Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (18 page)

Trace smiled at Sarah. “I like kids and they like me.”

I snorted. “That’s because you act like a kid yourself.”

“Exactly,” his eyes sparkled. “There’s nothing wrong with never growing up.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” Rebecca warned her son when he brightened at Trace’s words.

Jamie frowned, his small shoulders slumping. Being a kid though, he quickly got over it. Looking at me, he asked, “Are you going to live with us now?”

I tried to hide my smile. “No, Jamie. We’re leaving today,” I explained.

“Oh,” his frown deepened. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Me neither,” Sarah chimed in, hugging her arms around Trace’s neck. “Stay! Stay!”

“Sorry, princess, but we can’t,” Trace tucked her small head under his chin.

“No,” she began to cry. “Don’t leave.”

Trace rubbed her back soothingly, looking at me with panic stricken eyes.

I was more clueless than he was. I’d rarely been around small children growing up and had no idea what to do with the tear-fest.

“Please, stay,” Sarah pleaded. “You can live in my room. My dolls won’t care.”

Trace chuckled, and pried her arms from his neck so he could look into her wide brown eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I have to go home to my family.”

“But,” her lower lip trembled as she fought more tears, “we can be your family.”

“I know you could,” he comforted her, “but my mom and brother would miss me. You don’t want that, right?”

“No,” she shook her head, dark brown ringlets brushing against her shoulders. She looked at her own parents, as if thinking about how they’d miss her.

“Don’t forget about me,” she placed her head against his chest.

“Never, princess,” he kissed the top of her head. “That would be impossible.”

I never knew it could be so hard to say goodbye to people you’d just met. But it was. I was sad to leave Marcus and his family.

“Thank you so much for everything,” I hugged Marcus and Rebecca. “If you’re ever in Northern Virginia, call us.”

“We will,” Marcus assured me.

“Bye, Jamie,” I bent slightly to hug the boy.

“Are you going to visit us again?” Jamie asked.

I shrugged. “You never know.”

“I hope you do.”

“I hope so too,” I smiled, meaning it.

“Bye, Sarah,” I said to the girl, but she was too busy sobbing into Trace’s shoulder to hear me. I swear I saw tears in Trace’s eyes too.

Finally, Marcus pried Sarah from Trace’s arms so we could get in the car. Sarah clung to her dad as she sobbed. Trace bowed his head and ducked into the car.

“Bye guys,” I said one last time.

Trace didn’t waste any time in pulling away.

I looked over at him. “Are you crying?” I gasped.

“No,” he turned his face away from me.

“Liar.”

“There’s something in my eye,” he defended.

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “That’s the oldest excuse in the book. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

“I—” He shrugged, floundering for words. “I feel bad. I didn’t think she’d be that upset by us leaving.”

“She likes you, of course she’s upset. She’s only six,” I reasoned.

“Yeah,” he gripped the steering wheel, “but I don’t want to be responsible for breaking a six year old girl’s heart.”

I laughed. “It’s your own fault. You’re too charming for your own good. I’m pretty sure everyone falls in love with you on sight.”

“It’s the scruff,” he rubbed his jaw. “No one can resist the power of my facial hair.”

“It is pretty amazing,” I reached across and rubbed his cheek.

“So,” his brows furrowed as he became serious, “where do you want to go next? I’ve picked the last three places, so I think you deserve a turn.”

“Hmm,” I pondered. “I really want to see the Statue of Liberty.”

He grinned. “Done.”

A few hours later we parked in New Jersey and rode the subway into New York City. I didn’t like the subway. At all. There were some strange people on there, but Trace had insisted that we ride it for, in his words, “experience’s sake.” Whatever. That was one experience I could’ve done without. There was one man that wasn’t wearing any pants. When we finally got off the subway, I dug Germ-X out of my purse and drenched my hands in its gooeyness. Trace watched me with a raised brow, fighting a smile.

“Here, take some,” I shoved the bottle in his hands.

“Nah, I’m good,” he leaned casually against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“If you ever want me to touch your hands again, you’ll use it,” I warned him.

“Fine,” he took the bottle from me, squirting a small amount in the palm of his hand.

“More than that!”

“Woman,” he groaned, adding some more. “Does this suffice?”

“That’s better,” I eyed the amount in his hand.

After I was sure that every germ on our hands had been killed, I followed him up the stairs, careful not to touch the railing, and outside.

I dug sunglasses out of my bag and put them on.

“Which way do we go?” I asked.

“Give me a second,” he muttered, looking for a map. When he found one, he studied it for a moment before saying, “This way.”

I had to jog to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Slow down,” I pleaded. “I’m short.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“Thanks,” I croaked when he slowed. “My throat hurts from all the singing,” I groaned. The whole drive here, we’d been singing along, non-stop, to Trace’s road trip playlist.

“That’s because you don’t sing enough. You should change that. Your voice is beautiful,” he mused.

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” I rolled my eyes.

He stopped, grabbing my arm to halt me. “Olivia, I would never lie to you. It’s not a part of my personality. If I thought you sounded like a dying cow, I’d tell you. I’m honest like that.”

“That’s so comforting,” I snorted.

