Chapter Sixty-Two
Liam
It takes months of work before Whitmore mansion is restored to its former glory. All the gaudy junk Deena put in had to be gotten rid of, and Constance’s Bosendorfer Imperial needed to be brought out and restored.
I never asked Olivia about the house because she was already exhausted by the pregnancy and delivery. But I wanted to give her back the childhood home she lost when Hugh let Deena and Brielle take it over.
“You’re so whipped,” London says with a grin.
“Thank you for your help.” She and her mother have been instrumental in providing a lot of details. Mrs. Moore helped, too, especially with restoring the more private parts of the home outsiders couldn’t access. “At this rate, I’m going to owe your family for ten generations or something.”
She laughs. “I’m just glad Olivia has you in her corner. She’ll love you even more after this.”
“That’s the idea.”
I thought a ring or a pendant would suffice when she gave birth. But holding the tiny girl with fuzzy black hair on her crown, I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Olivia deserves the world. And what better time to give her the world than her birthday?
I drive to her office after work and brighten when I spot her coming out of the office with our baby in her arms. It’s “Bring Your Kid to Work Day,” and she decided to take Connie.
“Happy birthday.” I kiss her forehead, then buss the baby.
Connie giggles that toothless giggle and waves her arms. She’s in a purple onesie that says DADDY’S PRINCESS across her chest.
“Look at you, always so decisive and clever like Mommy,” I coo.
Olivia laughs. “You’re so biased.”
“Hey, now. I never say anything untruthful. Besides, our daughter is perfect like Mommy.” Connie Alexandra Kingswood-Whitmore. That’s the name Olivia wanted to give our child, and I loved it.
“Let’s go. I have this amazing place where we can celebrate,” I say, taking the baby from Olivia and leading her to the Cullinan. I had to get something bigger than my Spectre since we needed more space.
Our black terrier puppy Momo wags his tail at the sight of his two favorite people in the world. He’s a rescue. Olivia said she wanted one, and I agreed. Momo isn’t a substitute for Pochi—nothing ever will be—but it’s a sign she’s healing and learning to trust that the things she loves will stay.
Since Olivia took Connie to work, I took Momo to my office. Mike and Emmie ragged me for bringing a dog rather than Connie. But my wife always gets priority.
“Where are you taking me? Most places you like don’t allow babies,” she says.
“This one does. It’ll welcome Connie.” I grin, then drive.
Olivia sits next to the baby in the back, fussing over the little one.
She adores our daughter, who can’t seem to tear her eyes from her mom.
London often comes over to coo and exclaim as well.
Our home is already half full with all the toys and gifts Connie has received from her godmother, aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents, although I’m not sure what she’s supposed to do with the pair of super tiny toe shoes from Czarina.
I let Connie and Momo distract Olivia as I drive toward the Whitmore mansion and maneuver along the now-familiar streets. Finally, Olivia looks up and gasps. “What are we doing here?”
“I want to show you something.”
I drive past the stately gates, polished to their former sheen. The fountain that stayed stagnant for years shoots clear water into the air, cutting through the copper-and-pink sunset sky.
I park the car and open the door. Olivia steps out, holding the baby and staring at the mansion. Momo jumps out to join us.
“Why are we here?” she asks shakily.
I stand behind her, hands on her shoulders to convey comfort and my support. “I want you to have a chance to reclaim your childhood—what you’ve lost.”
She trembles slightly as she gazes at the house.
“Or we can go back home. Either way.” I keep my voice gentle.
She shakes her head, then takes a small step forward.
Placing a hand at the small of her back, I escort her inside. “This is your legacy, Olivia. Hugh and his trashy family never took it from you. It’s been here all along, just waiting for your return.”
Olivia steps into the foyer, her eyes wide with shock. “This is exactly how I remembered it. The scent of roses and beeswax. It’s how it always was.”
I smile. Her reaction is all I could have hoped for.
A hint of grief ripples over her face. “Those stairs. That’s where Mom fell. But… That’s also where she used to call out my name and come down to cradle my face and say, ‘Welcome home, baby.’”
I squeeze her shoulder.
“I feel like she’d say, ‘Welcome home, babies.’” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and something like acceptance and peace settles over her.
Her eyes go to the huge window facing the garden, blooming with a profusion of roses. Her face crumples a little, even as a smile breaks through. “This is exactly how it was. Mom’s roses.”
I wrap an arm around her. “And it’s yours again. Yours and Connie’s.”
“Yours, too.” She rests her head on my chest. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go in and have our celebratory dinner. I’m sure Frederich has outdone himself.”
Smiling, we walk further inside, with Momo following on our heels, tail wagging.