Page 82 of Never Stop

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Brooke

When you’re getting married, you send out invitations with an RSVP card because you want to know who will be attending your wedding. One of those invitations was sent to my mother. It was an olive branch—a test. However, she didn’t RSVP, and I thought she wasn’t coming.

Until I saw her.

I was on cloud nine the moment I woke up on my wedding day. My girls and I had a late breakfast, Cheyenne included. Afterward, the make-up and hair stylists came to my suite in the hotel. They styled us, pretended to put foundation on Cheyenne, and then I dressed in my once in a lifetimeperfectwedding dress, the one that was backless with spaghetti straps and made out of lace and tulle that I never wanted to take off.

Cheyenne’s dress was teal because I wanted teal to play a factor in our day. When Easton and I shared our first kiss—that ended with me questioning everything—I was wearing a teal satin dress. Even though the kiss didn’t turn out as we’d both hoped, getting married on the anniversary of that night was almost like a new beginning.

It was the start of forever.

We took a few pictures as we got ready and then after all the finishing touches were on. Everything was going smoothly and as planned. I wasn’t stressed, and I wasn’t worried something would go wrong—like someone falling on the cake. I was ready. So fucking ready.

I chose to walk down the aisle to a song I’d heard on a whim. It reminded me of how I felt for Easton. I needed him. I needed his touch and the way he looked at me. The way he’d wake me up with a kiss when I would fall asleep on the couch watching TV. And all I saw when I looked into his handsome face was my future.

Everything was perfect.

Until I saw the woman who gave birth to me.

I was walking by myself, trying to contain my own happy tears. I was walking alone because I didn’t have a father to give me away. I wouldn’t know him even if he stood next to me as we waited for coffee at Starbucks. Sometimes I wondered if he knew about me. I’d probably never know.

As I walked in a slow pace, my focus was on Easton and how he looked in his tuxedo. I hadn’t seen him dressed up since the last night of our cruise, and it instantly sent a spark all the way to my core. Then that fire was doused, and I lost all train of thought because I sawmestanding to the side of where I was walking.

It wasn’t me, though. It was my mother. Even though I hadn’t seen her in some time, I knew I looked like her. We both had long brown hair, though hers was turning grey. We both had green eyes though hers viewed values different from me. And we were the same height. On the outside, we looked like mother and daughter.

On the inside, we were nothing alike.

I wanted to go up to her and ask her why she was here. Instead, I turned back to Easton and fell in love with him more. I expected for him to ask if I was all right because I’d stopped in the middle of the aisle. Not only did he ask if I was okay, but he reached for me and held my hands. His touch instantly calmed me. He didn’t let go until after I spoke my vow to him. Then he’d pulled me into his arms and squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Easton pulled back at the words the minister said and grabbed my face, kissing the ever-loving shit out of me. Clapping and cheers could be heard on the rooftop, but I drowned everything out except for the way it felt to officially be Mrs. Easton Crawford.

Avery cleared his throat causing Easton to pull away from me. We both smiled and then turned to face our family and friends. We walked down the white carpet, and I glanced at my mother as we passed. She was crying, a bright smile on her face. I’d never knew her to have any emotions other than greed and lust.

Easton leaned down and kissed my lips softly once we passed the final rows of chairs. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

I smiled up at him. “I’m perfect. How could I not—”

“I’m not talking about us, baby.”

As we were turning a corner into the building where we were going to meet the photographer for pictures, I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the Chiavari chairs that were decorated with teal ribbon around the backs where my mother stood. She smiled and I didn’t. Then a wall blocked my view, and I felt as though I was in the clear. At least for a little bit while the wedding party took pictures.

We stopped, and I leaned against the back of a high chair. I peered up at my husband. “She came,” I breathed.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around my neck. “She came,” he repeated.

I closed my eyes for a few moments as I gathered my thoughts. “I have to—”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s your day.”

I looked up into his azure eyes. “It’sourday. And yes, I have to speak with her. Even if it’s to tell her thank you for coming and nothing else.”

“I want you to do whatever you want to do. Not what you think you need to do. There’s a difference, babe. If you want to take pictures, eat, cut our cake, and then get shit faced as we dance on the dance floor, then that’s what we’ll do.”

I sighed. “There’s not even a place for her to sit.” There was a reason why you RSVP’d to a wedding. It was called a headcount, and we hadn’t accounted for her.