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 Christmases. 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 done forever. 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 the 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.
The taxi dropped Brooke and me off in front of the departure terminal, and we entered to look for Cheyenne and my parents. They were waiting near the line of the check-in counter of the airlines Chey was flying.
“Hey, Peanut.” I wrapped my arms around my little girl. “You ready to get on a plane by yourself?”
Chey tsked. “Yeah! I’m eleven you know?”
I chuckled. “Yes, I know. I’m just not sure I’m ready for you to leave me.”
That was the truth on so many levels. My little girl was growing up extremely fast. It seemed like just yesterday Dana showed me the white stick with a plus sign. Now, my girl was leaving on a plane that was bound for almost three thousand miles away. Hell, I’d be farther away than that once Brooke and I touched down at our destination.
“She’ll be fine,” Brooke ensured as she wrapped her arm around my waist.
“Did you two have a nice night?” my mother asked.
I smiled and looked down at my wife then back up at my mother. “Yeah, we were hungry when we got to the room, so we ordered Chinese and ate it in bed. Best way to finish the best night of my life.”
I caught the eye of my dad, and he smirked, knowing exactly what Brooke and I had done when we got to the hotel. We eventually ended up ordering Chinese food and eating in bed. We just—you know, did something a few times first.
“Chey is all checked in. You three need to head over to—”
I cut my mother off so she didn’t spoil the surprise. “Right. Thanks for bringing Peanut and our bags. We’ll see you in a week.”
We hugged, and my parents said goodbye to Cheyenne. I’m not sure if they’d had a week alone since we moved to New York. When Cheyenne would be in Long Beach, I would still have breakfast or dinner at my folk’s house. This was going to be different for everyone. They would have an empty house, I was letting my little girl get on a plane by herself, and Brooke was about to go on her first honeymoon.
“Where are we going now?” Cheyenne asked.
“Yeah, where are we going?” Brooke grinned at me.
“Just over here.” I pointed in the direction and began walking. Thankfully, I’d researched the departure terminals and was able to get Cheyenne’s domestic flight and our international flight in the same terminal. I dug into the carry-on bag my dad handed me when we first saw them and pulled out Brooke’s passport. “Here, you’ll need this.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “We’re not staying in the U.S.?”
I smiled. “Nope.”
“Are you going to tell me now?” she inquired.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer to me, and kissed the top of her head. “You’ll figure it out in a few minutes when we get to our check-in counter.”
She groaned.
“Why are you keeping it a secret?” Cheyenne asked.
“Because, Peanut, it’s the little things in life that make someone happy. I want to see Brooke’s face light up when she sees where I’m taking her.”
Cheyenne shrugged. One day she’d understand.
When we got in the vicinity of our airlines, I stopped walking. “Ready?”
My wife looked up at me and smiled. “Dying here, babe.”
I kissed her briefly. Cheyenne made a gagging noise, and I smiled as I pointed to the ticket counter not far from us. “That one.” I began walking again in the direction of the line of people.
“We’re … we’re going to France?”
Looking directly into her eyes as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, I said, “Paris to be exact.”
She pulled back, looked at the counter and then back at me. “Shut up!”
We walked to the line of people. “Just think. In about twelve or so hours we’ll be in a country where we know none of the language.”
“I don’t even know what to say. Except thank you.”
I kissed her again and moved up in line. “Anything for my wife.”
We checked in our bags, made it through security, and walked Cheyenne to her gate. The closer we got, the more my heart pounded in my chest. It wasn’t even the fact that I’d be thousands of miles from my baby girl or that she was getting on a plane by herself. I hadn’t been without her since the cruise last year.
The fact was I was going to miss her.
“Now, Peanut, Brooke and I are going
to be many hours ahead of you, but we’ll try to Facetime you as much as we can. Okay?”
“Okay.” She was staring at the gate where a flight attendant stood. “Is it time for me to go yet?”
“Almost. Let’s take a seat and wait for the boarding announcement.”
