They had been there before.
It had been he who had stood in her shoes, listening to her ask how she could help him.
"What do you need?" she had asked. "Therapy? Counseling? We could go to couples' counseling. Maggie suggested it. It worked for her and Graham. How about a support group? I could go with you to NA. We could find you an NA group. Rehab? I'll drive you to rehab, get you checked in if that's where you want to go. Whatever you need, babes, whatever will help you, I will do."
"I don't want your help," he had said. "I'm not your charity case."
"That's what you think this is?" she had asked. "That's what you think you are to me? A charity case?"
"Brenda, you look at me and see someone you can fix," he had said. "From the day we met, you've been trying to fix me. Since I came to London, seeking solace, you've been looking for ways to fix me. What if I don't want to be fixed?"
He hadn't meant it. The cocaine, Rosenbach's threat hanging over; it had spewed out words he would not have considered otherwise.
Words he had to say, if it meant driving her into safety.
Words it killed him to say.
"I try to fix you?" she had asked. "Is that what this relationship has been to you, Dylan? Me thinking you're so screwed up that I need to fix you?"
"Maybe," he had said. "Maybe that's exactly what this is to you, Bren."
For as long as he would live, he had told himself, he would not forget the look on her face when she had spoken her next words.
"If you believe that, then maybe we shouldn't have one at all," she had said.
"Oh, is that a threat?" he had snarked.
"It's a wish," she had said. "A wish that I had never let myself fall in love with you and a promise that I never will again."
Fuck Rosenbach, Dylan had thought.
He tried to walk back his words before he lost the woman who had kept him alive during his time on K2 simply by telling himself he had to get home to her.
He had lived, when so many of the men he had trekked with had not.
"Brenda, I –"
"You're free, Dylan," she had said. "Go be someone else's charity case. I'm done. I'm done caring about someone who thinks so little of himself that he thinks all I want to do is fix him."
You're free, Dylan. Go be someone else's charity case.
The words had reverberated in his head as he had stood on the doorstep of Casa Walsh one fateful Thanksgiving night after that painful flight to LAX.
Fine, he had decided, I'll be Kelly's charity case.
"How's Brenda?" Donna had asked.
"Why don't you call her and ask her?" he had said.
Ask her who she's fucking now, he had mentally finished. Ask her, Donna, because I'd really like to know.
"That was about...two years ago. Right after I left Brenda," he had said, standing alongside the beach as he had stared out into the horizon, thinking about how he stood on the wrong coast to glimpse Brenda's ocean.
"You and Brenda have been apart for two years?" Kelly had asked disbelievingly.
"Something like that," he had said.
That's what it feels like, he had thought. It feels like two years.
He had told Kelly what she wanted to hear, knowing she would gobble it up when he told her he had returned to Los Angeles because he had missed her.
He had missed his friends.
He continued to miss his friends because the ones he most desired the presence of were nowhere around.
Neither twin would speak to him.
Brenda had probably told her brother about the way things had ended.
He wouldn't be surprised if Brandon would choose to cut off any remaining communication they had between them.
Her words had followed him, consuming him in their polar grip.
They followed him into Mexico. Followed him until he was strung-out on a beach. Passed out on a pool chair. During a game of Battleship.
They followed him the entire time he chased after Kelly.
They followed him as he attempted to be a boyfriend to Gina.
Knowing he couldn't be a boyfriend to Gina or Kelly, not the boyfriend they needed when Brenda's words followed him daily.
Go be someone else's charity case.
I did that, Dylan had told himself. I made Brenda give me up.
He had heard Silver talking to Donna in the hospital.
"I called the twins," David had said. "Left them both a voicemail telling them Dylan had gotten into trouble."
"And?" Donna had asked.
"I don't know what happened between Dylan and Brenda, but it must've been something pretty awful because neither of them have called me back," said David.
"Should we tell Dylan?" asked Donna.
"Kelly says he left Brenda two years ago," said David.
"That's logically impossible," said Donna.
"If that's the story he's decided to tell her, then he must not want to talk about what happened in London."
"So we aren't going to even ask him? What are we supposed to do, David? Pretend like he wasn't with Bren this whole time?"
"If that's what it takes to help him through this recovery? Yeah, Donna, we will."
"And what, are we all supposed to act like we haven't been supporting Kelly with Brandon? Are we supposed to act like Kelly getting back with Dylan isn't the worst idea for both of them?"
"Do you see Brandon around?"
"I don't see Brenda around, either, but you can't tell me she isn't on Dylan's mind."
"We'll go along with whatever he wants us to go along with," David had said, "because I, for one, do not want to see Dylan wind up here again."
"Neither do I," said Donna.
"Then we'll pretend?"
"Yeah. We'll pretend."
They had all pretended.
Steve must have pretended the most, as he had gone from accepting the position of Best Man in Brandon's wedding to Kelly to offering Dylan the role of godfather to Kelly's godchild.
Go be someone else's charity case.
He had. He had become the charity case of his friends.
The friends, who went along with his lies, falsely believing it would support his sobriety.
The friends who had wanted to fix Dylan as much as he had accused Brenda of doing.
Isn't that what I'm trying to do now? Dylan asked himself. Fix Bren?
You aren't trying to fix her, he answered his own question. You're trying to help her.
She tried to help me and I accused her of trying to fix me.
You did that because of Rosenbach.
Did I, though?
You're trying to help your wife. You're doing for Bren exactly what she would do for you. You aren't trying to fix her.
She doesn't need to be fixed. That would imply she's broken. Bren isn't broken. She's just…
Different.
Of course she's different, you dingbat.
His writer's block had become irksome.
Dylan worked out the kinks in his neck, fussing over his unfinished draft.
"Let me do that," he heard as her hands replaced his in massaging his neck.
"Fuck," he said, "that feels good."
"Just good?" she asked.
"Divine," he said. "My wife is a master masseuse."
"That's a bit over-the-top," she said. "You want to know something?" she whispered.
"What?" he whispered back, conspiratorially in their own little secret.
"My hormones are fucking raging," said Brenda.
"I could have told you that," Dylan smirked.
"They could use a little…satisfaction," said Brenda.
"Can we?" asked Dylan.
"Why wouldn't we be able to?" asked Brenda.
"Because…because of the twins," he said.
"We made love when I was carrying the girls."
"You carried one at a time. This is two. Double the chance of hurting one of them."
"You aren't going to hurt one of them." Brenda leant back against the desk. "I have an itch that needs scratched and not a soul willing to scratch it," she announced with the finesse of a heroine in a classic play.
"I'll scratch it," said Dylan, towering over her.
He threw her clothes off, one-by-one.
"Fuck, Bren, how many layers have you got on?" he asked.
