A/N: Ranger did say, once, that Bobby and Steph had a lot in common. No one saw it, so here's one place where you might see some similarity between them.

All conversations with Mrs. Brown in French.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T the skills. Please. Part II

Bobby's POV—One day after Natalie's Interview

The scientists working on understanding the cosmos should start with determining how it is that paper seems to multiply when you aren't looking. Is it asexual reproduction? Or are the piles getting off like bunnies when I'm not watching?

I miss Les. That topic of conversation would keep us occupied for at least an hour. I hunt for my phone and send him a quick text, just checking to make sure he's still having fun in the Bahamas. I see the boat keeps moving.

Two hours later, the paper piles have multiplied yet again and I'm back at it, checking the paperwork for the bonds office (when did he sign this?), when my phone rings.

I answer without checking the display. "Yo."

"Bobby."

"Hey Jack."

"All hell has broken loose," she says tightly.

I put the papers down and stretch. "What happened?" Where are my keys?

"Mère found Gennie in the bathroom, on the floor sobbing, and couldn't get her to move. We got her to the doctor, but you were right about the dehydration. Gennie's on bed rest for two weeks. It's serious, but that's not the drama."

Ice slashes my heart for a moment. Not my niece! "What happened?" I'm tossing stuff now, searching for my … there they are!

"Oh my god, are you sitting down? Michael, that piece of shit motherfucker, he's left Gennie."

He's a dead man. "What did he say?"

I pack everything away and head for my car as Jack gives me the scoop.

Michael and Gennie had a fight yesterday. Michael revealed he's been staying with single friends of his because the reality of his life hit him hard. Being a husband and father was not the experience he expected. He expected to have at least one son, not three daughters and he was furious Gennie assumed he was cheating! He wasn't! Coming home to a nagging wife and 'active' daughters was not peaceful. He hit the door and Gennie didn't let up until he was asleep. Do this, do that, help with this, help with that, make dinner, help the girls, rub my feet, dry my tears, wah wah wah. He barely had time to loosen his tie and take a piss before she was giving him a list of duties!

In short, he'd do anything not to go home, even work eighteen and twenty hour days. Gennie was stunned speechless … until she kicked his ass out.

"So when Mère swung by this morning to put your advice into action, she found Gennie on the bathroom floor sobbing, the girls confused and crying along with her. I got there about ten minutes later and I expected to have to drag Gennie from the house to the doctor. Nope! Mère's in the bathroom with Gennie trying to wipe her face and make her presentable and calm Michaela and Marcelle. We finally got Gennie into my car and Mère got the girls into the kitchen to bake cookies."

She sighs. "Mère always makes it look easy. I mean, she was doing that in 3 inch heels and a sheath dress!" She laughs. "I'll never be Mère."

My blood is boiling, but I take a moment to imagine my mother, elegantly clad in a tight dress and high heels, prepared to take her granddaughters for the day. Does Mère own jeans? I chuckle at the thought.

"Anyone seen Michael?"

"Oh, we're searching for his ass," she says tightly.

"We?" Chase too? He was here in Atlanta this week, but I thought he was headed back to Charlotte today.

"Chase heard from Uncle Charles, who heard from Père, just as he was heading back to Charlotte. He's started a search. I'm headed back to my office to start a petition for divorce."

I'm thinking fast. "Fill it out, but don't file anything. Tell Chase to keep searching. I'm headed to Gennie's."

"Fine. Talk some sense into our baby sister. She's talking about keeping that fucker."

"That's her marriage, Jack. Stay out of it."

"You can't be serious! You can't think—"

"I think my baby sister is married with three kids. I think she chose Michael and it's her decision to stay married to him. I think my job is to hold her hand and help her make decisions. Nothing more."

After all, I've learned my lesson about trying to direct someone's life.

I'm halfway to Gennie's by the time I hang up on Jack. I walk in the house and find Mère reading to Marcelle and Michaela. Marcelle's asleep and Michaela's nearly there. She waves a sleepy hand in my direction, the thumb of her other hand firmly in her mouth. I pick her up and kiss her sweet, sugar-smelling cheek, then rub her back until she falls asleep.

I get a tiny puddle of drool for my trouble. I love my nieces. Sugar and spice and everything nice. They're Uncle Bobby's sweet little girls.

Mère levers herself off the ottoman and stands on her tip toes to kiss me. Jack called the dress right; Mère is wearing a silk sheath, full makeup, and silk stockings.

"Robert."

"Mère." I put Michaela down and hug Mère tight. "You look too beautiful to make cookies in that dress."

She sniffs. "That's why they make aprons, fils." I snicker. "Are you here to convince Gennie to leave Michael? Say yes. That's the only thing I want to hear."