The minutes ticked by as Cheyenne played on her phone and Brooke read on her tablet. I wasn’t doing anything except staring out the window, my knee bouncing up and down as nerves raced through my body.
“She’s gonna be fine,” Brooke said, placing her hand on my knee and calming it.
“I know,” I breathed. I did know. I was certain of it. Still didn’t mean I was ready for it.
“It’s time!” Chey exclaimed as the boarding announcement sounded.
I swallowed—hard.
Brooke wrapped her arm around her. “You’re gonna have so much fun.”
“I can’t wait to tell my mom how softball season went and that I’m playing again this year.”
Brooke looked up at me, a look of question on her face. I’d never told her how Cheyenne visited Dana’s grave every time she went to see her grandparents.
“She already knows. She’s looking down on you every day.”
Cheyenne looked to Brooke and then to me. “Should I … tell her you said hi?”
“Yeah, Peanut. Tell her for me.”
Cheyenne smiled, and I handed the agent the unaccompanied minor forms I had to fill out. She checked it over and then said, “All right, you ready?” She was talking to Cheyenne.
“Yes!”
I grabbed Cheyenne and wrapped my arms around her. “We’ll be in the air still when you land, but as soon as you’re with Grandma and Grandpa, you call me and leave me a message, okay?”
She nodded and pulled back. Brooke hugged her and then the attendant grabbed her hand.
“Bye, Peanut. I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
“I love you.” Brooke waved.
“Love you too.”
And then, she was gone.
“Do we have time to get you a drink?” Brooke smiled.
I looked at the time on my phone. “Nope. We gotta run.”
As we waited in line to board, I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “How do you feel about the Mile High Club?”
Over eight hours later, our Uber driver pulled in front of our hotel. It was a challenge telling him where to go. He didn’t speak English, and we didn’t speak French. Finally, I pulled the hotel confirmation out and pointed to the name of the hotel. It worked.
Brooke took in the scenery as we drove and I admired her. She was glowing. Even though she’d mentioned going on another cruise or going to Hawaii, I knew I’d made the right decision. Paris was possibly a once in a lifetime trip.
Cheyenne had left a voicemail message that she made it to Long Beach, and flying alone was awesome. I relaxed knowing she was safe, but I didn’t like the tone in her voice that came across as though she couldn’t wait to fly alone all the time. My baby girl was growing up, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“I can’t believe the Eiffel Tower is right there.” Brooke pointed at the large wrought iron lattice tower.
“I chose this hotel for that reason.” We started to walk to the entrance of the hotel, Brooke glancing at the Eiffel Tower as we did. I totally made the right decision.
The automated doors of the hotel opened, and we stepped up to the front desk. “Bonjour monsieur,” the brunette said.
Being in France might be more difficult than I’d anticipated. “Ahh, do you speak English?” I rubbed the back of my neck as I spoke.
The girl smiled. “I do.”
My body instantly relaxed. “We’re checking in.” After we got our room keys, Brooke and I wheeled our luggage to the elevator. “Last time we were going up in an elevator, I pictured stripping you of your white dress.”
Brooke grinned, hooked her arm in mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for getting you naked?” I laughed.
“No. Thank you for making me your wife and all this.” She waved her hand around the tight space. “I’m not sure how we can afford it, but thank you.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I hesitated as we walked toward the number for our room. “The night of our bachelor and bachelorette parties, Avery, Gary and I entered a billiards tournament.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Well, it was more like a scam, but I ended up winning.”
She stopped walking. “You did what?”
My eyes widened as I realized she thought I put on the scam. “No, Brooke, these people were trying to scam us,” I corrected.
I watched her body relax. “Seriously?”
I smiled. “Yeah, but I totally kicked ass.”
We started walking again. “Didn’t know you knew how to play pool,” she said.
I shrugged. “Used to be how I made beer money.”
We stopped in front of our door, and I slid the key card from the packet and into the slot of the electronic opener.
“Maybe you can teach me sometime?”
I smiled, thinking about bending her over the table and fucking her.