“It should be,” his lips spread into a smile. “Now come on,” he took my hand, “we have to hurry so we don’t miss the ferry.”

“Ferry?” I squeaked. “You mean we have to get on a boat thing?”

“Um, yeah,” he looked at me peculiarly. “Is that a problem?”

I gulped. “I—um—get really sea sick.”

He chuckled. “You mean to tell me, that you’re not afraid of heights, but a boat is what gets your stomach in knots. Interesting.”

“It’s a legitimate illness!” I complained. “One time, we went on a fishing trip when I was younger, and I spent the whole time throwing up over the side of the boat.”

“Olivia,” he said my name calmly, “it’s the Statue of Liberty. It needs to be appreciated up close. Not from far away.”

I shook my head rapidly back and forth. “No, no. I can’t do it.”

He eyed me for a moment. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder caveman style.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him, walking away. “You’re not getting me on that boat—ferry thing.”

“How did you think we got to the statue if you didn’t know we had to take the ferry?” He asked, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I never thought about it. But I’m not getting on the ferry.”

I was already nauseous at the thought. I spotted a bench and snagged a seat, breathing deeply in and out, hoping to settle my rolling stomach.

“Olivia?” Trace questioned, squatting in front of me, his hands on my knees. “Are you okay?”

“Give me a minute,” I warned him, taking another deep breath.

Anyone that had never experienced motion sickness of any sort would think I was crazy, but just the
thought
of stepping on a ferry had me feeling sick. I
couldn’t
do it.

I slowly brought my head up to meet his worried gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, smoothing his thumbs over my cheeks.

“As long as I don’t get on the ferry.”

“No ferry,” he grinned. “I would never make you do anything you absolutely didn’t want to do.”

“You made me jump off a bridge!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But that’s because I knew, in the end, that you’d love it. It’s my job to push you out of your comfort zone.”

“I’m not getting on that ferry. It has nothing to do with a comfort zone.”

“Woman, did you hear what I said? I would
never
force you to do anything. Not that I’d have to,” he grinned crookedly.

“You’re so full of yourself.” I playfully pushed his shoulder.

“I have a lot to be proud of,” he waggled his eyebrows as he took my hands and hauled me up. “Come on,” he slung an arm across my shoulders, “we have a statue to see.”

I let him lead me to a better viewing point. The statue was quite spectacular, and I would’ve loved to see it even closer, but I wasn’t going near the ferry.

“I’m sorry,” I said after we’d been standing there for a few minutes.

“What for?” He looked at me questioningly.

“I know you would’ve liked to have gone,” I pointed to the ferry pulling away. “You could’ve gone by yourself.”

“But I didn’t want to,” he smoothed his hands up and down my arms. “I’m perfectly fine standing right here with you.
This
,” he motioned around us, “makes me happy.”

I swallowed thickly. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m holding you back from things. Without—”

He silenced me with his lips.

“Why do you do that?” I gasped breathlessly when he pulled away.

“Do what? Kiss you senseless?” He smirked, pleased with himself.

“Yes, that,” I snapped.

“Sometimes, you need to shut up and kissing you is the most pleasing way to do it.”

“You have one strange thought process,” I commented, fighting a smile.

“You say strange, I say spectacular. Any excuse to kiss you is a good one,” he chuckled. “But what I was going to say to you is, in no way do you ever hold me back. How could you ever think that? Look at all the crazy shit we’ve done.”

I laughed, feeling lighter. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m
always
right. I’m a Wentworth after all,” he winked.

We gazed out at the water and statue for a little while longer before he said, “Ready to go?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Since I wasn’t getting on the ferry, there was no point in hanging around here any longer. At least I’d gotten to see it.

“Wanna head into Manhattan?” He questioned.

I gazed up at the New York City skyline. “Would you think I was weird if I said no?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I won’t think you’re weird.”

“Then no, I’m not interested. Big cities aren’t my thing,” I shrugged.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed me, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m far from it, but I’m glad you think so,” I smiled as we started back to the subway station. I was already dreading what we might encounter on there.

By the time we got back in the car, my stomach had completely settled, and I was ready to do something else. Seeing monuments and museums was interesting, but it was time for something a little more…exciting…like bungee jumping.

Trace plugged his phone in and—wait…was that? No way.

Trace looked at me with wide eyes as I began to laugh hysterically. I clutched my stomach, struggling to breathe, as tears coursed down my face from laughing so hard. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you have the Spice Girls on there.”

“I didn’t put it on there, I swear—”

“This is too funny,” I wiped my face free of tears. “’I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want. So tell me what you want, what you really, really, want. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, really, really, really, wanna zigazig ah,’” I sang along to the song.

Trace shook his head and then joined in.

“’If you wanna be my lover,’” he pointed at me as he sang along, ‘”you gotta get with my friends. Gotta get with my friends. Make it last forever, friendship never ends. If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give. Taking is too easy, but that’s the way it is.’”

Then we started singing together. It was so hard for me not to burst into laughter.

“’Slam your body down and wind it all around. Slam your body down and wind it all around. Uh, uh, uh, uh. Slam your body down and wind it all around. Slam your body down and zigazig, ah…If you wanna be my lover.’”

When the song ended, he turned the volume down.