Tempting Rowan (Trace + Olivia #3) (30 page)

I finished making their beds and turned on the TV that had been left in the apartment from when Trace lived here. There was also a couch, and a bed was in the bedroom. Everything else had been cleared away.

As soon as I sat down, Ivy cuddled against one side, and Tristan burrowed against my other. I guessed playing on his new bunk bed wasn’t a priority anymore.

I ran my fingers through his light hair and kissed the top of his head. I loved him so much—and that love had led me to make the worst decision of my life. I’d thought I was doing the right thing though.

“Tristan,” I swallowed thickly as his blue eyes—Trent’s eyes—
raised to meet mine. “There’s something I need to tell
you
,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I spoke. God, this was hard.

Ivy sat up too, watching me curiously. She knew from my tone that I had something important to say.

I didn’t know quite how to approach this. Shit. I should’ve googled this or read a book about it. I was sorely unprepared to have this profound conversation with my son.

Finally, I reached out, lovingly stroking his cheek. “A long time ago, I had a baby,” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, “a baby boy.”

“You had a baby?” Ivy gasped.

“Baby? Where?” Tristan looked over his shoulder like one was magically going to appear.

“Here,” I tapped his chest.

“The baby’s inside me?” His light brows wrinkled together, looking like a fuzzy caterpillar.

“No, silly,” I couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re the baby.”

“I’m the baby? I’m not a baby, Row.” He shook his head in disgust that I would suggest such a thing.

“Not now, but once you were a baby. My baby. I carried you in my tummy,” I touched my stomach.

Tristan reached out, his little fingers touching my now flat stomach through the soft cotton of my shirt. “I was in there?” He tilted his head.

“Mhmm,” I nodded. “I was a kid myself,” I brushed his hair out of his eyes, “and didn’t think I could take care of you. So, my mommy became your mommy. She adopted you.”

“Huh?” He questioned.

I shook my head. At his age, there was no need to go into detail. He wouldn’t understand.

“What I’m trying to say, Tristan, is that
I’m
your mommy.” I couldn’t hold back my sob. When had I turned into such a blubbering mess? I didn’t like this new development.

Tristan grinned, showcasing his slightly crooked little white teeth. “I always knew you were my real mommy.” He surprised me by flying at me with open arms. I wrapped mine around him, holding
on tight. I never wanted to let him go. I wanted to cling to him forever.

“Does this mean you’re my mommy too?” Ivy’s soft voice spoke up.

I looked over at her, not releasing my son, and found her crying little sniffling tears.

I frowned, wanting to cry harder for my sister. “No, sweetie.”

Her face crumpled. “I want you to be my mommy too!”

I let go of Tristan with one hand, and wrapped it around her, pulling her in for a group hug. “I am, Ivy. In all the ways that count, I am your mom. It isn’t blood that makes someone a mother, it’s how they care about you,” I dotted kisses all over the top of her head.

The three of us continued to cry, clinging to each other.

I was glad Tristan knew the truth, that they both did.

Now, it would be easy to move on…I hoped.

chapter twenty

“Why do we have to go?” Tristan stomped his feet as I tried to fix him in his dress clothes.

I was losing my patience with him.

I had been trying to get him ready for my mom’s funeral for the last twenty minutes and he was being impossible.

“Because, she’s my mom and your grandma. It would be wrong not to go,” I explained, trying to get his pants on but he was wiggling too much.

“She was mean! I don’t want to go!”

“Tristan,” I warned.

Somebody knocked on the door and Tristan scampered away, courtesy of my distraction.

I groaned, rising to my feet, and striding across the small apartment to see who was there.

I wasn’t surprised to find Trace standing there in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt.

“Hey,” I ran my fingers through my hair to get the long strands out of my line of vision. “We’re not quite ready yet,” I pointed over my shoulder at the shrieking Tristan, who was running around in nothing but a pair of robot underwear.

“Uncle Trace!” He shrieked, running towards the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Trace bent down, scooping Tristan into his arms. “Dude,” he tickled my son’s stomach, “why are you naked?”

“I’m not na
ked, silly,” Tristan giggled, “I’ve got my big boy underwear on.”

“That you do,” Trace laughed, walking into the apartment. “I wish Dean wore those.”

“But Dean’s a baby!” Tristan screamed exuberantly.

“I still wish he didn’t poop himself,” Trace groaned, spinning Tristan through the air before dropping him on the couch, much to the boy’s delight.

“Mommy! Uncle Trace said poop!”

I dropped my head in
my hands. I didn’t think Trace showing up was going to help things.

“Yeah, yeah,” Trace groaned, reaching for the clothes on the floor that I’d been trying to wrestle Tristan into wearing. “It’s time to get you dressed.”