"It's for protection," she said.
"It's a little late for protection, isn't it?" he asked.
"There's other reasons for protection."
"I can protect you," said Dylan. "I can protect you from anything."
"You can't protect me from this."
"Can't protect you from what?" Dylan grew more frustrated as Brenda's amount of layers increased, rather than decreased. "Don't you want to be with me, Bren?"
"I need help, Dylan," said Brenda. "Help you can't give me."
"Help for what?" he asked.
"I'm in –"
"Danger," finished the intruder for Brenda.
"Toni?" asked Dylan. "No, no, no. Toni, you can't be here."
"Toni?" asked Brenda.
"I come with a warning, Dylan," said Toni.
"You always come with warnings," said Dylan. "I don't want to hear it."
"You are still in love with Toni!" Brenda pushed Dylan away. "I told you so! I'm competing with a ghost!"
"You're not!" Dylan shouted. "Brenda, you're not!"
"Dylan, you have to listen to me!" said Toni.
"Toni, I'm trying to save my marriage," said Dylan, "and your presence isn't helping."
"There isn't a marriage to save," said Brenda.
"There is so a marriage to – Brenda! Get back here!"
"Brenda is in danger, Dylan," said Toni. "Grave danger."
"She was in danger in jail," said Dylan. "She's safe now. I'll keep her safe."
"A plot abounds," said Toni.
"The plot was giving my wife life in jail," said Dylan. "She's out. The plot is over."
"That's what they want you to think."
"Who's they?"
"Heed my warning," said Toni. "You mustn't let Brenda go to – go to the –"
"I musn't let Brenda go where? Where, Toni?!"
"Go to the –"
He had crashed on his unfinished draft.
Fuck, he couldn't be awake.
He had to go back to sleep.
Go where? he thought. Where can't I let Brenda go?
Toni, you get back here right this instant and tell me!
"You can't let me go where?"
Dylan devoured the sight of his wife.
"I can't let you go out in public," he said, "looking like that. The guys will be all over you."
"I'm wearing a messy bun," said Brenda. "And sweatpants. What guy's going to be interested in me when I might go out in public wearing two differently colored shoes because I can't see my feet?"
"Woman, if you aren't aware by now how much sex appeal you possess wearing a fucking Zorb ball, then I don't know what to tell you."
"Aren't you supposed to be writing, instead of sleeping and flirting with your ex-wife?"
"Wife. I'm flirting with my wife."
"The sooner you get used to the ex part, the less upsetting it will be for you."
"That's terrible logic."
"How so?"
"Because it assumes you won't also be upset in the completely hypothetical event we become exes."
"Completely hypothetical?" asked Brenda. "It's happened before. A few times, might I add."
"Is this about Rosenbach?"
"You should have told me, Dylan."
"Because you never keep things from me?"
"Sorry?"
"You never keep things from me," Dylan repeated. "You've never convinced yourself you're protecting me if you aren't fully honest with me?"
"I must get back to the kitchen."
"Brenda, you came in here for a reason."
"Whatever reason I had, I've forgotten," said Brenda. "Pregnancy brain."
"You're not using the twins as an excu – Brenda, we weren't done!"
Dylan sought to keep pace with her.
"I'm making Adrianna's favorite," said Brenda. "The dough would've gotten all soggy if I hadn't returned when I did."
"Convenient," said Dylan. He stood directly behind her. "How can I help?" he asked, crossing his arms just under Brenda's bulging abdomen.
"Help?" she asked.
"You're making our daughter's favorite," he said, inhaling the aroma surrounding Brenda's neck. "How can I help?"
Brenda's struggle for a response gave him satisfaction; an immense satisfaction that had been out of his reach for quite some time.
"You can brown the meat," she said, "whilst I make the pasta."
"Fresh pasta?" asked Dylan.
"Fresh pasta," said Brenda.
"Good, because the girls have been asking for me to make fresh pasta for weeks and I never could get the hang of this thing," said Dylan, bringing out the pasta maker purchased during a trip to the Abruzzo region that had served the McKay family well since Adrianna's childhood.
"There isn't much to it," said Brenda.
"Not with your talent," said Dylan. He prepared the meat. "Nine months today?"
"Nine months today," Brenda confirmed.
"We're in the home stretch," said Dylan. "Not long now."
"They've been particularly relentless today," said Brenda.
"So have the paps. Any truth to these media reports that you're retiring from acting? Because y'know, that would be something to tell your husband about, if you were going to do that."
She wasn't retiring, said Brenda – simply changing the sorts of projects she would take on.
"I will be accepting smaller, lower-budget roles," she said.
"Is there a reason for that?" he asked.
"The media intrusion we all faced last year has been detrimental to the girls," said Brenda. "If I wasn't half as famous as I have become from the sorts of projects I have accepted, there wouldn't have been an onslaught of media telling the classmates of our girls that I was having an affair, that you were having an affair, that I'm a murderer."
"You'd still be the wife of a McKay."
Dylan continued on to prevent Brenda from using his sentence as a segue into pushing at the divorce.
"If what you want is to take a step back and be more selective with your roles, then I'm all for it," he said.
Brenda announced she had decided to put her focus back on the start of her career: theatre.
"LA isn't well-known for its theatre scene, baby," said Dylan.
It wasn't that LA didn't have a theatre scene, such as the Pantages Theatre, but when one thought of succeeding in the theatrical stage sector of the arts, Los Angeles was not the first city that came to mind.
"Maybe I was wrong," said Brenda. "Maybe LA isn't the place we should raise our children."
"Are you thinking we should move?" Dylan's hopes skyrocketed. "Back to London?"
"Not back to London," she said. "I still want the girls to have their family nearby, especially with their new cousin on the way."
"How nearby?" asked Dylan. "New York?"
"How is that nearby?"
"It's the same country. Broadway would fall all over themselves to have you."
"I wasn't thinking Broadway."
"Nashville? How about Branson?"
"You want to move to Missouri?"
"Isn't the first place I'd consider, but it would be another fresh start for the girls. Chicago. We could go to Chicago."
"I left the Midwest for a reason, Dylan."
"You didn't leave the Midwest by choice, Bren."
"I did the second time."
San Francisco had crossed Brenda's radar.
"San Francisco?" asked Dylan. "It's NorCal, but it could work."
"Until I read about the theatre scene elsewhere," said Brenda.
San Diego.
"Now we're talking," said Dylan. "SD's a great place for the arts and the surf? Unbeatable."
"I didn't say you would be moving with us," said Brenda.
"You are not taking our children and moving two hours away," said Dylan. "I'm not going to drop in on them on weekends only. I have no reason to stay in Los Angeles if you and the kids aren't here."
"Not even for your friends?" asked Brenda. "Wouldn't you miss your friends?"
