Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,207

Ma pauses and offers Bristol a tentative smile. “Why don’t you come over a little early on Sunday, and I’ll show you how I make them?”

Bristol’s mouth drops open a little, and she blinks several times. I elbow her on the sly.

“Um, yeah. Yes. I mean, that would be awesome.” Bristol’s mouth stretches to its maximum smile capacity. “I’d like that very much.”

Ma nods, her smile not as wide but sincere all the same. She turns her eyes to me, and they water. Even when we’ve spoken recently, this has stood between us. Her inability to accept that I plan to spend the rest of my life with someone she saw as wrong for me and perceived as an insult to the sacrifices she made for me.

“I’ve missed seeing you on Sundays, Marlon.” She offers the words like an olive branch.

“I’ll be there this week.” I reach down and pull her small frame close. “We’ll be there this week. I wouldn’t miss you teaching Bristol to cook collard greens for the world.”

She laughs against my chest, but her arms tighten around me, and I know she’s missed our easy closeness as much as I have. She pulls back, sniffing, but still linking one arm around my waist.

“Bristol, I owe you an apology.” Ma never has been one for wasted time and bullshit, so I shouldn’t be surprised that she dives right in. “What Marlon said tonight is true. I’ve treated you like a ‘they’. I don’t anticipate my son giving you up anytime soon, so it’s time we fixed that. Time we get to know each other.”

Bristol blinks several times, her eyes filling.

“I used to pray that God would send my son a fighter like me,” Ma continues. “A woman like me. I thought she would have to look like me, but that isn’t true. When I saw what you would do for my son, I knew God had answered my prayers in you. I’m just a stubborn old woman.”

Ma laughs, characteristic sassiness lighting her face.

“Not that old now.” She rests a fist on her hip. “Don’t get it twisted. Mama still got it.”

Only my mother would manage to make even this moment funny.

“But I was nearsighted about you.” Ma’s laugh fades, but the smile still crinkles the corners of her eyes. “I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“Yes, of course,” Bristol says softly. “Thank you very much.”

“No, thank you.” Ma reaches up to kiss my cheek, patting my back before she pulls away. “Come on, Jade. Let’s check on your mama and brother. I’ll see you both on Sunday. Don’t be late.”

She takes a few steps before looking back over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can bring my car, too.”

We stand there for a second after she’s gone, both quiet. An airy laugh from Bristol breaks our silence.

“Did she really say grandbabies?”

I turn her into me, linking my fingers through hers and pressing our temples together so I can whisper in her ear.

“You have a problem with grandbabies? Beautiful, café au lait grandbabies?”

Bristol pulls back, one brow lifted.

“Did you just refer to my future children in terms of beverages? Coffee? Milk? I don’t think so.”

“Babe, that’s what they call kids who—”

“I don’t care what ‘they’ call them.” She links her arms around my neck. “Aren’t you the one who said no more they?”

That takes my mind back to the performance tonight.

“You think people heard what I was saying?” I don’t often show uncertainty when it comes to my music, to my writing, but I can show Bristol every part of me. Even the parts that aren’t sure. “I felt like I was performing on eggshells sometimes. Like they expected me to offend them.”

“Think about the first time we talked at Mick’s that day.” Her smile grows reminiscent. “I asked you about people using the N- word.”

“Ah, yes, your Twitter,” I say, referring to her analogy of things she didn’t understand, but made them work.

“Why do you think that conversation worked?” she asks. “Because you had a great rack, and I wanted to impress you?”

“Um . . . try again.” She shakes her head and laughs up at me. “We wanted it to. We gave each other the benefit of the doubt. We wanted to understand. That’s what ‘Bruise’ says. Walking in each other’s shoes. Seeking to understand so we can change things. They couldn’t have missed that.”

“I’m the writer, but it seems like you always know what to say to me,” I tell her softly.

“Is that so?” She