“I don’t wanna!” Tristan tried to climb over the back of the couch, but Trace grabbed him.

“You don’t want to dress all fancy like me?” Trace asked him.

Tristan’s lips pursed in thought as he studied his uncle. “Well, okay.”

“That’s what I thought,” Trace chuckled, helping Tristan into his clothes.

I was already dressed and ready to go. So was Ivy.

She’d been struggling with the fact that I was really Tristan’s mother, but not hers. Seeing as how I continued to treat them exactly the same as I did before the truth came out, she was coming around.

Trace finally got Tristan dressed and then we had to go.

After the coroner had performed an autopsy, they’d discovered my mom died from a lethal mix of alcohol and drugs. I had obviously been ruled out a suspect then—if I really had been one.

Trace’s family was paying for her funeral since I couldn’t afford it, and that pained me. I didn’t want them feeling obligated to help me, especially with something like this, but I’d had no choice but to let them.

Outside, Olivia waited in their Land Rover, waving enthusiastically when she saw us leaving the apartment. I
saw Dean in the back, banging his hand against the window and leaving smudged prints.

“Thanks for doing this,” I whispered to Tra
ce, “and thanks for coming here so we don’t have to go alone.”

“We’re here for you
,” Trace pulled me into a hug when we reached the end of the steps. “We’re your family. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I confessed.

Ever since things blew up with Trent and then again with my mom, Trace had become my savior. He looked out for the kids and me. It meant a lot to me—more than I could express, especially since I wasn’t the type to appreciate help. Trace had a way about him that made it so you couldn’t help but like him. I could see why Olivia fell for him.

“We’ll see you there,” Trace smiled, getting in the Land Rover.

I buckled Tristan into his booster seat and Ivy climbed into the spot beside him, buckling her seatbelt.

I closed the back pass
enger door and stood outside for a moment. I inhaled the fresh spring hair, thankful that this late March weather was surprisingly warm. I needed that warmth on a day like today to blanket me in comfort.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I could do this.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

We were burying her today.

That was it.

Nothing bad was going to happen.

She was gone.

It was over.

It was over; I repeated the thought. I wa
nted to cry out with joy. Today truly did mark the first day of the rest of my life.

I got in the car, smiling at Tristan and Ivy as I looked back at them in the rearview mirror.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I whispered. “I promise.”

“I know,” Ivy smiled.

I spoke to the kids about random things as I drove to the cemetery. I wanted to distract them from what we were about to face. They’d never had to deal with death before, and while neither of them missed the woman we’d all once called mom, I knew it would be a difficult experience full of curious questions. I hoped I was prepared.

I parked behind Trace’s Land Rover and walked with the kids across the cemetery lawn to where I knew the casket would be waiting.

Trace and Olivia were already there. I was shocked to see Ellie, Trent and Trace’s grandma, as well as their mom Lily.

Lily held a squirming Dean, while Trace and Olivia stood a few feet away. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Trace stare at his wife lovingly, his fingers stroking her small baby bump.

I was touched by the gesture of them all being there. Trace was right. They were my family, and I needed to stop acting like an outsider. Tristan would forever be a part of their lives, which meant I would be too.

My mouth fell open as disgust clogged my throat. Jim was there, dressed in stained black pants and a white t-shirt. There was nothing remotely nice about what he wore—not that it mattered, but I couldn’t believe he was daring to show his face here after what he’d tried to do to me. Besides, I didn’t think he’d ever loved my mom. They’d both used each other for different reasons, reasons I didn’t want to even contemplate.

As I met the group, I refused to look at or acknowledge Jim. He was scum and didn’t deserve my time. Just looking at him was giving me the creeps. After today I’d never have to see the man again.

I took my seat, which was unfortunately beside Jim, and settled the kids.

The others sat down in the chairs behind us.

I heard voices, and for a brief moment hope sparked
and I believed that Trent had heard about my mom and shown up. It wasn’t him, though. It was Jude and Tatum, making their way through the dewy grass. Tatum’s shoe got stuck and Jude grabbed ahold of her arm to keep her from falling. She leveled him with a glare, shouting something about not needing his help. Those two were ridiculous.

“I’m glad you guys are here,” I stood to greet them, hugging each of them. I was overcome with a feeling of…completeness. Trace and Olivia were here, as were Ellie and Lily, and now with Jude and Tatum joining us, I realized that I wasn’t as alone as I’d always believed. I’d been so blinded by
my mom’s hatred for me, that I didn’t think anyone else could ever care for me. I was wrong though.

After about ten minutes, my grandparent’s arrived, and it was time to get the short ceremony underway.