Was he dreaming again?
"They're our friends…"
Catching the playful glint now so rarely found in Brenda's eye, Dylan cut himself off.
"You're joking," he said.
"Of course I'm joking," she said. "If I choose to move the kids down to San Diego, I fully expect you to come along, as their father."
"As your husband."
Instead of answering, Brenda shaped the dough.
"Your husband," having finished the meat, Dylan switched off the stove, "of eighteen years." He kissed along Brenda's neck. "As of…oh, about two hours ago. In Baja, wasn't it?"
"Dylan," Brenda's head tilted, giving Dylan more access though he gathered that had not been her intent, "don't."
"I hear you like videotape," he said, crossing his lips over to the other side of her neck to ensure both sides of Brenda's neck received equal treatment.
"My daughter and her father are into videotape," Brenda refused to play along.
"You like movies?" asked Dylan. "'Cause I hear one's playing tonight that might be just up your alley."
"I did hear movies often play at night," said Brenda.
"C'mon, Bren." Dylan nudged his nose into her bun. "Come out with me tonight."
"You did hear the part where I'm not celebrating our anniversary?"
"Ade's got a project she did for school," said Dylan. "She'll be awfully crushed if you don't come check it out. You don't want our little girl crushed, do you?"
"Where is this project?" asked Brenda.
"Ade's given me specific instructions of its whereabouts that I am not to divulge to you under any circumstances."
"Does Ade want her favorite?"
Dylan went for a different tactic.
"The twins think their mum should go out tonight," he said, setting his hand on Brenda's belly, "with their dad. To check out their biggest sister's project that she poured her full heart and soul into. They think their mum, a revered actress, should support their sister in her endeavor in the arts sector that often receives –"
"The twins think their dad should release their mum so she can finish cooking," said Brenda.
"Nothing's stopping you from cooking, Bren."
"Nothing except you being so close, Dylan."
"Why?" he asked. "Do you find my presence distracting? Are you so bewitched by my alluring figure that you cannot function when I touch you? Are you as overwhelmed by my beauty as I am by yours? The beauty that, when brought together, has created our children?"
"Kids, your dad used to give up. Easily. He used to give me up."
"Used to. Keyword." Lifting the hem of Brenda's shirt, Dylan knelt before her abdomen. "Mummy's being a bit bolshie," he said.
"Bolshie?" asked Brenda.
"Bolshie," said Dylan. "If you think Mummy should allow Daddy to take her out tonight, show one," he held up one finger, "body part."
An indentation like that of an elbow appeared on Brenda's skin.
"The twins have spoken," said Dylan. "I'll bring you tonight. Seven sharp."
"That's not fair," said Brenda, "they've been showing themselves more and more."
"They spoke," said Dylan, "and we don't want to disappoint them or our Adrianna. Do we?"
"I guess not," said Brenda. "As long as you are aware how completely unfair this is."
"Noted."
As the lasagna baked, Dylan suggested they spend the day together, preparing the nursery.
There were many items they still needed for the twins that they had not kept after accepting that Callie would be their last.
"That's why Val and I are going shopping today," said Brenda. "I'm picking up stuff we still need and I'm helping her start to gather the stuff she'll need."
"I could go with you," said Dylan.
"Best not," said Brenda. "Is David back, yet?"
David had been called for an assignment in Abbotsford, prolonging Valerie's secret, as Brenda had said she did not feel it suitable to tell David over the phone or written correspondence.
"Not yet," said Dylan. "I think he purposely worked it out so he misses the wedding."
"We should miss the wedding," said Brenda.
Dylan reminded her that they could not miss Valerie's and Steve's wedding, as Brenda had been made the Matron of Honor and Dylan, the Best Man.
"You're asking me to be your Best Man?" he had questioned in disbelief when Steve had brought up the notion. "Why aren't you asking Brandon?"
"I did," Steve had said. "He won't do it because of Kelly."
"Because Kelly's mad at you for marrying Val because of Silver?"
"It's not like me and Val are making this a permanent thing," said Steve.
"Then what's with the wedding?"
"It's Val's first marriage. I wanted her to at least have a wedding for it, make it as normal as possible."
"It isn't normal. Normal would mean Brandon's your Best Man and Silver would be your groomsman."
"Look, if you aren't gonna be my Best Man, then I can ask Muntz. But I've known you a long time, McKay, much longer than either of us have known David, and with all the shit we've been through –"
"Alright, alright. I'll be your Best Man. But for the record, I'm with Brando on this. Hoping you'll do the right thing, Steve."
"I'm doing the right thing for my kids," said Steve. "Kai's looking forward to me and Val making it official."
"For however short of a time you do?"
"Yeah. For however short of a time we do."
"You go through with this and Silver's never going to forgive you."
"He'll be safe," Steve had said. "That's all I care about."
Dylan could not fathom getting married for purely convenience reasons.
It was the kind of reason Rush Sanders would get married.
Maybe Steve was more like his father than he liked to admit.
"Remind me again why I agreed to be Val's Matron of Honor?" asked Brenda.
"Because she's your best friend," said Dylan.
"My best friend who I'm mad at and completely disagree with," said Brenda.
"Mad or not, you wouldn't let Val get married without you, and you know it," said Dylan.
"Maybe the twins will come along early and disrupt the wedding to the point that Val will call it off entirely," said Brenda.
"Don't joke about that," said Dylan.
"They could. You heard Andrea. They could drop any day. They could drop at the wedding. Speak now, or forever hold your peace? Oops, sorry, Val, there goes my waters."
"They will come when they're good and ready," said Dylan. "Which won't be until you're fully formed," he told the twins. "Understood?"
The stretching of Brenda's skin told Dylan the twins' response, as if they were reaching specifically for their father.
I gotta fix things with your mum before you come, he communicated telepathically. Give me more time to do that.
"We have to get David back," said Brenda. "He has to be at the wedding."
"Bren, Val isn't suddenly gonna change her mind if she sees Silver at the wedding."
"She'll see he doesn't hate her," said Brenda. "He'll give her a reason to tell him."
"This is her way of protecting him," said Dylan, "and as long as Val thinks distancing herself from Silver is protecting him, you aren't gonna get her to change her mind."
"I suppose," said Brenda. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try."
I could try to kiss her, Dylan thought. She's near enough.
He recalled the last time he had tried to kiss Brenda and how it had felt when she had rejected his advance.
"That'll be Val," said Brenda.
"Seven sharp," said Dylan. "I'm picking you up from wherever you are."
"I can drive myself."
"Are you driving yourself to the shops?"
He had her there, as Valerie would be the one doing the driving.
Stepping close enough for Brenda to think he was about to kiss her, Dylan set a lingering kiss upon her cheek.
