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“I think,” Jude put a hand to his chest, “that I should be your children’s godfather, since Tater Tot here refuses to let me have Jude Jr. for a few more years.”
Rowan’s lips quirked into a smile. “I think Trace would kill me if we didn’t let him be the godfather.”
“I heard my name!”
A moment later Trace, Trenton’s older brother, appeared and slung his arm over Rowan’s shoulder. “You called for me.”
She laughed, pushing him away. “No, I just said your name. There’s a difference.”
“Usually, when someone says my name it’s because they want me. I’m a very likable guy,” he grinned at Jude and me. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, shielding his green eyes. Heavy stubble dotted his cheeks and chin. He was dressed the same way he always was, jeans, a white shirt, and a plaid shirt over top.
“Trace!” His wife called, walking up to us. “Grace won’t stop crying,” she held their baby daughter. “She needs to go to sleep before the fireworks start in an hour or she’ll get too upset to sleep.” Olivia rocked the crying baby in her arms. The poor woman looked exhausted, but happy. Their son, Dean, the cutest three year old I’d ever seen clung to her leg peeking shyly at us. He had a mop of dark wavy hair and green eyes like his dad. He was even dressed similarly in a plaid shirt.
Trace held out his arms for Grace and began to sing to the baby. Her cries ceased and she looked up at her daddy in awe. She was dressed in an adorable pink and purple flowered dress, with a white headband around her head. Like her brother she had dark slightly curly hair.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Trace called, walking off and into the large mansion singing to his daughter.
Something about seeing Trace with his kids made me look up at Jude and think about him as a father one day. Our kids would be the luckiest kids on the planet.
Dean tugged on Olivia’s jeans and she lowered to pick up the boy, grunting at his weight. Dean laid his head on her shoulder, blinking curious owlish eyes at all of us. “Where daddy go?” He asked her.
“He went to put Gracie to bed,” she kissed his cheek. He wiggled in her arms, wanting down now.
“Where Rent?” Dean asked, looking around.
Olivia held out her hand for him. “I don’t know. Let’s go find him.”
Rowan nodded her head for us to follow Olivia and Dean.
We found Trent sitting at a table with Ivy and Tristan playing a card game. When Dean saw his uncle he screamed, “Rent!” and took off running.
Olivia shook her head and smiled at us. “He’s such a handful, but I love him so much.”
“Believe me, I understand completely,” Rowan nodded towards Tristan. “Kids are hard work, but worth every second of it.”
Olivia nodded her head in agreement. “Grace makes our family feel complete…although,” she bit her lip, “Trace is already talking about wanting another baby. I think he’d be happy if I spent the next ten years of my life pregnant,” she laughed. “He loves being a father,” her eyes grew misty, and at that moment he returned. When Dean saw his daddy he forgot all about Trent and took off running once more. Trace pretended to fall to the ground when the little boy collided with his legs and the two tumbled to the ground. Trace picked up his son, tossing him in the air. “Seeing him with our children,” Olivia sighed dreamily, watching her husband and son, “makes me love him even more and I never thought that was possible.”
Trace picked up Dean, lifting the small boy onto his shoulders, and sauntered over to us. Dean pulled and plucked at Trace’s hair, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“When are we eating?” Trace asked. “I’m hungry.” Catching sight of his mom he yelled her over.
Lily Wentworth breezed over, her dark hair blowing around her shoulders and her blue eyes bright. “Yes?” She asked.
“I want to know when we’re eating. I need food.”
“Food! Food!” Dean cried, beating the top of Trace’s head with his hands.
“Calm down, Dean.” Trace reached up, grabbing the little boy’s ha
nds. “You’re going to hurt daddy.”
Dean frowned and when Trace released his small hands the boy ceased his onslaught.
Lily smiled beautifully. She reminded me of an heiress or maybe a princess with her effortless beauty and kind personality. “You’re always hungry,” she laughed at her oldest son, “but the food is almost ready. Why don’t you guys go ahead and get seated at one of the tables.” She waved her hand to the many picnic tables littering the green lawn. Each table was covered with a checkered red and white tablecloth.
“Sounds good,” Trace grinned, lifting Dean off from around his neck. Dean giggled in delight as Trace spun him through the air.
Trent and Jude pushed two of the picnic tables together so we’d all be able to sit together.
