And as if on cue, Brooke is enfolded in another hug.
“Mom,” I say before she can embarrass me. Yes, me, a grown-ass man can still be embarrassed by his mother.
Wren laughs as Mom shrugs, gives us ayikeslook, and then waves as she walks away to chat with other guests.
“I want you to meet my friends,” Wren says and grabs Brooke’s hand.
“Hey, what about me?” I ask, faking offense.
“Later,” Wren says over her shoulder as she pulls Brooke along.
Grace moves to stand by Brooke at the table, and by the laughter and chitchat that quickly follows, I’d say they are all hitting it off very well.
“Dad’s not here,” Gavin points out, planting his feet next to me.
Layla walks right by us to join the rest of the girls.
I nod, taking my drink from the waiter who approaches us. Being a part of a place like this has its perks. One, they know my drink of choice, and two, it’s a family function and they know to bring it to me before I even make it to the bar to order.
Mom is just sitting over there, smiling and engaging in conversation with my aunt as if she's not fazed by a single thing.
As if her life is flawless.
I know she knows, and I know she knows that I know. We’ve never spoken about it, but after the flower show incident as a kid, Mom defended me when Henry tried to ground me. Sure, I probably still deserved it, but after he picked me up at the station, we argued on the way to the front door. Mom was waiting in the kitchen for us, and Henry was going on and on about how my retribution for not agreeing with his choices is unacceptable. We both froze when we saw Mom, and when she looked at me, I knew she was aware of what Henry was doing.
I was both mad and sad for her. Mad that she wasn’t doing anything about it, and sad because she deserves so much better.
Now that I’m older, it feels weird to bring it up. I fully believe she never left him because they had the four of us. She put giving us a good life over herself. I know she did.
I just don’t understand why, now that we are all grown, she’s still here.
Mom catches my eye across the patio and smiles sweetly.
God, I hate Henry so much.
“Well, he’s a prick. What did we expect?” I finally say.
“For him to show up for his daughter's birthday.”
“Are you really surprised?” I ask, tilting my head and staring at my brother with raised brows.
“I just don’t understand him lately.”
“Lately?” I huff a laugh. “Try ever.”
“What are you two grumping about over here?” Grace asks, joining the half circle we have formed.
“Henry and how he sucks,” I say, giving her the short version.
She groans. “Dutton, you have got to tone it down when it comes to Dad. Not everyone hates him like you do. It honestly makes me sad for you, that you can’t just drop this thing you two have going on.”
The truth is on the tip of my tongue.
Tell them.
Do it.
They need to know.
