Page 120 of Believing Bailey (Granton University 2)

“Who’s Ophelia?” Beck asked as he returned to the room with a bottle of Tylenol. After handing it dutifully to Tess, he plopped down on the bed next to me and curled his body around me so that we were touching everywhere, just like Tess and Jonah and Logan and Paige always did.

“Oh, just some character on this TV show we love...” I glanced at him and grinned, touching his face, because I could. “You know what? I’ll just make you watch it with me.”

Epilogue

BAILEY

Years and Years and Years Later

“Bethany! Baxter! Brynlee!” I yelled up the stairs. “Hurry your asses up. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

As I moved to the hall closet and pulled out four coats, the first pair of footsteps sounded on the stairs. They were loud and pounding, letting me know my youngest daughter was tromping down first.

“Mama,” she started in before she even rounded the corner, hands on her hips and ponytail swinging indignantly behind her. “Baxter says I have to wear a dress, but Daddy said I didn’t have to. So I’m not changing.”

She glanced down at her outfit, which consisted of nice slacks, cowboy boots, and a gray vest over a grey and orange plaid long sleeve. For my tomboy, that was as dressy as she got.

I sighed wearily, tired of getting stuck in middle of these endless battles my second and third daughter

s were always forging. “We already told you, you don’t have to wear a dress or skirt or any other girly contraption.”

“But Baxter—”

I help up a hand to shush her. “Just stop listening to Baxter.” Then, to appease her, I hollered up the steps again, “Baxter, she doesn’t have to wear a dress.”

“Well, she’d look better in one,” Baxter lamented as she finally appeared at the top of the steps, decked out in a long-sleeved black and gold number, pantyhose and high-heeled pumps. Her mahogany hair fell down around her shoulders with a gold clip holding up one side. “We’re supposed to be honoring Daddy tonight. She doesn’t look very respectful in that ugly, gaudy—”

“She looks just fine,” I ground out, lifting my eyebrows meaningfully as my girly daughter swept down the stairs.

With a dramatic sigh, Baxter rolled her eyes. “Fine, have it your way. She looks like a heathen, but whatever.”

“She looks like Brynlee, which is exactly how your father wants her to look.” I passed Baxter her coat before tossing Brynlee’s her way. “Just as you look like Baxter, which is perfect for you.”

I started to slip my arms into my jacket as the last set of footsteps clattered toward us. “Sorry I’m late. I just had two more pages until I finished the chapter.”

Bethany, my bookworm, was too busy stuffing her kindle into her purse to watch where she was going that she tripped on the last step before catching herself. She wore a long, flowing skirt, nice top and flat pumps, but wasn’t nearly as decorated as Baxter. I couldn’t help but grin as I asked, “Did you brush your hair?”

Her hand went to the side of her head. “Oh, shoot.” She began to whirl around and race back up the stairs, but Baxter rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Don’t bother. I have a brush right here.” She opened her own purse to pull one free.

“Oh! Thank you.” Bethany turned her back to Baxter and let her younger sister comb the tangles from her hair. As the two worked and Brynlee discovered a piece of gum in the pocket of her coat before plugging it into her mouth, Bethany glanced my way. “Is Daddy nervous?”

“He says he’s not.” I handed her her coat. “But you know he is.”

“He keeps messing with his hat?” All three girls guessed.

I nodded and grinned. “Oh, yeah. Big time.”

“I’d be peeing my pants right now if I were him,” Baxter announced as she finished with Bethany’s hair only to aim her brush Brynlee’s way and immediately be batted away.

Brynlee snorted. “I seriously doubt Daddy’s pissing his pants.”

Baxter sniffed. “And I seriously doubt a twelve-year-old girl should be saying piss.”

“Bite me.”

“Oh, I’ll—” Baxter lifted her brush threatening, only to be stopped by Bethany, who snagged it neatly from her hand, and me who hollered, “Girls! Cut it out. This is Beck’s big night. Don’t—”

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