Chapter 21
Two Weeks Later
They hadn't put a label on it, but the way he held her, shielded her… she knew what it was. They'd found a rhythm. Laughter, comfort, stillness. But real love asked for more. Tonight, would prove that.
They'd quietly celebrated Christmas and New Year's together, just the two of them.
No need for a spectacle or grand gestures—simply enjoying each other's company in the warmth of her home or his, exchanging thoughtful gifts, sharing midnight kisses, and whispering promises for the year ahead.
Those intimate holidays had only deepened what was growing between them.
Taylor watched Brooks carefully as he adjusted his belt in the mirror. She could see the tension in his jaw, though he tried to hide it behind that mask of confidence he wore so well.
Life had been good and moving smoothly, but after she told her mother about Brooks over lunch, her mother insisted that they had dinner together. And tonight was the night.
Brooks met her eyes in the mirror, his expression softening when he looked at her. “Yes, we do. I’m not running or dodging your parents, Tay. That’s not how I move.”
Taylor sighed, smoothing her hands down his back.
It had taken a few days of convincing her father to agree to have dinner with Brooks.
Her mother had been easier after their reconciliation, and Teresa Bradshaw had been making a genuine effort to support Taylor’s choices.
But Reverend Bradshaw? He’d barely agreed to come.
“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” she admitted.
Brooks turned, cupping her face in his hands.
“Tay, your daddy’s disapproval ain’t nothing I can’t handle.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “This matters to you, so it matters to me. Respectfully, you know what type of time I’m on.”
People rarely got to see Brooks like this—protective, intentional, gentle. He held her through every storm without demanding credit. She rested against his chest, trusting him completely.
He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful when he said he didn’t care what people thought. He was just being honest. Nobody on earth had the power to make him back off her. They could throw rocks, whisper rumors, even pray against it, but they’d have better luck drowning a fish.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Brooks checked his watch. “We should head out. Don’t want to keep the reverend waiting.”
The drive to Ashton’s was quiet. Taylor kept fidgeting with her dress. She kept it modest but stylish in a satin cream dress.
Brooks reached over, stilling her restless hands with one of his. “Relax. We got this.”
“I know.It’s just. I’m not really in the mood for this either. ”
He squeezed her hand. “No, we doing this ok? I’m not here to win him over. I’m here for you.”
Inside, her parents waited. Teresa Bradshaw greeted them warmly, embracing Taylor before extending her hand to Brooks. “Good to see you again, Brooks.”
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Bradshaw.”
Reverend Bradshaw sat stiffly, offering Brooks only a curt nod. “Bishop.”
“Reverend,” Brooks replied evenly, pulling Taylor’s chair out before sitting himself.
After drink orders, Teresa tried to ease conversation. “Taylor mentioned your new location in Millville, Brooks.”
Brooks nodded, his posture relaxed despite the scrutiny. “Yes, ma’am. We're creating opportunities. Making something positive from my past.”
The Reverend eyed him steadily. “I knew your father. Complicated man. Did good and harm alike.”
Brooks didn’t flinch; many people knew his father unless you lived under a rock.
“Clarence,” Teresa warned softly.
“I won’t judge a son by his father,” he continued anyway, eyes sharp, “but apples rarely fall far from trees. Men like you don’t change; they hide better.”
Brooks placed a gentle hand on her thigh under the table, calming her. His expression remained composed, unbothered.
“With all due respect, you’re not wrong about my father. He did what he thought he had to do to survive and provide. I learned from him both what to do and what not to do.”
He leaned forward slightly. “But you are wrong about one thing. I’ve never tried to hide who I am. Not from Taylor, not from you, not from anyone. I’m a Bishop and I’m not ashamed of it.”
Through appetizers, Reverend Bradshaw continued testing Brooks subtly, finally asking bluntly, “How do you feel about church? Taylor was raised in faith. Will you be attending church? Getting baptized.”
“I respect Taylor’s faith,” Brooks answered honestly. “I’m not a church-going man myself, but I believe in God.”
“And your... business associates? They respect her faith too?”
Brooks didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Just stared him down, steady.
“What makes you think I got associates to worry about?” His voice was calm, but his meaning cut sharp. “I’m not my father.”
“We’ll see.”
He leaned in slightly, voice cold and exact. “But let’s be clear: If anyone ever thought about touching her, I’d burn this damn city down.”
