Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,66
words to leave my mouth.
The counter threatens to make her smile.
“Brooklyn’s my perfect board. She’s not afraid to weather the tougher waters with me…”
Proved that a few weeks ago when I couldn’t for the life of me seem to make time for us between the shop and the case I’m caught up in. She didn’t hold it against me or accuse me of giving up on our relationship. She picked up the slack. Spent her spare time helping out at Shoreside that was shorthanded due to two employees being booked for the same week for vacation. She volunteered shifts between her shifts and brought me meals on her breaks when she knew I hadn’t left my home office. Brooklyn was there every lap with unwavering support…She was like the perfect wave to carry me safely back to shore.
“She adds stability and peace and keeps the balance in my life.” A smile emerges all of its own accord. “I can’t imagine reaching out for another person to share my existence with. Hell, I don’t…want to imagine reaching out for someone else. Especially not when I can have her.”
Both women in the room awe at me while the men do their best not to smirk.
“You promise to protect her?” Fredrick firmly asks.
“At all costs. From the world and occasionally from herself.”
“She’s so hard on herself sometimes,” Kourtney quietly interjects.
“She is.” My nodding is slow. “But I promise to keep being gentle even when she’s not.”
“What if one of us says no?” Darius inquires with so much force I start to think for the first time it’s a possibility. “Then what?”
“Then I do whatever it takes, for however long it takes, to make it a yes.”
Humor does it’s best not to reach his eyes yet fails.
“Show us the ring,” Kora commands, tiny hands tapping together. “Now.”
“Mother…”
She rolls her eyes prior to grunting, “Please.”
“I uh…Well…I don’t have one.”
The four frown in tandem.
“I haven’t found the right one yet, but believe me. I’ve been hunting…”
At the shop.
At the stores near the shop.
I even went all the way downtown to one of the most expensive places I could find to search. They weren’t exactly keen on helping me – most likely because I had on Mickey Mouse boardshorts and a tank top according to Harrison – but that was their loss. Just because I don’t look like I’m swimming in cash doesn’t mean I’m not.
Between what the shop brings in, what my cases have brought in, what I’ve invested, and my practically untouched Trust Fund, I can more than afford to buy the woman of my dreams something nice.
“You need help,” Kora says in such a way it instills confusion.
“You asking or telling me?”
“Mmhm,” she replies while nodding.
Her response receives a hearty chuckle out of me.
She’s a quirky old woman. Makes me wish the little time I was able to connect with my grandmother would’ve been spent cooking or scrubbing shells instead of her consoling her still shattered heart from her husband abandoning her for a woman young enough to be her granddaughter.
“Mother,” Kourtney chastises again and turns her full attention back to me to clarify. “What my mother is trying to say-”
“You don’t speak for me,” she swiftly sasses.
“-is that if you need help, we’re here for you.”
“That’s what I said,” Kora grumps, slapping her own leg in outrage.
“That’s not what you said,” her daughter immediately argues.
“Fredrick, tell her that’s what I said!”
His frame leans a little forward as he questions, “You’re sure this is the family you want forever with?”
“Fredrick!”
“Father!”
More chuckles come out of me, and their squabbling swiftly resumes.
Quietly, Darius states, “You have our blessing, Ax. Just treat our little Brooky like the princess she forgets she is.”
“I’ll do my best to remind her that she’s a queen. My Amphitrite.”
An impressed smirk is flashed. “Goddess of the Sea.”
“She’ll never be anything less to me.”
“Mother!”
“Kourtney!”
“Why is my family yelling?” Brooklyn’s voice unexpectedly breaks through, surprising us all.
“You’re…you’re…you’re…off early,” I somehow manage to fumble out.
“Yeah, I sent you a text about it, and one about Fatima pushing drinks tomorrow to drinks on Saturday,” she casually retorts, although she doesn’t pause for more questions. “Why are you here so early, and why are they shouting?”
“They’re arguing over what sides to make with the BBQ,” her father steps into the conversation, saving me from having to lie. “You know how they get.”
“You know how you get,” Grandmother snarkily mocks. “Always wanting the potatoes in the potato salad to have the skins left on them.” She grunts her