Hey guys! I hope you all are keeping healthy and safe with everything going on. Just wash your hands and remember that even though you think you'll be fine, it doesn't mean you aren't able to spread it to others who are more susceptible to it. So please, just be safe.
Happy reading!
--
"You're sure everything is going to be okay with the two of them?" Amanda asks as I pack my suitcase.
Even though she can't see me, I roll my eyes at her question.
"I have no idea, Amanda," I sigh, trying not to let my frustration at her incessant questions show, "but their meeting is sort of inevitable. I went over it with Josie a few days ago, and she's more than assured me she's okay with this. I wouldn't let Brooke go through with this if Josie wasn't comfortable with this." I fold up some jeans and tuck them in the corner of my suitcase.
"Lighten up, Colt. You're giving me a headache."
I shrug distractedly, even though she can't see me, as I pick up a sweatshirt and fold it into my case. "Yeah, yeah."
"So when do you leave?"
"In two days. Friday."
"What are you doing about work?"
"I've contacted my clients and gave them my personal number if they need to reach me, and I'm bringing anything I need to work on with me." I glance at my briefcase. I'll have to make sure I have all of my necessary documents after I finish packing. "Conference calls and the Internet are really going to save my ass these next couple weeks."
"Don't forget to actually be in the moment while you're down there. You'll have both of your girls down there, and you need to keep sharp."
I sigh, annoyed. "Only one of them is my girl, Amanda. And besides, we're not going to stay in Oak Bend the whole time. It'll be her first time down in Georgia, and I want to show her where I grew up."
"Touching, but I didn't mean it like that."
I scoff. "I'm sure you didn't."
"You're the worst."
I hum distractedly in response as I walk to my closet to get another t-shirt and pair of pants.
"Oh shit," she hisses, "One of my neediest clients is here. I've gotta go. Be safe and text me updates okay?"
"Good luck, and I will, Mom. Thanks," I retort.
"Bye, jackass."
When I return to the bed where my suitcase is perched, I see she's hung up and my music is playing again.
We bicker like cats and dogs but I love her like she's my sister.
Before I get the chance to enjoy my music, I have to call my office.
"Kensington and Associates, how may I help you today?"
"Hey, Kelsey, it's Colt. I just wanted to make sure that all of my appointments for the next two weeks were taken care of. I know we already went over them with the clients on the calendar, but I just want to confirm."
"Yes, sir. I'm looking at your calendar, and all meetings have been postponed. Mr. and Mrs. Halloway have already been notified of the call to take place on Wednesday of next week, as well as Mr. Dabrowski and Ms. Velez."
"Thank you, Kelsey."
"Was that all?"
"Yes, ma'am."
We say our goodbyes and end the call.
A few more minutes and country songs later and my suitcase is stuffed to the brim.
I need coffee.
Johnny follows me out of my room and into the kitchen so I can make myself some. He hates being by himself, and if someone's home they need to be in his sight at all times. Which is why he's coming with us on the trip. The bed and breakfast in the town over from Oak Bend that I booked for the two weeks also runs a kennel and was willing to compensate for Johnny's care as well as ours.
After learning that the OG Johnny had puppies, resulting in Jake, I had wondered if there was any chance that he was my Johnny's sire, but I had ruled the possibility out quickly when I remembered that Johnny wasn't a stud dog, at least officially, and I had gotten my Johnny on a completely different side of Georgia.
I hear the front door open, and Brooke's fruity perfume wafts over to where I'm standing in the kitchen.
"Hey, babe," she greets.
"How was your day?" I ask over my shoulder, putting the coffee filter in. Call me old school, but I don't like the newer coffee machines. I'll stick with my Mr. Coffee.
Brooke had spent the day with her sister browsing dress stores. She wasn't actively looking for anything yet. She'd had her wedding planned since she was 10, she'd told me one morning a few years ago, and she knew all of the exact details she wanted from her dress down to the table cloths she wanted for the reception. I hadn't expected anything less, and I certainly wasn't going to get in her way.
Whereas with Josie, we were in such a rush that we hardly planned anything. She wore her grandmother's wedding dress, though she had made some alterations to it and added or reduced parts of it, and had simply taken SueEllen, June, Carrie Ann, and her cousin to buy sundresses as the bridesmaid's gowns; her treat for agreeing to be part of the wedding. Tommy, Wes, and Bobby were my best men, of course, and wore a nice shirt with black pants, and their ties matched the bridesmaid's dresses. I think we had gotten more dressed up for prom than we did for our actual wedding, but just because it wasn't planned as thoroughly as I know this one is going to be doesn't mean it was any less beautiful or elegant in its own way.
