Beautifully Damaged(42)

"What a real gem you've got there, Lena. Actually, you know what, you two are perfect for each other."

With an outraged huff, she turned and followed after her loser boyfriend and though I knew she wasn't, and probably never had been, the person I thought she was, I was still saddened to realize that such a huge part of my childhood had been a lie.

"Are you okay?" Trace's soft voice touched me some place deep, especially considering that only moments before he was ready to kill a man. I turned into him, pressing my face into his chest.

"I am, Trace -- with you, I am."

A few days later, Trace and I were in his office discussing our plans for Thanksgiving.

"Please, Trace."

"I don't know, Ember."

"Why?"

"What if it doesn't go the way you think it will?"

"Oh, I've no doubt of the outcome."

"How?"

"Because I love you."

I saw surprise cross over his features first and then his expression softened as he walked from across the room to pull me into a hug as he pressed a kiss to my temple.

"Okay."

I smacked a kiss on his lips before I walked to the phone and dialed my dad. I looked over at Trace who was watching me with a slight smile on his face and his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

"Hey, Daddy."

"Emmie. How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm great. I'm bringing someone home for Thanksgiving."

"Lena?"

"No, you were right about her."

"Ah, Em, are you okay? I know she meant a lot to you."

"Well, I was misguided but, yes, I'm fine. Anyway, the person I'm bringing home is Trace, and Daddy, I love him."

Silence greeted that comment as Trace turned into the wall and started banging his head into it.

"What? Didn't I do that right?"

At the same time both my dad and Trace said, "No."

I couldn't help the giggle because they really were so much alike.

"Could I talk to your dad, Ember?" Trace asked.

"Daddy, Trace wants to talk with you."

I handed him the phone and took a step back to listen.

"Hello, Mr. Walsh. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Completely, totally, hopelessly. Thank you, sir. Goodbye, sir."

I just stood there, with an odd look on my face, as Trace hung up the phone and started from the room.

"Wait, what did he say?"

He turned then and I didn't miss the grin tugging at his mouth.

"He asked if I rode a motorcycle and told me I would rent a car to bring his baby girl home. He told me that, under his roof, we'll have separate bedrooms and that everyone chips in with cooking and cleaning up."

"And?"

He leaned up against the door frame as he rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Was there something else?"

"Trace?"

And then those steely blues looked right into mine as all traces of humor were replaced with a quiet sincerity, "He asked me if I loved you and I told him 'totally, completely, hopelessly'."

I knew I looked like an idiot as a big, goofy smile spread over my face as Trace looked at me with tenderness and when next he spoke there was equal parts wonder and disbelief in his tone.

"...and then he welcomed me to the family."

Tears filled my eyes at the look of Trace's face and in that moment, I really hated his family. They deprived him of affection and nurture leaving this wondrous man shocked that he could be loved and at the same time doubting that he deserved to be loved. If it took me the rest of my life, he would know that he was both deserving and worthy of love. Thinking about all of the ways I had to show him love put the smile back on my face.

"Why are you smiling?"

"You're going to really like my family."

A few nights later, Trace and I were home playing The Game of Life on the Wii and I was just not having any luck. My game-world husband looked like a serial killer and though I went to college, incurring a hundred-thousand dollars of debt, I ended up losing my job and became a lounge lizard. Trace, on the other hand, was a doctor, had a beautifully exotic wife, and lived in a mansion. I owed money on every space that I landed while Trace was given money on each of his, thus confirming for me that some people really do walk in the light.

Spinning a six would land me five-hundred-thousand dollars so I concentrated really hard as I rolled, hovering my finger over the button to try and force it to stop on six but instead of a six I got a seven. I fell backwards against the sofa in defeat.

"I have the worst luck."

Trace was unusually quiet so I turned to look at him and, oh my, but I would like to recant my last statement. The man was leaning against the sofa with his legs crossed and his arm such that his head could rest against his fisted hand. The look on his face had my toes curling. Without speaking a word, he pulled me lower on the sofa so that his body could cover me. For a moment he was utterly still as he looked his fill until his mouth lowered and captured mine.