"Have fun," he said.
"We will," she said, fumbling her words. "You, too. I'm leaving the lasagna in your hopefully capable hands?"
"There's not much to it. Just taking it out of the oven."
"When the timer beeps. Exactly when the timer beeps."
"I've got this, Bren."
"Ade is counting on you, Dyl."
"She's counting on both of us."
Dylan eyed Brenda during their entire exchange.
She wants me, he thought. She wants me bad.
Until Brenda would initiate intimacy herself, he would refrain.
He wasn't about to have her block his kiss.
She had done that enough for a lifetime.
xx
Cooking together had been a terrible idea, one she should have rejected from the start.
He had been near enough to kiss her.
He could have kissed her.
Would she have let him kiss her?
Would she have let herself accept intimacy from him?
You accepted intimacy from me.
Shut up, thought Brenda. I did not. I screamed. I screamed and I screamed. I begged, and you didn't care.
"Bren, did you hear me?"
Brenda looked away from the toy she had been fixated on.
"I asked which one," said Valerie, holding up two different choices of carseat.
"Either," said Brenda.
"You're supposed to be more helpful," said Val.
"And you aren't supposed to lie to your baby's father," said Brenda.
"You've never lied to Dylan?" asked Val. "About anything?"
"What?" asked Brenda.
"You've never lied to Dylan," Valerie repeated, "about the smallest thing?"
"This isn't a small thing, Val!"
Brenda grabbed the necessities she still required for the nursery.
"You need to tell David," said Brenda. "You need to tell him, before he misses out on – on stuff like this." She stretched her arms out across the shop. "On shopping, and on doctor appointments. On all of it, Val."
"I told you why I can't tell him, Brenda."
"That's just an excuse."
"What are you going to do? Tell him for me? Because there are things I could tell Dylan about you."
Calling Valerie out on what Brenda assumed was a bluff, she asked what sorts of things Valerie could tell Dylan.
"I could tell him how you were muttering to yourself just now," said Valerie. "Is that a habit you picked up in jail?"
Brenda immediately jumped to the defense.
"I was not," she said, rifling through a rack of onesies. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, holding up the onesie.
"Nice," said Val. "It was something about intimacy," she continued with a flippant air as if Brenda's attempted change in topic had not occurred. "Are you considering being intimate with Dylan again? Because I could tell him that. Or I could tell him what Steve told me. I could tell Brandon what Steve told me and it'll make itself back to Dylan, either way."
"I thought you said Brandon refused to give you away," said Brenda. "Isn't he mad at you?"
"That's because of Kelly."
"Because of Kelly because of David."
"Bran would listen if I told him I had news about you."
"What did Steve tell you?"
"He says you were jumpy with him the other day."
Brenda's world unraveled before her.
"Did he – did he say why?" she asked timidly.
"He just said you were jumpy," said Val. "He's worried about you, and so am I."
"Have you ever been in jail for three months?"
"No, but –"
"I'd like you to tell me how someone can be in jail for three months and not come out of it jumpy."
"Why do I get the feeling you're using your jailtime as an excuse?"
Brenda zeroed in on a corner of the shop.
"Gina," she said.
"What does you being jumpy have to do with Gina?" asked Val.
"No, Gina is here," said Brenda. "In this shop. Over there."
"What is she doing in here?" asked Val. "This is a baby shop. For babies."
Brenda shushed her, attempting to overhear the conversation between Gina and the salesclerk.
"What are we shopping for today?" asked the clerk.
"A registry," said Gina.
"Oh, you're expecting?" asked the salesclerk.
"She's expecting?" Valerie whispered. "She and David are expecting?"
Valerie didn't have a right to be hurt, Brenda thought, but she could tell Valerie was all the same.
"Not as of yet," said Gina, "but my fiancé and I have been discussing it. We would like to become pregnant quite quickly."
"Fiancé?" whispered Val.
The ring on Gina's finger caught the light with immense sparkle.
"That can't be David's ring," said Brenda. "He'd never be able to afford something like that."
"David's engaged," said Val. "I have to get out of here."
"You're engaged," said Brenda. "To Steve. Are we having second thoughts?"
"David didn't tell me he's engaged."
"Again, you're engaged."
"David can't get mad at me for being engaged when he's engaged."
"And you can't get mad at him for being engaged when you're engaged, lying about his baby."
"Do you think he proposed to her on Christmas?"
"When you lied to him about his baby? Perhaps."
"In the meantime," said Gina, "a friend of mine is expecting and we have been asked to raise her baby. So we will need baby supplies."
"She has friends?" asked Val.
"I have a bad feeling about this," said Brenda. "Let's get out of here. There are plenty of other shops we can go to."
"That's so kind of you," said the clerk, "to raise your friend's baby for her."
"It's the least I can do, after all she's done," said Gina.
Prepared to leave their carts behind, Brenda and Valerie nearly made a dash for it until observing that Gina had moved to another area of the shop entirely.
They purchased their items and hurried out of the shop.
"She's up to something," said Valerie. "I know she's up to something."
Brenda put their purchases into the boot of Valerie's car.
"Why would David marry her?" asked Val.
"Let's see," said Brenda, "how broken does a guy have to be to propose to Gina and who, oh who, could have broken him? Maybe, if you just tell David…"
"And let my kid have Gina for a stepmom? Not happening."
"I thought this was about protecting David."
"It was about protecting him," said Val. "It still is, to an extent, but we do share Bryant and you would think that maybe, just maybe, sharing custody would mean he should tell me stuff like he's fucking engaged to Gina. The woman who put you in fucking jail, Brenda!"
"I think you should speak with David about this, instead of taking Gina's word for it."
"I have no intention of speaking with David, which is fine, as he has no intention of speaking with me, either."
"If it was truly so fine," said Brenda, "you would not be half as furious as you are."
"David's made his decision," said Val, "and I've made mine."
Try as she might, Brenda could not convince Valerie otherwise.
"You're wearing that?"
Brenda turned from the mirror to look at her girls, who had both climbed onto her bed.
"What's wrong with this?" she asked Adrianna.
"It's too plain," said Adrianna.
"You need to dress fancier," said Callie.
"Did Adrianna tell you to tell me that?" Brenda asked her second eldest. "Because you have exactly one fancy outfit in your entire wardrobe, Calista."
"Which I consent to wearing on special occasions," said Callie. "And this is a special occasion."
"The eighteenth anniversary isn't usually considered a special occasion," said Brenda.
"It's your last anniversary with Dad before the twins arrive," said Adrianna.
"That's a special occasion," she and Callie said together.
"Sit back and relax, Mum," said Adrianna. "Callie and I will find you the perfect outfit for tonight."
