Page 91 of Never Stop
“I know I made mistakes when you girls were growing up, but things are different now.”
“Like what? We aren’t little girls who need their mommy anymore?” Brooke hissed in a low voice.
Beverly took a deep breath, but before she could speak again, the waitress came over and took our drink orders. We all indicated that we wanted the buffet. It was the most expensive thing on the menu, and like Bailee stated the night before, Stan the Man was apparently loaded. The tension still hung as we waited for Beverly to continue what she was going to say.
“I know I was a horrible mother to you both. I was young and selfish. Now that I’m older and I see how Stanley is with his family, it makes me regret how our relationships are. He has grandchildren, and I don’t want to miss out on my own. I want to be there for you girls and spoil my grandsons and granddaughters.”
Brooke glared at her. “Let me ask you this, Mother. How do you expect us to welcome you into our lives when you never wanted anything to do with us?”
“That’s not true at all. I used to see Bai when she was going to Berkeley.”
“Wrong,” Bailee chimed in. “I tried to see you on the weekends, but you always had plans.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and reminded us that we could get up at any time to help ourselves to the buffet. But there was no way any of us were leaving in the middle of this conversation.
“Do you know when the last time you saw me was?” Brooke asked, not letting Beverly reply to Bailee.
She stared at her for a few moments. “I know it’s been awhile—”
“Five years, Mother. Five years!” I squeezed Brooke’s knee, trying to calm her.
Beverly held her hand over her heart. “It can’t be that long.”
Brooke snorted. “Well, it is. I haven’t seen you since Bailee graduated high school. No birthdays. No Thanksgivings. No Christmas’. Nothing for five years.”
Beverly looked as though she were about to cry, a frown curling her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We already know that I’m a bad mother. I’m here to change that.”
Brooke stared at her and then reached over and grabbed Bailee’s hand. “Excuse us for a moment.” The girls stood and walked away, leaving me at the awkward table.
Beverly turned pleading eyes to me. Even though this was about my wife, it wasn’t my battle. If I needed to, I would make it my war, but it seemed like my woman was handling it all on her own.
I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Stanley. “So, you’re in Beverly Hills. Are you a Dodgers or Angels fan?”
Stanley blinked at me. “Baseball?”
I nodded then took a sip of my coffee.
“I don’t follow baseball. I enjoy watching polo and playing a round of golf.”Of course he did.“Do you play golf?”
“I’ve been known to hit a few buckets at the range and a few rounds here and there. Now Brooke,” I smiled, “she’s great at golf.”
“What?” Beverly asked, surprised.
I smiled. “Miniature golf that is. She kicked my ass on the cruise ship.”
“When did you two go on a cruise?” Beverly inquired.
I tilted my head slightly at her question. She really didn’t know anything about her daughter. Before I could respond, the girls returned.
“So, we talked,” Brooke stated after they sat. I returned my hand to her knee. “We’re willing to give you another shot on the terms that if you miss one major holiday or event, we’re doneforever. That means, birthdays, holidays, Bailee’s wedding, the birth of our children—whatever. There’s no excuse for you not to be here.”
Beverly leaped out of her chair and rounded the table. “Thank you,” she cried as she hugged both of her daughters. “Now, let’s go get our food and then you can tell me all about this cruise you two love birds went on.”
Brooke swung her gaze to me, and I shrugged. We could kill two stories in one. How we met, and when I knew I’d never stop loving her.
It was my turn to be a ball of nerves.
The airline stated a child could fly by themselves at the age of five. Five! Who they hell puts their five-year-old on a plane by themselves? Not me. I was having a hard enough time putting my eleven-year-old on a plane alone. This was going to be a first for me. I used to fly Cheyenne to California to see Bill and Trish, fly home, and then fly back when it was time to pick her up. It had cost me a pretty penny, but I didn’t want her getting on a plane by herself. Hell, I still didn’t.
