Collins and Beckham stared at each other with radiant love and joy in their eyes.
“Blossom,” Beck said finally. “Blossom Alise Strong.”
“Alise after you, Mom.”
Tears ran down our mother’s face at the news. “Oh, I love it,” she cried while Bayliss gathered her in his arms.
Mrs. Strong’s eyes were wet, too. “You kept the Bs.”
Beck nodded, his own eyes tearing up. “We kept the Bs.”
“All the grandchildren have names that start with the letter B,” Mrs. Strong mused. “It’s like a little family tradition now.”
“It was already a family tradition,” Bright commented.
“Says the one who most likely will break the tradition,” Beckham taunted.
“You’re probably right. I’m saying, by the time I have kids, y’all will probably have taken all the good B names and I’ll be stuck with something like Bus Stop.”
Everybody laughed.
“You’re stupid,” Beckham told him.
We spent another hour or so hanging out at the hospital before we left to give Beck and Collins a little alone time to rest and to enjoy their new addition. At the house, Bright killed the engine before walking me up the porch steps and to the front door.
“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight, Bae-Bae.” He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “In case you haven’t heard it often enough, you’re dope as fuck.”
I was so busy swooning that I didn’t respond.
Chapter
Thirteen
Bailey
When it wastime for me to head back to Chicago, I basically brought all of Jackson Falls with me, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Strong, Perkins’s three girls, Collins, Beckham, and baby Blossom.
Perkins, Church, and I stayed at our mother’s house with her and Bayliss. Collins insisted that Bright stay at her house in the city. We arrived on Wednesday evening. Thursday morning the six of us, along with my daddy, arrived at the courthouse bright and early.
As we took seats on the hard, wooden benches, I spotted Xander walk into the courtroom with both his mother and his future wife.
“I’m surprised he came,” my mother commented.
“I’m not. You know how much Xander likes to control outcomes and narratives,” I replied.
“I can’t believe he brought old girl,” Perkins hissed. “She’s twenty months pregnant. I hope she doesn’t go into labor.”
Fuck her.Fuck him, too.
When the judge finally called us to the front, Xander didn’t waste any time opening his mouth. “Uh, judge. I know my wife filed for this divorce, but I never signed any paperwork, because I don’t want it.”
“What?” Rang out through the courtroom and I could only imagine that it was his pregnant fiancée asking the question. Either her or his mother. Because wtf?
“What?” The judge seconded. She looked down at the paperwork in front of her. “Mr. Eckhart, that is not how this works.”
The judge was a black woman with smooth hickory colored skin, a short hair cut, deep set brown eyes covered by glasses, a full nose, and a full mouth. She wore a serious expression and looked like she rarely smiled, let alone joked around.
“You had thirty days to respond to the filing. You chose not to do so. The ball is no longer in your court.” She gestured around. “It’s in my court. I will not allow you to hold this young lady hostage with inactivity. Now?—”