They produced a dress from Brenda's wardrobe that left her wondering how they had uncovered it to begin with.
"I can't wear that," said Brenda.
"Why not?" asked her girls.
Because he'll remember this dress, thought Brenda, and get the wrong idea if he sees me wearing it.
"Because the twins won't fit in it," she said.
"Not to bother," said Adrianna. "Try it on."
"Yeah, Mum," said Callie, "try it on."
Brenda gave in to the pressure from her girls, if only to show them that the dress would, in fact, not fit.
On the contrary; it fit perfectly.
"How?" she asked, drawing her fingers across the velvety material.
"We found it when Auntie Val was over here," said Adrianna.
"Yeah, and she told us it's the one you wore the night Daddy proposed," said Callie.
"Cal and I thought you might want it to still fit," said Adrianna.
"So we asked Aunt Donna to do some alterations on it," said Callie.
"And she did," said Adrianna proudly. "We had to guess your size, which Andrea helped with a little. What do you think, Mum?"
"I think," Brenda examined herself in the mirror, "I think my girls are two of the most thoughtful people I know."
"So will you wear it?" asked Callie.
The pleading faces of her daughters could convince the iciest heart to cave.
"I'll wear it," said Brenda, invoking cheers from both.
She allowed Adrianna to do her hair and makeup, as Callie painted her mother's nails.
"You'll need a sitter," said Brenda. "You can't take care of Grandma just yourselves."
"Dad's already taken care of that," said Adrianna.
Brenda screamed; a joyful, enthused scream brought about by two women whose attire suggested they had just stepped off the London runway.
That would have been due to their success in thrifting, as neither had the means to shop high couture.
"When did you arrive?" Brenda shrieked.
"This afternoon," said the women, one of whom never accepted hugs unless those hugs came from her Californian counterparts.
"Dylan picked us up," said one of the women.
"Bleedin' hell, you're huge," said the other.
"They've been pestering me for weeks to see you," said Dylan.
"And once you no longer had jail as an excuse not to see us, we had to come," said Maggie.
"Shane expects a full report," said Mia.
"He would have come along, but his schedule's a bit too tight at the moment," said Maggie.
"He plans to visit after you pop," said Mia.
"Aunt Maggie and Aunt Mia are sitting for us?" asked Callie.
"Wicked!" said Adrianna. "Might you have brought Aiden along?"
"Not this time, lovie," said Maggie.
"How do you expect me to go out with you tonight when you've brought Mags and Mia here?" asked Brenda to her husband.
"We can do a catch-up tomorrow," said Mia.
"Yes, go out with your husband tonight," said Maggie.
"Aren't you two supposed to be my friends?" asked Brenda.
"We were," said Mia.
"And then you introduced us to your delectable hubby," said Maggie.
"And made us both your friends," said Mia, "who would like to see you work out whatever…this is between you."
"We're thinking of the kiddies, really," said Maggie.
"The kiddies," said Brenda. "Sure you are."
"Who better to watch Cindy whilst we are out than Mia, a trained carer?" asked Dylan.
"Besides," said Mia, "we heard David is single."
"Very single," said Maggie.
"That isn't what I told them," said Dylan.
"Brandon told us," said Mia.
"Yeah, he said David is very single and Val is very not," said Maggie.
"Which was disappointing," said Mia, "on both accounts."
Mia's longtime fancy of Valerie was well-known throughout the group, with the possible exception of Valerie herself.
"It has been a while since we've seen Val or David," said Mia, "but from the looks I saw between them last time, I would have expected them to be married by now."
"Though I fully understand why Val is marrying a hunk like Steve," said Maggie.
"Please tell me I did not just hear you call Sanders 'a hunk,'" said Dylan.
"You have hunky friends, Dylan," said Maggie. "I still say you four should reconsider that boy band idea."
"Bren, can we go?" Dylan begged with his eyes.
Brenda giggled; her first genuine giggle in months, which brought an enormous smile to Dylan's face.
"Don't destroy the house," she told their friends.
"Oh, we won't," said Mia. "Will we, girls?" she asked.
"Why are you looking at me?" asked Adrianna. "You're the one who smokes, Aunt Mia."
"With this many beautiful people living here, it's a wonder this house is still standing," said Mia.
"Beautiful doesn't begin to cover it," said Dylan into Brenda's ear. "You look fantastic, Bren."
His hand slid around her waist.
Brenda glanced him over.
"You cleaned up nicely, yourself," she said.
"Maybe we should skip the evening and head straight to bed," he said.
"We could. I wouldn't say no to an early night. But I believe your couch is now occupied."
Dylan ushered Brenda outside.
"When did we buy another Porsche?" she asked, touching the sleek exterior.
"We didn't," he said. "It's a rental."
A rental that looked exactly like their old one that had to be scrapped after an unfortunate run-in with a deer on a snowy Minnesotan road.
They kept their conversation light, primarily about the children and the children's activities.
Conversation with Dylan, particularly when speaking about their children, always made time go by more quickly than it seemed.
"Close your eyes," said Dylan.
"Dylan," said Brenda.
"Close them."
Brenda closed her eyes.
Her door opened. Her hand went into his.
"Welcome back," said Dylan, standing behind Brenda with his arms around her, "to Palm Springs."
Brenda found herself looking at a house she had only been in once, yet long enough for it to be cemented into her memory.
"Silver said we could use the place," said Dylan.
"Henry's and Adele's," said Brenda. "It's just as glorious as I remember."
"And all Silver's," said Dylan. "This way, Pretty Woman."
He led her to the back of the house.
"Are we going swimming?" asked Brenda.
"In these temps?" asked Dylan. "Absolutely not."
"It isn't cold," she said.
"It isn't warm enough for a swim, either," he said.
He sat her in one of the lounge chaises beside the pool.
A giant screen was set up in front of the fence.
"Why are we here, Dylan?" asked Brenda.
"We took it one step at a time, Bren," said Dylan, "and, Ma, we got children out of it."
Adrianna's face appeared on the screen.
"Are we rolling?" she asked.
"We're rolling," said the unmistakable voice of David.
"Kai, are we ready?" asked Adrianna.
"I still don't like this," said Kai. "Being your husband. It's weird."
"You aren't my husband," said Adrianna. "They were never married. You're my lover."
"Can one of you be her lover?" asked Kai.
"I'll be her lover," said the boy Brenda remembered as Dixon Wilson.
"You can't be my lover," said Adrianna. "You're one of my many husbands."
"I thought I was one of your many husbands," said Navid.
"One of many," Adrianna emphasized.
"Does this mean I'm not Kai's scorned wife anymore?" asked Naomi.
"That was the other weird part," said Kai. "Can I direct, instead?"
