As soon as they reached the kitchen, Brooke started the coffee while Ridge got the mugs, spoons, milk, and sugar out.

"So what brought you over here today?"

"Creative block?"

"Where are Taylor and the kids to help with that?"

"The kids are out of school for some teachers' conference so they're visiting their Grandpa and Uncle in San Luis Obispo."

"And you didn't go—"

"Work," he said with a knowing smile.

"Ah, the joys of in-laws living close, but not too close," she returned.

"Exactly."

The timer on the coffee pot went off and Brooke poured them a mugful of nice, steaming, hot coffee. They drank their coffee in the tranquil, silence of the kitchen.

"So what's the real reason, you came over?" she asked.

"The words I spoke at the funeral were true. I can't remember the last real conversations I had with either Ric or Budge," he told her as he fiddled with his mug. "Kids that taught me about fatherhood, that I would leave work early to spend time with. Now as adults, I can't remember the last meaningful thing I said to two people who once rivaled the love I had for you."

Taking a deep breath and keeping her face clear of her thoughts; she let him continue with his revelations.

"I'm seeing a therapist, well actually a psychiatrist."

Upon hearing that, Brooke's head popped up and she stared at the man across the counter from her. Who was this man? And where was the real Ridge Forrester?

Ridge looked up and returned her stare. "Go ahead and ask."

"Who? What? How? Please tell me you aren't seeing Taylor or Pierce," she couldn't even believe this.

"Don't even joke about Pierce," he scowled. "I'm seeing a Dr. Marlena Evans. James recommended her. She has a practice outside of LA and she's never met Taylor so I feel like I have a clean slate. Three times a week, she's helping me deal with my guilt and helping me face facts."

Three times a week, she mouthed.

"Yes, three times," he repeated. "This all started one day when I was feeling a little frustrated. So I took a walk around the building and ended up at the day care, by the way a great idea."

Brooke nodded.

"I stood at the window, watching the kids playing, then my eyes were drawn to the back of the room and there sat Little Eric quietly playing by himself with a truck. I thought, 'There's my grandson.' Then I corrected myself and said, 'No, he could have been my grandson,' but I knew in my heart and subconscious that I was right the first time."

Ridge looked up and looked her dead in the eyes. "And that was the spark that started it all. From that day on from 3:15 to 3:45, I could be found in the daycare."

Try as she might, she couldn't keep the shock and amazement out of her face and eyes.

"I noticed today how Hope would look to you or Little Eric before she came to me or accepted anything from me. And it hurt. I hate the man who is her father. I hate that he took advantage of you when you were down," the fire in Ridge's eyes was blazing as he spoke.

"But he—"

Ridge held up his hand to stop her from continuing. "I know you were in a bad place because of me, but that still didn't give him a right to take advantage of you."

Once again, she wondered who this man was. Taking blame for something was not a Ridge Forrester thing. She wondered if Dr. Marlena Evans dabbled in magic.

"But we're family and I want Hope to look at me, the same way Little Eric does," he finished finally.

She could no longer hold her tongue. "What does Taylor and your mom think of this?"

Sipping his cool coffee, Ridge took his time answering her. "They don't know."

"Ridge," Brooke pleaded. "I don't want to know anything your wife and mother don't know."

Ridge nodded. "I told you first because I went to therapy because of the guilt I felt and feel about my relationship or rather lack of relationship I had with Ric and Bridget. For all intents and purposes, I went to a memorial service of two strangers. That won't happen with Little Eric and Hope. And don't worry; I'm going to tell Doc as soon as she gets back. I just thought you should be the first to know because—" Tears flowed down his cheek.

Brooke took her hand and wiped his tears. She walked over to him and laid her forehead against his. "I know."

And she did. They were two parents dealing with the guilt, the things left unsaid, the things they wish they could undo to their deceased children.

"You better go," she whispered.

"Tomorrow the beach," he said, walking to the front door.

"Ridge," Brooke cried. "I have to get work done."

Ridge paused at the door and turned to her, "Logan, don't be a spoiled sport. Be ready with food at 11AM." He quickly closed the door without her getting another word in.

Shaking her head and grinning, Brooke locked the door. She went back into the kitchen, poured out the coffee, and put the mugs and coffee pot in the sink. She turned off the lights and headed up the stairs.

What a strange day this had been. She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around everything that Ridge revealed and her feelings about it all.

She opened her patio doors and waved to Ridge. He flashed his lights twice and drove off. She watched him until she could no longer see his taillights. Ridge Forrester had become an enigma, a stranger to her. Maybe you could teach an old dog new tricks, she mused. Ruffling turned her attention back inside her room, she stepped inside and saw Little Eric turn and reach out for her, whimpering in his sleep.

Locking the patio doors, Brooke ran into the bathroom and changed into her pajamas, an old shirt of Ric's and a pair of Budge's pajama pants. She crawled into her California king bed from the bottom and slid in between her two sleeping angels. Finding her in bed next to him, Little Eric attached himself to her side. She kissed his forehead and whispered, "I love you," and turned and did the same to Hope. Hope then snuggled into her other side. Brooke sighed contented. She was right where she should be, where she belonged.