“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 Trace, “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 passenger 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 wanted 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 stepped 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 walked 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 suitable.
Trace unwound Tristan’s arms from around his neck and lowered the little boy to the ground.
Tristan ran to me, jumping up and down excitedly, asking if he could ride in Trace’s car. He was completely unaffected by the fact that we’d just been by the side of a dead person.
“Uh…” I looked up at Trace.
“It’s fine,” he grinned crookedly. “Why don’t we all head to my mom’s place for an early dinner? Your grandparents, Jude, and Tatum can come too.” He leaned against the side of his large black SUV with his arms crossed over his chest.
I thought it over for a moment. I hated to be a burden, but I really didn’t want to be alone right now. Besides, he’d extended an invitation.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Yay!” Tristan shrieked, running into his uncle’s arms.
It amazed me how quickly Tristan had embraced Trace—but at his age, the kid never met a stranger.
I removed Tristan’s booster seat from the car and put it in Trace’s. I buckled him in while Trace tended to Dean. Ivy had already gotten in my car. I let Jude and Tatum know what we were doing and that they were welcome to join us. They both seemed unsure if they should or not. They knew the truth about Tristan now. Neither had said much to me about it, but I knew it shocked them.
My grandparents had been stunned when I told them the truth about Tristan. I noticed they’d already left. I knew they were hurt that I hadn’t confided in them about my son and how horrible my mom was. They’d been relatively clueless to her actions. They’d known she drank, but not that she hit me.
As I sat behind the driver’s seat and prepared to leave, my eyes landed on the parking lot across form the funeral home. A very familiar black car was parked there and a shiver ran up my spine. Even though he was so far away, and I couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, I felt his eyes on me. It was like his gaze alone was a caress.
“Row, they’re leaving,” Ivy warned, snapping me back to reality.
I put the car in drive, following Trace’s large black SUV so that I didn’t get lost on the way to the mansion. My body hummed with a nervous energy, wondering if Trent would show up. A part of me hoped he did, and another part hoped he didn’t. I wasn’t ready to face him yet, after I told him I loved him and he did nothing. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to face him. I felt like everything had been said between us and there was nothing left.
“You look sad,” Ivy remarked from the backseat. “Is it because of mom?”
“No,” I answered, probably too quickly considering it was my mom who was dead and I should feel a tiny bit remorseful.
“Then what is it?” She asked.
Ivy was far too observant for her own good.
“It’s nothing,” I replied. I didn’t need to go into details with her of the fuckedupness of my life.
Ivy’s plump pink lips turned down in a frown and her fingers clasped together as I watched her briefly from the rearview mirror. Her gaze left me and she propped her head on one hand as she looked out the window. I knew she was mad that I wasn’t telling her what was wrong with me. But she was eight years old. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her, but more my need to keep her a child. I’d had to grow up fast, and I didn’t want the same fate for her. Unfortunately, I was afraid it had already happened.
Unless you’ve experienced it, you didn’t understand what growing up in a household like ours did to a person. You constantly had to live in fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. My mother—as far as I knew—had never laid a hand on Ivy or Tristan, but she had hit me in front of them on more than one occasion. If I had left, what would have stopped her from taking her anger out on one of them?
When we turned down the narrow drive that led to the mansion Ivy sat up straighter. “Where are we?”
“This is where Trace and his brother grew up,” I answered.
“Why don’t you ever say his brother’s name?” She commented, peering around the seat at me. “Is it because he’s Tristan’s dad?”
Since Trace was constantly hanging around, and wanted to be a part of Tristan’s life, I’d been forced to tell both of the kids about Trenton. It had been hard, especially because Tristan didn’t understand.
“You miss him, don’t you?” She continued when I didn’t answer.
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I squeaked.
She nodded, tapping her fingers against the glass window. “Why don’t you tell him that?”
“It’s complicated,” I ground out—not angry with her, but at myself, because I still cared.
“When you love someone, it shouldn’t be that complicated,” her hazel eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.
Leave it to an eight year old to be wi
ser than most adults.
“Whoa!” She bounced excitedly in her seat as the mansion came into view. “This is a house?!” She exclaimed, her eyes round with awe.
“Yeah,” I replied, parking the car.
“It looks like something from a movie!”
I couldn’t help laughing, but she was right. The large house didn’t seem like it could possibly be real, and once you got inside, that seemed even truer. It was so easy to get lost in there.
As we followed the Wentworth’s inside, Tristan and Ivy both looked around with their mouths hanging open.
“Wow,” Tristan gasped. “Can we live here?”
I laughed, ruffling his hair as we entered the foyer, heading for the dining room. “We have a home.”
“I like this one more,” he pouted.
“You can visit anytime you want,” Trace piped in. “We have a pool…two actually.”
“Two pools?” Ivy exclaimed, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking nervously at the shiny floors. Ivy had been very shy around Trace and his family—she was a cautious person—so her outburst clearly embarrassed her.
“Yep!” Trace clapped his hands together, before pushing open the door to the dining room. “They’re great!”
Ivy’s smile was small as she tried to hide behind me. I think Trace’s exuberance always frightened her. She wasn’t used to someone like him.
We sat down at the table, and I wasn’t surprised when Tristan stole the seat beside Trace. Tristan thought he was the most amazing person ever. If only he knew his dad. I doubted Trent was going to reach out to me, and with my mom out of the picture, I knew I should contact him and let him see Tristan. I was scared he had changed his mind and wanted nothing to do with our son. So, I hadn’t done anything.
Someone I didn’t recognize brought out a meal that had already been prepared in anticipation of our arrival. My eyes widened at the delicious looking grilled chicken sandwich. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry until food was set in front of me.
“This looks yummy,” Ivy smiled shyly at the people seated around us.
“I hope you think it tastes as good as it looks,” Lily smiled back.
Tempting Rowan Page 27