"Cut!" said Adrianna.
The screen faded.
Dylan and Brenda broke out in laughter.
"Silver must've left that in as a blooper," said Dylan.
"I'm glad he did," said Brenda.
Adrianna reappeared on the screen, Dixon edited into his own box beside her.
"Andrew Makepeace Ladd, the third," recited Dixon.
Brenda swung her head to Dylan.
Dylan nodded his head towards the screen.
"- accepts with pleasure," Dixon continued, "the kind invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Channing Gardner for a birthday party in honor of their daughter Melissa on April 19, 1937 at half-past three o'clock."
"Dear Andy," said Adrianna in her best imitation of a purely New England accent, "thank you for the birthday present. I have a lot of Oz books, but not The Lost Princess of Oz. What made you give me that one? Sincerely Yours, Melissa."
"What is this, Dylan?" asked Brenda.
"Like I said," said Dylan, "Adrianna had to do a project for school and she chose to do this."
"And you didn't hint to her at all about choosing this particular play?"
"Just watch, Bren."
"I'm answering your letter about the book," said Dixon.
When Melissa had come into second grade with that stuck-up nurse, she had looked like a lost princess, Dixon-as-Andy explained.
Brenda realized halfway through the video that her hand had remained in Dylan's.
"I'm hungry," she said, removing her hand.
"I brought provisions," said Dylan.
"Wasn't this lasagna supposed to be for Adrianna's study group?" asked Brenda as she peeked into the container Dylan had offered.
"She said we could have some," he said.
They ate their lasagna, watching their daughter act out what had become their shared favorite play.
In all the plays Brenda had been in, not one of them had held the kind of importance to her that that one did.
Adrianna's performance had become her second favorite rendition.
"Was it so bad?" asked Dylan as the credits rolled. "Coming out with me tonight?"
"I guess it wasn't so bad," said Brenda.
Dylan inched closer to her.
"You asked me what I wanted to do," said Brenda. "What I think might help us to get over this…hurdle."
"Yes," Dylan sat back, "have you decided?"
"I think I would like to volunteer," said Brenda. "Adrianna told me you and she have been volunteering at one of the local psychiatric hospitals."
"We have," said Dylan.
"Could I join you?" asked Brenda.
"I don't see why not," said Dylan.
"We should get back."
"Yes, we probably should."
Fuck, I want to kiss him, Brenda thought.
You can't kiss him. You can't lead him on like that and then check yourself in. That's not right.
I've not decided I'm checking myself in.
Oh yeah, you're just volunteering at a psychiatric hospital for the fun of it.
"Bren?" asked Dylan.
"Thank you for tonight, Dyl," said Brenda. "It's been really special."
"My pleasure," said Dylan.
He helped her gather their belongings.
Readjusting the stack of items Brenda had picked up, Dylan's hand brushed across Brenda's breast.
His hand had cupped her sensitive breast.
His pelvis had pressed against her stomach.
"Brenda!" Dylan dropped his pile. "Brenda, what's wrong?" He looped his arms around her.
"You can't do that, okay?" said Brenda. "You can't just touch my breast like that, Dylan!"
"Why not?" asked Dylan. "I've touched it loads of times. My kids have sucked at it. I've sucked at it. You like when I touch these."
"We aren't together!" said Brenda. "Get that through your head!"
"Am I missing something here?" asked Dylan. "I thought we had a pleasant time."
"Yeah, well, you thought wrong," said Brenda, turning on her heel.
"Brenda! Where are you going!"
"Home!" she shouted.
"What are you going to do, walk there?" he asked.
"I'll take a bus."
"No you won't. Get in the car. I'll drive us home."
Fortunately for Brenda, everyone in the house had succumbed to slumber by the time she and Dylan drove in after a drive steeped in steamed quiet.
"I'm trying with you, Bren," said Dylan as Brenda pulled on her pajamas. "I'm really trying with you."
"Maybe you should stop trying with me," said Brenda, "and accept things can't go back to normal between us."
"Why?" asked Dylan. "Why can't they go back to normal? What are you hiding from me, Brenda?"
"I'm not hiding anything from you."
"You are. You're hiding something from me, and I'm going to find out what."
"You know all about hiding things, don't you, Dylan?"
"Goodnight, Brenda," said Dylan.
Though riddled with guilt that had resulted in a sleepless night, Brenda could not bring herself to apologize.
If she apologized, she would break down and tell him everything.
Maybe you should, she thought. Maybe telling him will help.
Until you have to visit him in prison for his resulting actions.
I'm protecting him. I have to protect him.
You're judging Val for how she's choosing to protect David, whilst you're deliberately keeping a secret from your husband in hopes that doing so will protect him?
It isn't his secret to know. It isn't anyone's secret to know.
If they don't know, Brenda, they can't help you. And, babe, you need help. Serious amounts of help.
You know, he invaded, the longer you don't tell your husband about us, the longer I'm going to believe you like having me as your dirty little secret.
There is no us, Brenda argued.
So then why are you acting like you had the affair, instead of your husband? he shot back.
"Excuse me," Brenda asked the volunteer coordinator that had sent Dylan and Adrianna to their respective duties, "am I permitted to request which individual I can help?"
"We don't usually take requests," said the coordinator, "though we can in certain instances."
"I'm doing research for a role," said Brenda. "I like my roles to have as much authenticity in them as possible."
"Which role would that be?" asked the coordinator.
Brenda's request to speak with a survivor of sexual trauma had brought her to the room of one Mrs. Analiese Marigold.
"Marigold?" asked Brenda. "I have a frie – an ally named Marigold."
"Your ally must be a unique individual. Us Marigolds often are," trilled Analiese.
"Unique is one word for it," said Brenda.
"My dear, you look quite a bit like that darling Adrianna who visits me on occasion."
"She's my daughter."
"Yes, I see the resemblance. I can also see why Mr. McKay is so besotted with you."
"Has he spoken of me?"
"Oh, frequently."
Rather than launch into an interrogation of Analiese's trauma straight away, Brenda asked how Analiese had felt her time in the hospital had helped her.
"They're good to me here," said Analiese.
"Does it ease your mind?" asked Brenda. "To be here?"
"Why, are you considering it?" asked Analiese.
"I am the curious type," said Brenda. "Some would say too curious."
Yes, said Analiese, it eased her mind considerably to be taken care of in hospital.
Their catch-up was to only be about gossip from the other side of the ocean, Brenda told her friends, and under no circumstances were they to pry into her relationship status with Dylan.
She could not focus on their conversation, as she normally did.
She focused only on what Analiese had said.
Brenda was still thinking of her visit with Analiese as Valerie stood before the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles in her cream-colored jumpsuit.
"Are you having second thoughts?" asked Brenda. "Because we can leave at any time."