We walked into the room, barely getting two feet before I realized it was tiny. So small, I wasn’t sure where we were going to put our two suitcases. “We’re paying a shitload a night for this?” I looked around, seeing the tiny seventeen or so inch TV on the wall, a queen-sized bed that looked like a Murphy bed, no end tables, and a loveseat that only half my body would fit laying down.
“I heard all European hotels are like this.”
“What?” My eyebrows furrowed.
“Usually they have two twin beds instead of a queen.”
I shook my head and chuckled. “We should have gotten two twins. It would have reminded me of the cruise.”
“Want to change rooms?” Brooke smirked.
“Only if you want to. I’m happy with whatever you want to do.”
“Well, it does have a view of the Eiffel Tower.” She pointed to the mural behind the bed.
I laughed. “Now we can tell people we fucked in front of it.”
She chuckled and went to inspect the bathroom. “Well, this is different.”
I went to see what she was talking about. “Where’s the shower head?”
Brooke pointed to a handheld thing by the on tap. “I think that’s it.”
“Crazy. So, so crazy. I’m sorry.”
Brooke wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned her head on my chest. “Don’t be sorry. This is all new for both of us. I’m also pretty sure this is normal unless you get a room at some high-end hotel. We’re only going to sleep here.”
“Well, not just sleep.”
She pushed off of me. “You’re silly. What do you want to do first?”
“You should know what I want to do first.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “I need more sleep before I can do that. And food.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Let’s go eat. Then we can come back here, I’ll eat you, and we can call it a night.”
“I can totally live with that.”
Easton threw open the door, turned back and picked me up from the hallway. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist as our mouths fused together and we entered the small hotel room. Being in The City of Love was turning out to be true. We loved a lot.
My back hit the wall, and the door slammed shut as we began stripping each other of our clothes. Easton started to unbutton my jeans, his hand slipping inside my panties. His finger brushed over my clit and slipped inside me. I sucked in a breath as our lips broke free.
“I need you,” I moaned as he nuzzled my neck.
Kissing …
Licking …
Tasting …
“You have me,” he murmured against my skin.
“No. Inside.”
Easton picked me up. “I have an idea,” he groaned.
We moved into the shower, my back pressing against the cold surface and he reached with his free hand to turn on the water. It sprayed out, hitting my legs that were still wrapped around his waist. After the water had warmed up, he reached over and grabbed the handle, aiming it directly at my pussy. Warm water shot up, hitting my clit, and I moaned.
My hands went into Easton’s hair, our moans of pleasure echoing in the glass cube. “Please?” I begged.
“Yeah, fuck this creative shit.”
He put the showerhead back and without another word, he slid into me.
No more touching.
No more groping.
No more teasing.
My back arched as he rocked his hips up, my hands around his shoulders as I held on. The water was still spraying against us, but I was so lost in the pleasure that nothing was registering except him and me.
“Fuck,” he groaned against my neck. “This might be the only thing this shower is good for.”
I chuckled through my building pleasure. All week he’d complained that using the handheld showerhead to bathe was like showering with a garden hose.
Easton grabbed my hands from around his neck and raised them above my head. Our fingers locked together as he rocked up—hard. My back slid against the white fiber glass with each thrust.
“I’m close,” I panted.
With one hand, he found my clit and rubbed. That was my undoing. My body convulsed as I climaxed around him. A few more pumps and he followed me over the edge. After our breathing had returned to normal, we washed each other with the shower head.
The second best thing about the French style shower.
Paris was amazing. My entire week was amazing.
I married the love of my life, had pastries in Paris, and saw the Eiffel Tower every day. It was a dream. I was literally living in a dream.
One day we walked to Pont des Arts. At one time it was known as the romantic bridge that was lined with padlocks. Couples would write their names and date on a lock, then secure it along the chain linked fence and throw the key in the Serine. It would symbolize unbreakable love. Except today there were no padlocks. There was a fence made of Plexiglas, and weird ass sculptures in the center of the bridge the entire way down.
The Halo Series Boxed Set Page 67