It didn’t take long. There wasn’t much to be said, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell lies for the sake of not speaking ill of the dead. The woman lying in that casket might have birthed me, but she was nothing to me. You have to earn love, and she’d never bothered to try. I’d been nothing but a hindrance to her, and then Tristan had become a way for her to trap and guilt me. She couldn’t do that anymore. It was harsh to say, but she’d gotten what was coming for her.

We stood to place flowers on her casket one at a time.

“Mommy,” Tristan tugged on the skirt of my dress. It warmed my heart that he’d had no hesitation in calling me mom instead of Row once I told him the truth. The little boy hadn’t even batted an eye.

“What is it, baby?” I asked, looking down at him.

“That man keeps staring at me,” he pointed towards a tree behind us, enough distance away that it was difficult to see, but there was no mistaking that form. My mouth parted with a gasp.

Trenton.

He knew and he was here.

I dared to hope that a part of him still cared for me. In reality though, he was probably only here because of Tristan.

“It’s okay,” I smiled at Tristan. “That’s your daddy.”

Tristan’s blue eyes widened with surprise. “
That’s my daddy?” He echoed my words back to me.

“
Yes,” my voice was soft as I played with the silky strands of his nearly blond hair.

“Wow,” Tristan gasped.

It was time for me to place my flower on the casket, so our conversation was cut short.

When I st
epped back in front of my chair I gasped as Jim’s hand found my butt. That dirty fucker—

Trace cleared his throat, placing his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Take your hand off of her
now
.” His tone spoke of dire consequences if Jim didn’t comply.

Jim’s hand dropped from my butt and he stared
ahead as if nothing had ever happened.

When I looked back to where Trent had been standing, I saw his form retreating, his head bowed.

I guessed he couldn’t stand to look at me any longer.

I had to be okay though. I’d known this would happen and now that the truth was out there, there was nothing I could do. He knew of Tristan and he knew I loved him. I couldn’t keep fighting for something that was never going to happen. It was pointless.

“Mommy?” Tristan asked. “Where’d the man go? I thought you said he was my daddy? Doesn’t he want to say hi to me?”

Tristan’s words broke my already shattered heart into pieces that more closely resembled dust than shards.

I bent so I was at his level—I always hated towering above him when I spoke.

“I know he wants to say hi to you,” I rubbed his cheek, noting the tears shimmering in his blue eyes, “but he can’t right now. Okay?”

Tristan nodded. “Is he going to live with us?”

“No, sweetie,” I kissed his forehead. “He’s not. One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand this better.”

Tristan tilted his head, shrugging his small shoulders and that was that. Kids could let things roll off them better than adults could. They didn’t understand the harsh sting of rejection.

“Come on, Tristan,” Trace reached for the boy. “Want a piggyback ride?”

“Yay!” Tristan shrieked in delight as Trace hoisted him onto his back. It should have been Trent doing that, not Trace, but I was still thankful for the gesture.

Ivy’s hand clasped in mine and
I glanced down at her. She looked so much older than an eight year old, more like a teenager. Her light hair was long, curling down her back, and her hazel eyes were wide and expressive. She looked like a miniature version of me. I knew we both had different dads—like mine, hers hadn’t stuck around—so we both inherited our looks from our mom. I had seen pictures of my mom when she was younger, and she had been beautiful, but her attitude and lifestyle had turned her into an ugly person.

Trace ran towards the cars, with Tristan’s arms wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold.
Tristan’s giggle carried back to us with the breeze. It made me smile watching Tristan interact with his uncle.

Ivy peered up at me as we wal
ked along. Olivia was beside us with Dean propped on her hip.

Ivy didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was thinking really hard about something. She was a lot like me in that way. We were both deep thinkers who rarely spoke our thoughts out loud.

She stopped walking and I halted with her. She bit her lip, looking around, and I knew she was nervous to ask whatever was on her mind.

“What is it, Ivy?” I prodded. “You can ask me anything, you know that.”

She nodded, but still didn’t say anything. After a moment of thought, she looked up at me. “Are you really going to be able to keep me?” She squeaked. “Tristan’s your kid, but I’m not,” she frowned. “I don’t want them to take me away from you,” tears pricked her hazel eyes. “I don’t want to be a foster kid.”

“Oh, Ivy,” I crushed her to my chest, “I will never let anyone take you from me,” I vowed.

I knew the night my mom died that this was a thought weighing heavily on Ivy’s mind.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I assured her, smoothing my fingers through her soft hair.

She nodded, but the look in her eyes told me she didn’t quite believe me.

That was okay, though, because soon enough I’d be able to prove her wrong. I wasn’t going to let anyone take the kids from me—not that I thought they’d try. I was an adult, I had a roof over their heads, and I made enough money to support them. The court had no reason to find someone more suitabl
e.