"Steve's waiting for me," said Valerie. "I can't leave him at the altar."
"Steve will be fine," said Brenda. "He has other women he can turn to. Like his ex, Clare. And didn't I hear about a flirtation between him and D'Shawn's sister?"
"Why are you ruining this for me, Bren?"
"If it can be ruined, Val, then it's not what you should be doing. The twins agree with me. See?" Brenda set Valerie's hand against Brenda's abdomen. "I think they're saying hi to their littlest cousin," said Brenda. "And trying to keep their auntie from doing something she's going to regret."
"My only regret would be making Ruby lose her father because I was too selfish in wanting to be with him," said Val.
Valerie brought Brenda's hand to Valerie's own stomach, though they both acknowledged Brenda wouldn't feel anything at that early stage.
The door cracked open.
"You ladies decent?" asked Dylan.
"We're decent," said Brenda.
Naomi entered.
"Auntie Val," she said, "there's someone who wants to see you before your mistake; I mean," Naomi gave a fake laugh, "wedding."
"Hello, baby," said Valerie, taking Bryant from Naomi. "Have you been good for your cousin?"
"We all know Ade's much better with babies," said Naomi, "but I don't think I've been too bad."
"Brandon," Valerie's eyes glimmered with unshed tears, "I didn't think you were going to come."
"You're getting married," said Brandon. "I might not approve of any of this or what it's doing to a good friend of mine, a brother-in-law of mine; I won't be participating in it to pretend I do, but I wouldn't miss your wedding. And I wouldn't miss Steve-o's, again."
Brenda gave her brother a grateful smile.
He, in turn, smiled back.
"Do I look okay?" asked Valerie.
"If sex goddesses look okay."
Brenda followed the voice to the man in the doorway.
"David," said Val. "I – I wouldn't expect you to be here."
"You came to my parents' wedding," said Ruby behind her father. "It's only fair that my dad comes to yours, isn't it?"
"It's like Rubes said," said David. "You came to my wedding, so I guess in turn I should come to yours. Even if I think you're making the biggest mistake of our lives."
"Dad," Ruby cleared her throat.
"If you're happy with Steve, then I'm happy for you," David forced out.
"Like you were happy for my parents," said Ruby. "Weren't you?"
"Sure," said Valerie, seemingly blurring out everyone else in the room to focus solely on David.
"Maybe we've hurt each other too much to make this work," said David. "Maybe it's good for you to start over with a good guy like Steve."
"Maybe," said Val.
"There's a lot worse guys you could've married," said David. "I'd know. I've seen you date them."
"Dad," said Ruby.
It appeared that Valerie would crumble if she attempted to leave that room.
"Val?" asked Brenda. "Should I go meet Steve at the altar?"
"Can I have a moment alone with Bren?" asked Val.
Dylan searched Brenda's eyes.
Brenda nodded.
"Everyone out," said Dylan.
Brenda waited patiently for Valerie to speak.
"Bren," said Val after some time, "I don't think I can do this."
"You weren't happy for David and Donna?" asked Brenda.
"I was," said Val, "but I was miserable. And so is David. Did you see his face? I did that to him, Bren. I made him that miserable! He thinks this is payback. Ruby thinks this is payback."
"Isn't it?" asked Brenda. "A bit? You're getting back at David for marrying Donna by marrying his best friend?"
"Former best friend," said Val. "That isn't why I'm marrying Steve."
"I know the plethora of reasons you're marrying Steve, Val, and in none of those reasons have you ever indicated why this marriage would be good for Steve."
"The sex," said Val. "We have good sex."
"You're going to sleep with one man whilst you're carrying the baby of another man?"
"He gets a mom for Kai and Maddie."
"You've been Kai's second mum, Val. You don't have to marry Steve to be it. I'll tell Steve the wedding's off."
"Brenda –"
Preventing Brenda from walking out the door, Valerie reached for Brenda's shoulder.
The guard had captured her.
He had informed her how he liked women who posed a challenge.
He had gripped her shoulder.
She had glanced over that shoulder at his dead body.
"Oh my God! Oh my God, Val, I'm so sorry!"
"I shouldn't have grabbed at you, Bren…"
The door burst back open.
"What happened?" asked Dylan.
"I fell," said Valerie, as Brandon helped her to her feet.
"She didn't fall," said Brenda. "I knocked her back."
"It was a reflex," said Val. "I shouldn't have grabbed at Bren's shoulder."
"She's pregnant," said Brenda. "She's pregnant, and I could have seriously hurt her baby!"
"You didn't do it on purpose, Bren," said Brandon.
"You didn't," said Val. "It was an accident, and these stilettos probably weren't the best idea."
"Why are neither of you understanding how serious this is!" said Brenda.
"She said it was an accident, Bren," said Dylan.
"I knocked her into a chair, Dylan!" said Brenda.
"There are worse things to be knocked into," said Val.
"I'm going to speak with my wife," said Dylan. "Alone," he added.
Brenda paced the room.
"I did it again," she said. "I could have injured another pregnant woman."
"You didn't injure the first one," said Dylan.
"You said I need help," said Brenda, still pacing. "You said I need help and you're right, Dylan, I do."
"I didn't say you need…I just wanted to fix –"
"I'm a menace to others," said Brenda. "I'm a menace to Val, a menace to her baby, a menace to the girls, a menace to you. Something you need to fix."
"Now hang on, I never said – I meant we need to be fixed, not that you – "
"I see things, Dylan. I told you I did, and you wouldn't listen. I see things no one else sees. I hear things no one else hears."
"If you're willing to accept help, Bren, we'll get you it," said Dylan, "but you are not a menace to me or to anyone and don't go telling yourself you are."
"I have to check myself in," said Brenda. "It's the only way you all will be safe from me, if I check myself in."
"You want to check yourself in? Brenda, we've barely gotten you back!"
"I'm not back. You said it yourself. I'm not back, and the girls can't have a mum around who isn't back."
"The girls need their mum around," said Dylan, "period. I understood your hesitation to allow them to visit that – that place. I understood, I accepted it, and I kept them away, just like you asked. I will not do that this time, Brenda. If you choose to check yourself in, I will not prevent our girls from visiting you."
"It'll only be for a few days," said Brenda, "a weekend, at max. They can help me. They're trained to help people like me."
"People like you?"
"People whose minds have them fucked up. They're used to people like me."
"I'm supposed to be the one with the fucked-up mind," said Dylan.
"You're saner than your wife," said Brenda. "Bet you never saw that coming."
"You're just upset over Val's accident," said Dylan. "She's fine, Bren. No harm, no foul."
"How long before I do that to someone else?" asked Brenda.
"You won't," said Dylan.