"Great, actually." She walks over and pecks me on the cheek. I lean my back against the counter in front of the coffee pot and rest my hands on her waist. "Car and I went to a couple of dress stores and then went to the coffee shop to look online window-shop for other things. I've got more of an idea of exactly what I want to wear and how I want the bridesmaids to look. Also, I have a random question for you," she says casually.
I chuckle at her words and nod. "Shoot."
"Gold or silver?"
"For what?"
"Just answer the question," she laughs.
She's ridiculous.
"Hmm," I hum, tapping a finger to my chin. "Not until you tell me what for. I need context, woman."
She warm hand pushes my face back gently as her eyes light up cheerfully.
"I want to know what color accessories for my hair."
Is this a trick question?
"I thought you weren't supposed to see them in your hair."
"Not these ones. They're fancy," she mocks in a weird voice, and I grin at her antics. "Also, I'm redying my hair. Remember when it was a little redder? That's what I'm planning
"Fine." I look at her hair and imagine gold and silver in it. Silver would stand out more against her warmer brown hair, but gold would pop out without being too loud, and if I know her, she'd want something more classy and subdued. "Gold."
The corners of her lips turn down, pondering my choice, but not frowning. "Interesting, but I like it." She pats my cheek, and my heart warms at her affection. "Good choice, babe. Now, I've gotta go pack." She moves out of my reach and runs down the hall.
"I thought you already packed," I call after her, looking back to where she disappeared while pouring my coffee.
"Not enough!"
She's so goofy. I love her.
-
It was finally Friday, and all my nerves were frying in excitement, and not just the good kind. I had to give Johnny a sedative before they wheeled him away to be taken down to cargo, and I wish I would have saved some for myself. I was a little on edge that he had to be flown in cargo, but I knew he'll be fine.
"You're sure this is okay?" Brooke asks frantically as we take our seats on the plane.
"I promise," I told her, but settling into the window seat, I wasn't so sure. "Too late to back out now anyway," I say lightly, earning a nervous g
I wasn't sure who I was trying to reassure more, Brooke or myself.
I shake my head and grab her hand, causing her to look at me. Our gazes lock onto each other, and I see her. She's scared and nervous. Scared they won't accept her, and nervous that they will.
"You are going to be okay," I promise, squeezing her hands. "I know you know that this is a big step. It is. It's huge, but that doesn't mean it should be scary. It's about time you met my family anyway, okay? I already told them that we're going to take the day to get comfortable at the B-and-B and settle in. The only one you're even meeting this weekend is Pop. You have nothing to worry about."
She draws in a raggedy breath, nodding, and I watch her visibly calm down.
"You're right. I'm just... " she fumbled, and my head bobbed up and down in a nod.
"And that's okay. We're in this together."
Brooke falls asleep soon after we take off, resting her head on my shoulder with one hand wrapped around my bicep and the other one in the clutches of my own.
I won't be able to fall asleep this go around, even though I know what I'm walking into this time. Sort of
I clutch onto Brooke's hand and rub it between my own mindlessly as my head runs through all of the possible scenarios that could take place over these next couple of weeks, good and bad. I did read, though, that the more you visualize and imagine the likely outcomes of a scenario, the more prepared you'll be should any of those possibilities occur. At the rate my mind is flying, I think I'll have everything covered.
I press my palm to hers, measuring and comparing them. Her hands are so dainty with long and lithe fingers. Mine are big and thicker with square palms and shorter fingers.
I hope she doesn't let go of my hand when all of this is said and done.
-
We finally touch down about three hours later, and I pack our things into the rental car, this time a Chevy Cruze instead of the Ford Escape I'd had before.
"It's so nice out," she comments, "You know, 50 degrees compared to our 30. How come you had me pack hoodies and stuff?"
I shake my head in amusement. Boston winters could be rough, and this would be the first time that Brooke's ever enjoyed the temperate weather of the south.
"It feels good when it's sunny and not windy, but 50 degrees is chilly when it's cloudy and windy," I explain, rounding the back door and making sure Johnny's okay. He only just came to a few minutes ago, and let me just say that lugging his ass through the airport was no walk in the park.
"Makes sense," I hear my fiancee mutter. I watch her pull her jean jacket closer around her.
"You ready to go?" I ask, opening the passenger door for her. She nods and passes me, running her hand down my arm as she goes.
I drive, mainly because I know the way to where we're going, and Brooke fiddles with the radio.
"Ew, why are there so many country stations? This is awful," she whines, deciding on some pop station after much searching.
"Yeah." I smirk knowingly. "Another hour down the road, and that's all there will be."
She rolls her eyes and sighs.
I tell her about my family and silly stories as we drive. When it's quiet between the two of us, she looks out the window and will gape out how "open" Georgia is.
"It's so green," she wonders. "It's a nice change of pace from Boston's skyscrapers."
