”

“If anyone comes along I’ll keep them away with your light saber,” I joked, pointing to the keychain on his key ring that laid on top of the table.

“Excellent,” he chortled, disappearing into the crowd. We’d only been there a few minutes and at least twenty more people had arrived.

I kept my eye out for any potential creepers. I wanted to avoid having another situation like the one that occurred in Philadelphia.

Trace returned a few minutes later with two bottles of water. “I thought you might be thirsty,” he handed me one.

“Thanks,” I took it and twisted the top off. I didn’t dare ask him how long it would be until I took the stage. It would only serve to make me more nervous. I was definitely better off not knowing.

There was a clock hanging on the wall beside us and my gaze flicked its way every few seconds. I needed to stop.

“Hey,” Trace leaned towards me, “there’s nothing to freak out about.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I frowned. “You don’t get nervous.”

“I don’t care what people think of me,” he reasoned. “Good or bad. Their opinion doesn’t matter to me. I
do
care what you think of me, and my family of course. But these people,” he gestured to the crowd, “they’re not important, Olivia.”

I absorbed his words, letting them soak in as I repeated them silently. “Why do you always have to be right?”

“I’m not always right. But I’m glad you think so. That makes my life easier,” he chuckled, fighting a smile. He took a sip of water and pointed to the stage. “My turn.”

He grabbed his guitar from the case and hoped up on stage.

Gripping the microphone in his hand, he smiled out at the crowd. “How are y’all doin’ tonight?”

The crowd, mostly high school and college kids, hollered in response.

“I’m going to sing a couple of songs for you before my lovely wife takes the stage,” he pointed at me.

I blushed profusely as all eyes turned towards me.

“Hi,” I squeaked, waving.

“This first song is one you’ve all probably heard. It’s a big hit right now, but I’m going to slow it down,” he lowered the microphone and sat down on a plain wooden stool. “This is Wake Me Up by Avicii.”

He strummed the guitar, a smile on his face, and began to sing. “’Feeling my way through the darkness. Guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end. But I know where to start,’” he pointed at me. “’They tell me I’m too young to understand. They say I’m caught up in a dream. Well life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes. Well that’s fine by me.’”

The crowd was getting into it, swaying to the beat. Trace had some kind of magnetism that seemed to capture everyone.

“’So wake me up when it’s all over. When I’m wiser and I’m older. All this time I was finding myself and I didn’t know I was lost,’” his eyes closed as he felt the music and the lyrics. “’So wake me up when it’s all over. When I’m wiser and I’m older. All this time I was finding myself and I didn’t know I was lost,’” he sang the chorus again. “’I tried carrying the weight of the world but I only have two hands. Hope I get the chance to travel the world. But I don’t have any plans. Wish that I could stay forever this young. Not afraid to close my eyes. Life’s a game made for everyone and love is the prize.’”

I sat riveted for the rest of the song, my mouth agape. He was so good and I wondered why he’d never pursued a career in music.

When the song ended, I clapped along with everyone else, jumping enthusiastically to my feet.

“I’m going to do a faster song with this next one,” he adjusted the guitar in his lap. “Feel free to dance and sing along. Look at the person next to you and make friends. Tonight is about making memories that will last a lifetime. This is Here Ya Say by Tony Lucca.”

I propped my chin on my hand as I watched him in fascination. He was so amazing up there, closing his eyes with a smile on his face, and just…letting go. When he sang, he was free. I wanted to feel that freedom too, but I wasn’t sure I could let myself.