"You can't know that for sure."
"You won't."
Tell him about us. Now's the perfect time to tell him about us.
I'll start. Dylan McKay, I fingered your wife, and she loved –
"Shut up!" said Brenda.
"Excuse me?" said Dylan.
"Not you," said Brenda.
Oh, I might've fucked her, too.
Brenda again told the voice to shut up.
"I didn't say anything," said Dylan. "Brenda, you're scaring me. We're getting the girls and going home."
"Me scaring you is precisely why I need to check myself in," said Brenda.
"You're certain this will help?" asked Dylan. "Checking yourself in? Can't I," his voice squeaked, "can't I help you in some other way? Some other way that won't separate you from us?"
"I'm scaring you," said Brenda. "Do you want the girls to be scared the way you're scared?"
"Okay," Dylan drew across Brenda's hand, "we'll check you in. Just for the weekend. Only a weekend, Brenda."
"Then you won't have to be scared of me."
"Bren, I'm not scared of you. I'm scared for you."
I'm scared for me, too, Brenda thought.
They all acted as if everything was normal.
Brenda acted as if she was normal, as she walked arm-in-arm with Dylan down the aisle.
As Dylan went to Steve's side and Brenda stood in her spot waiting for Valerie to come to hers.
As David stood, pivoting with the small group of attendees to see Valerie's stroll down the aisle.
As Valerie's eyes struggled to pry away from David's, which Brenda was sure Steve noticed.
As Dylan brought Brenda to the psychiatric hospital to check in that night, after their difficult talk with the girls that Mummy needs a little help, but she'll be back after the weekend.
"Can't we help her, Daddy?" Callie had asked.
"I'm afraid we can't, Little Fish," Dylan had said.
"But we always help Mum," said Adrianna. "Don't we, Mum?"
"We need to let someone else help Mum," said Dylan. "Someone trained and qualified to help Mum."
Dylan hadn't said a word since they had left for the hospital.
"Dylan," said Brenda. "I –"
"I hope they can help you, Bren," said Dylan. "I really hope they can. Because the girls and I? We're giving up our world, again, so that she can get the help she says she can get here."
"I'm no good to any of you with my mind like this," said Brenda.
"That's where you're wrong," said Dylan. "And maybe the doctors here can help you see it, because God knows I've tried." He handed Brenda the suitcase they had hastily packed. "One weekend, Bren. That's all you get. The girls and I will see you and the twins after the weekend. The very long weekend."
"You aren't going in with me?"
"I'm not checking my wife in. If she wants to be checked in, she can check in herself. I just hope you won't regret it, because I've regretted agreeing to this since the second we left the girls with the newlyweds."
Dylan got back in the car.
Brenda sobbed, watching him drive away from her.
She sobbed harder when, still standing in front of hospital, she noticed the same car swerve around to park in the carpark.
Composing herself, Brenda walked inside.
"My name is Brenda," she told the receptionist, "Brenda…Bussichio, and I'm here to check myself in. Please help me," she lowered her face onto the counter, "please help me, the way you've helped Mrs. Marigold, because I can't live like this anymore."
"Dear?" asked the receptionist.
"I can't," said Brenda, "and neither can my family. And – and the harder I try, the more…the more I distance myself from them. I don't want this. I don't want to be distant from them. I don't want to hurt my husband. I keep hurting him. Over and over, I'm hurting him. Please help me."
"Can I get some help over here!" The receptionist hurriedly stood as she hollered.
"Please help me," said Brenda once more, as she was collected by an orderly.
"Has she checked in?"
Brenda swiveled in his direction.
"She has, Mr. McKay," said the receptionist. "Ms. Bussichio has checked in."
"Ms. Bussichio?" asked Dylan. "Very well. I'll bring Ms. Bussichio to her room."
"It isn't your shift, Mr. McKay," said the orderly.
"As you can see," said Dylan, "Ms…Bussichio is quite a ways into her pregnancy and I think she would feel more comfortable if someone with whom she has a…familiar acquaintance brought her into her room. If you would be so kind as to point me in that direction?"
Dylan lifted Brenda, carrying her to the room.
She tucked her drooping head into the curve of his neck.
"You're lucky that isn't the receptionist who was on-duty when we were here, Brenda…Bussichio," he said.
"I thought you left," she said.
"I said I wouldn't check you in," he said. "You're checked in. We're in this together, Brenda. In sickness and in health. It wasn't talking about physical health only."
"I'm so knackered, Dylan."
"Sleep, Bren," said Dylan. "Ade and I are scheduled for a shift tomorrow, and I'll bring Callie along for a visit when we're done. Brandon, Val, and whoever else will be along, as well. We're all going to help you, as a family."
"But I've been so terrible to you."
"I haven't always been the greatest to you, and you still tried to stand by me when I needed you most. That's now for you, Bren. Now's when you need me the most, even if you deny it. I pushed you to your breaking point then, but I ain't gonna let you push me away now." Dylan lay Brenda out on the bed. "Sleep," he repeated, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Night, baby," he said. He dropped two kisses on different areas of her stomach. "Little babies. Until tomorrow."
"They love you," said Brenda.
"I love you, too," said Dylan. "Maybe, at some point, you'll feel comfortable enough to confide in me what you're hearing and seeing that has you so worked up."
I want to, Brenda mentally answered. I want to tell you so badly.
But I'm afraid, Dylan. I'm so afraid of telling you. I'm afraid how you'll react. I'm afraid I won't be able to save you if you go off the deep end again.
Perhaps, she thought, perhaps after this weekend, perhaps after they help me, perhaps I'll tell.
Perhaps.
-x
First off, as a proud Californian-born who spent my entire childhood on the coast of California, as someone who has visited LA at least three times in my lifetime (and sat in terrible LA traffic for six hours to get to San Diego one Christmas holiday,) as someone who writes about LA quite a bit due to the setting of BH stories, and as simply a human being, my heart, prayers, and other means of support are with the people of LA (and California) at this time.
Now resume the regular story notes:
There's a purposeful parallel in this chapter. Did you spot it?
I know, I know, but I couldn't build up all that drama with Val's and Steve's decisions and then cop-out! You know me; DnV will be the endgame, but now we have to figure out how they are going to get there. (Plus, I can't help it, I love me some Sanders-Malone.)
Bren's break has been building for quite some time...if you recall, she told Dylan prior to her assault that she believed she was seeing and hearing things...
Speaking of something this story has built up to...
Buckle up for 26 (if it goes the way it's planned to go!)
Sources: Google and the Love Letters play.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly. Thank you, KJ! I concur that it would have been much better if Val had told David from the start, but she's made her bed [with good intent] and now she has to dig her way out of it, somehow.)
Thanks a million!