Once in the living room, they saw Brystol lying on the floor, using Luke as a pillow as usual. If the dog cared that Bowie had entered the room, he wasn’t showing it. He had barely lifted his head. Brystol, on the other hand, made an effort to at least acknowledge them. She was watching a documentary on whales in the Pacific Ocean, and Brooklyn didn’t want to interrupt her. She needed these moments to still be a teen and not be consumed with pain over her grandmother. Brooklyn watched Bowie as he glanced at Brystol. He was looking at her as his daughter now, and not the child his best friend had never seen grow up.
Sensing it was a good time to let their daughter in on part of their secret, Brooklyn reached for Bowie, pushing her way under his arm as he kissed her forehead, and Brystol chanted, “Mom’s got a boyfriend.” She smiled and leaned up to kiss Bowie on the lips . . . an action she knew her daughter would never let her live down.
“What do you know about boyfriends?” Brooklyn asked.
Brystol shrugged. “All I know is that Nonnie and Simi think you’re perfect together.”
“How do you know this?”
She looked at Bowie. “Sometimes, after Nonnie has had too much wine, she talks very loudly.”
The three of them laughed. This was a good moment for them, even with the impending passing of their matriarch; they would be able to look back on this and say, “Remember that time Nonnie had too much wine . . .”
“Does this mean we’re staying, Mom?”
Brooklyn nodded and couldn’t hold back a smile as Brystol’s face lit up. She went to her mom and hugged her tightly. After she let go, she crouched down, lifted Luke’s snout, and said, “You’re stuck with me now.”
THIRTY-ONE
After Brystol stopped teasing Brooklyn about having a boyfriend, Brooklyn took Bowie upstairs to show him the paperwork she had found in Carly’s desk. In a sense, he was relieved. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brooklyn, but seeing the report that there was no possible way for Austin to be Brystol’s father was liberating. Still, he was plagued by the lingering voice in the back of his mind that said it was entirely possible Brooklyn could’ve been with someone else. As much as he refused to believe that was the case, he couldn’t discount the suspicion. He glanced from the report to Brooklyn. She smiled.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“You do?”
She moved toward him. She lifted the sheet of paper from his hand, revealing another page. “Don’t ask me how she had your DNA. Right now, I don’t want to think of what went on in this house when my daughter wasn’t here. I just know she did, and this report shows that you’re her father.”
A small smile turned into a huge grin, one that hurt his cheeks instantly. The pain was worth it, though. He was going to continue to smile like this until someone gave him a reason not to. This wasn’t a victory for him . . . he had lost out on so much time with his daughter and silently vowed to do whatever he could to make up for it. However, he felt vindicated because Rachel had destroyed him when she had walked out, blaming him for their inability to have a child. And yes, maybe he couldn’t anymore. Maybe something had happened to him in the last fifteen years that prevented him from getting the job done, but that didn’t matter to him because he had Brystol. And whether she wanted him as a father or not didn’t matter because he knew she liked him as long as Luke was around.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” Brooklyn put her hands up in the air and tried to smile, but tears started pouring out. Bowie dropped the paperwork on the desk and pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his shirt. He held her tightly, wrapping his strong arms around her. He wanted to take away her guilt but was at a loss of how to do that. He too had the same feeling. He was sorry as well—sorry that they had missed so much time as a family—however, that wouldn’t be the case moving forward.
He leaned back so he could look at her, lifting her chin so they were eye to eye. God, he loved her so much he thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “No more, B. No more tears for what we can’t change. Just happy thoughts.”
Brooklyn choked out a bit of laughter. “You sound like Peter Pan.”
“Sometimes I wish I had a little bit of magic on my side, but for right now I’m going to relish the moment, and you need to as well.”