Her father gave Taylor a long look, the kind that said she knew better. The kind that used to shut her up without saying another word. She didn’t cower. If she wasn’t safe with Brooks she wasn’t safe with anyone.
“I worry about influences around Taylor,” her father pressed.
Brooks held his gaze. “Your daughter’s grown. She makes her choices. The only influence I offer is honesty and happiness.”
Her father scoffed, shaking his head. “And where has that gotten her? Divorced and running around with you. ”
The table went quiet. Tension hung heavy in the air.
“I think what your father means,” her mother interjected gently, trying to soften the blow, “is that he just wants to make sure you’re happy, Taylor. That’s all any parent wants.”
Then she cut her eyes at her husband and added, “And if that’s not what he meant… he might find himself in the doghouse. Ain’t that right, Clarence?”
Taylor let the silence linger.
Then she looked at Brooks.
Steady. Unbothered. The same dark eyes that never demanded anything from her, never pulled at her peace. He was watching her, waiting on her to decide who she wanted to be in this moment. And also deciding he’d be cool with whoever showed up. He didn’t need her to defend him.
She looked back at her parents.
Taylor set her napkin down sharply, “I’m not running around. I chose Brooks. I didn’t come here for judgment. If you can’t accept my choice, we can leave.”
She felt Brooks lace his fingers through hers—no pressure, just presence. Her father studied them, realizing she wouldn’t back down.
Her father’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did.
He was surprised at her willingness to stand her ground.
He’d known Brooks for years and in any other capacity wouldn’t mumble a bad word about Brooks, but it was something about him being with his daughter that unsettled him.
His little girl wasn’t a little girl anymore.
She even looked differently to him today.
Brooks cleared his throat, meeting Mr. Bradshaw’s eyes.
“I came here outta respect—for you, your house, and especially Taylor. You don’t have to like me, but she loves you, and I honor that. I’ll never stand in your way, just don't stand in mine.”
The food arrived, forcing a pause in the tension.
Plates were placed, glasses refilled, and for a few minutes, the conversation steered toward neutral ground, church events, summer planning, some light neighborhood gossip.
Brooks handled it all with ease, not once defending himself against the petty jabs tucked between her father’s questions.
When dessert hit the table, the Reverend leaned back, ready to test him again.
“Tell me, Bishop,” her father said, tone sharp. “What are your intentions with my daughter? And don’t give me no slick answer. I’m not here for games.”
Brooks didn’t blink, he didn’t do games either.
“Whatever she wants. For as long as she’ll let me.” He paused. “She’s had enough people putting expectations on her.”
Her father’s brow lifted. “Expectations like stability? Marriage? You plan to just play house?”
Brooks leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His voice stayed even.
“She’s not playing. She’s healing. And she’s happy. Ask her?”
Her father opened his mouth, but Brooks cut in, calm and measured.
“I’m not perfect. But I show up. When her husband got arrested and left her stranded, I came. When she needed space to breathe, I gave it without making it about me. ”
A beat of silence. Her father shifted slightly, like the words landed deeper than he’d admit.
“We want what’s best for her.”
Brooks scoffed, “I don’t know about that. You giving what’s best for her a hard time.”
Silence settled. Taylor’s mother softly whispered, “Amen.”
“You may not agree. You may not like me. But I protect her. I uplift her. I remind her who she is every damn day. Whether you accept it or not, she’s mine to protect now.”
Her father leaned back, studying Brooks hard. Measuring.
He didn’t flinch. They could stare at each other all night. The reverends daughter was leaving with him and about to get her back blown out. There wasn’t anything else to talk about.
Dinner was done, and Brooks couldn’t have been happier about it. Clarence Bradshaw had tried to push, tried to rattle him. But it wasn’t going to work. Brooks wasn’t the predator. He wasn’t the past. He wasn’t the mistake.
He was the upgrade.
And deep down, Clarence knew that and rattled him more than anything.
As they were preparing to leave, Taylor excused herself to the restroom. Her mother followed her, leaving Brooks and her father alone.
“I don’t like what he’s saying to Brooks,” Taylor murmured, checking her lipstick in the mirror. “He shouldn’t have to defend himself.”
Her mother stepped beside her, gently fixing a curl that had loosened. “Your father’s stubborn, but he’ll come around. And that man out there? He doesn’t seem like the type to flinch. I like that.”