I agree.
She's quiet for a few seconds too long, and when I glance at her, she's looking down at her hands that are fidgeting on her lap.
"You okay?" I ask her.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
I roll my eyes at her superficial response.
"Mmm I'm sure. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Colt. I'm fine. I'm just tired. Tell me more stories."
Her tone tells me she's not at all fine, but I don't want to push her. My eyes drift from the clear road to study her, trying to decipher if she's lying or not. I decide not to press her and nod.
"Let's see. I've told you about the Mason-Dixon River, about the time Tommy wore a pink bikini to school and when June got prank called about some uncle dying and inheriting millions of dollars," I think aloud, trying to find something else fun to tell her.
"Something that doesn't involve Josie," she murmurs, "Something just about you."
My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.
"Brooke," I start, and then soften my tone. "She was a huge part of my life. I wish you wouldn't compare yourself to her. She was my best friend growing up. Best friends do everything together. I wish I knew how to make you feel more comfortable. Is this why were acting differently earlier?"
She sighs and shakes her head.
"No, I just need to get over myself. I just hear about all of these hilarious and amazing stories involving her, and I just can't help but feel... left out. I'll never know you as she does. I'll never get to know who you were before... everything."
I blink and try to come up with some sort of response.
"You don't need to feel left out. You don't need to know me as she did. That guy was a jackass, and I don't ever want you to see me like that. I was a conceited and arrogant bastard. I mean, I loved my family and friends with all of my heart and obviously I still do, but it was how I protected myself from the world. And pretty soon, you'll get to meet the people who put up with me like that. Don't feel left out, Brooke, because you're the one that makes me tick, makes me come alive," I tell her, praying she believes me.
"I know, I just... I'll feel better after some rest, I promise. I won't bring this up again."
"Don't say that. You know you should and can come to me when you feel like this. We're getting married, Brooke. I'm your fiance. It's my job to be here for you when you feel like this," I insist.
Her silence is the only response I get, and I don't continue the conversation, instead switching tactics.
I force myself to relax as I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and allow my back to sink into my seat more.
"I was nine when I found out my mother had lung cancer," I breathe, "She loved life like she loved my father and me, and smoking, well, probably just as much."
"You don't have to... "
"But I do. You want a story from my past, without Josie, and this one... this one's special to me."
"Okay," she says quietly, and even though I can't see her eyes on me, I can feel the steady gaze of her brown orbs.
"My mother loved the 50s and 60s even though she was born at the tail end of the 60s and didn't get to grow up during that time. She loved the music, and she'd sing to herself when she did the dishes or would just clean in general. When my father caught her doing that, he would spin her around and dance with her. They'd just stop everything and dance while she sang. At the time, I thought it was gross, but I never stopped watching them. When her cancer got real bad, Dad had to start working more, and no one was home to dance with her when she sang. The songs started to get sadder and slower, and I came home one day—I was 11—and she was at the sink, cleaning the dishes and singing of course. I'll never forget what she was singing, 'Leaving On A Jet Plane,' by John Denver. I remember realizing that my days with her were numbered, and I knew that I needed to share any moment I had to spare with my mother.
"My father wasn't home to dance with her, so I walked up to her, grabbed her soapy hands, and spun her around. I think she was expecting my father because she turned around with a smile on her beautiful face, but when she saw me, she broke out into the widest grin I'd seen her wear in a long time, and it just... lifted me up. She changed songs and started to sing '18 Yellow Roses,' the one by Bobby Darin."
I pull into the bed and bath, put the car in park, and turned so I could face her head-on from my seat.
"I don't know if you've ever heard the song before, but it's about the love shared between a father and daughter and how he learns to let her go when her man claims her heart. My mother changed the lyrics so it could be about the love between a mother and son. The last lyric she sang was:
'I guess there's nothin' left for me to do.
But ask to meet the girl that's done this thing
And find out if she's got plans to buy you a ring
'Cause eighteen yellow roses will wilt and die one day
But a mother's love will never fade away.'
"That was our first and last spontaneous dance together because she was admitted to the hospital that night and died four months later. And I will never, ever, forget that for as long as I live. Never. Four people know about that day now, and you're one of them."
--
I teared up writing that last bit, just imagining the dance between an 11-year-old and his mother.
I felt like here was a good place to stop for now. The next chapter will have what you guys are waiting for.
Any thoughts?
I just want to say that literally Amanda is me. I love her.
I'm not unhappy with this chapter, but it's not my favorite. It's definitely a filler chapter. I was tempted to just skip straight to introductions, but writing is a marathon, not a sprint.
Anyway, comment and vote if you liked it. I love reading your thoughts and comments.
I hope you all are staying safe!
XX Blondie XX