Every Way (Brush of Love 4)

“Bryan? Is that you?”

My mother looked up from the book she was reading as my father poked his head out of his studio.

“Son! What brings you around? Is Hailey with you?” my father asked.

“I have missed you so much,” my mother said.

She got up to give me a hug, but I didn’t return the favor. She wrapped her arms around me and patted my back, but all I did was cast a glare at my father. He stood in the corner with his brow furrowed, wondering what in the world had brought me here.

But he was about the find out the exact type of woman my mother had allowed herself to turn into.

“I am so glad you finally came to your senses,” my mother said. “Are you all right?”

“Bryan? Where’s Hailey?” my father asked.

“She’s fine. She’s at home cooking some dinner. I don’t have much time. I only came to talk,” I said.

“She’s at home? Well, she could’ve come here and had some dinner. I’m sure whatever our chef’s cooking would’ve been much better for you,” my mother said.

“I know you think I’m here to apologize, but I’m not,” I said.

“Oh?” my mother asked. “Then why in the world did you just barrel through our front door?”

“Have you been in contact with Laura Green?”

“Laura Green? That little girl you dated in high school?” my father asked.

“She was the one with the blond hair, right?” my mother asked.

“Don’t play that game, Mom. You’ve never been good at it,” I said.

“I don’t know what you mean,?

? she said.

I watched her keep a stoic face, but it was her hands that always gave her away. She had this tick whenever she was lying through her teeth. She could look you in the eye, but she couldn’t keep from picking at her nail beds. She spent hundreds of dollars a month on manicures trying to get her hands to not look like the battleground they were, and my eyes quickly dropped to see what they were doing.

She was picking at them relentlessly, and my eyes slowly panned over to my father.

“Dorothy. What have you done?” my father asked.

“I haven’t done a thing,” my mother said.

“Your fingertips say differently,” I said. “Now, you can admit it, or I’ll admit it for you. But if I have to admit it, you’re done.”

“What in the world does that mean?” she asked.

“With our life. With Hailey’s and my life. With your future grandchild’s life. You’re done,” I said.

“Now Bryan, hold on a second. Maybe your mother hasn’t done whatever it is you’re accusing her of,” my father said.

“It’s noble, you standing up for your wife. I get it. I’ve done it time and time again with you and Hailey. But at some point in time, Mom has to accept the consequences of her actions. And even though I defend Hailey, I never stand in the way of her learning a lesson no matter how hard that lesson is. Because she’s an adult. Just like Mom,” I said.

“I am nothing like Hailey,” my mother said.

“No, you’re not. Because Hailey is beautiful and full of life, compassionate and unreserved. She loves with everything she has, and she always forgives no matter what. She’s artistic and fluid. Spontaneous and happy. You’re right, Mother. You’re none of those things.”

I held my gaze with my mother as I tried to keep my voice under control. Her eyes were dancing along my face as my father scooted behind her. I had to give it to him. He was a strong man standing behind a woman like that. But in some ways, I felt sorry for him that he was stuck with a shell of a woman who was unwilling to admit how far she had fallen from grace. It had been a grace she once possessed when John and I were still little.