I'm silent and Mère rolls her eyes. "Fine. Go talk to her."

I climb the stairs and enter Gennie's bedroom. She's in the bed, looking despondent as she flips through the channels. My appearance makes her smile.

"Bobby."

I kick my shoes off and climb on the bed. "Hey sis." One hand on her belly and my niece gives her Uncle Bobby a high five. "Hey baby girl."

"Let me guess. You're here to talk me into leaving Michael."

"Nope."

She looks surprised. "No?"

"No." I attempt to get comfortable. Gennie's plush pillowtop mattress is going to kill my back, I just know it. "I'm here as moral support. I'm here to support whatever you want."

"And if I said I wanted to stay married?"

"OK."

"Really?" She gives me a skeptical look. "You'd support that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's not my marriage." She looks surprised to hear me say that. "It's your life, your marriage, your husband. You want him? You keep him."

She looks grateful that I'm not haranguing her to leave Michael. I sit through two episodes of Murder, She Wrote and one of Family Feud before Gennie speaks.

"I've been thinking about leaving him."

"Umm hmm."

"I mean, I did say I wasn't going to have this foolishness this year."

"Umm hmm."

"I mean, he seriously got pissed that we're having another daughter! I'm gonna have this baby any day now! Is this really the time for him to say he doesn't want another daughter?"

"Um um um." I'm not saying a word.

"I was shocked when he told me how he felt." Her voice catches and I rub her hand until she calms down.

"Understandable."

"Is it?" She turns to me, tears in her eyes. "You really understand that?"

"Gennie, we talked about this, remember? OK, so his way of saying it was shit, but Jack and I both told you this was possible. Do you want your marriage?"

"Yes."

"You still love him?"

"Yes."

"Then let's talk about what you two need. You know me. Results oriented." She gives me a weak smile. "Sounds like you need a housekeeper and an au pair."

"Bobby—"

I raise a hand. "Quit trying to be Superwoman, soeur. You can't run a business, take care of your kids, take care of yourself, and this house, without some help. Michael feels overwhelmed. Right?" She nods. "Then let's get you some help."

"Help is expensive."

"You want your marriage?"

"Bobby!"

I shrug. "Divorce is expensive."

She pouts her lip at me before sighing. "OK."

"OK. Now, let's look at the low level tasks—"

"Caring for my children is not a low level task."

I roll my eyes. "Hugs, kisses, playing with them and teaching them, those are not low level tasks, but fighting with them to get dressed? Is that really something you want to do every day? Doing hair, brushing teeth, taking baths? How about fighting with the girls over their meals? Aren't you still trying to potty train Marcelle? Is Michaela still turning her nose up at anything green?"

"How do you remember that?"

I smile smugly. They're my baby girls. Uncle Bobby wants to know everything.

Gennie groans. "OK, I see your point."

"Right. How about letting someone else do that and you come home and play with them? You could have ten or fifteen minutes a night to kick back and have a glass of wine"—I glance at her stomach—"once you've stopped breastfeeding because the au pair is giving them their baths and getting them ready for bed?" Gennie looks thoughtful. "Think about the joy of walking into a clean house where the laundry has been done, there are fresh sheets on the beds and you can see the path of the vacuum in the carpet."

"Oooh … God, that sounds good," she moans.

"Yes. How about having a few minutes each night to spend with this new baby because Michael or the au pair is taking care of Michaela and Marcelle?"

"You are really selling this, Bobby."

"Good." I kiss her forehead gently. "Prioritize, sis. Let someone else take on the fights. You get the fun. You carried them, you birthed them, you raise them. Let someone else bathe them. And change them." I shake my head. "Those diapers are stinky."

She's giggling helplessly now.

"This house? This big ass house? Seriously? Wood floors, carpet, knick knacks everywhere." I motion around her bedroom. "Dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping." I roll my eyes. "Merry Maids! Let someone else do the laundry, the dishes, the beds, all that housework. What do you call it in economics? Opportunity costs? Give up the drudgery of housework in favor of being a job creator."

We snicker before Gennie sobers. "I can't afford it."

"You can't afford not to." I give her a look and she sighs.

"Bobby …"

I won't make her ask. We'll just take the way she said my name as the request. "Of course, sis."

The tears start rolling down her face. "Thank you," she sobs. I pull her close and rub her back.

"Is now a good time to mention I have a maid coming on Monday?" She looks up at me. "I'd planned to make sure someone was here to relieve the load before you had my baby girl. By the way …?" I raise a brow. Gennie is fierce about keeping names a secret, but I've always known the names of my nieces before they enter the world.

"Mariette, but don't tell anyone."

I give baby Mariette another high five. "Belle nom, soeur."

"Merci, frère."

"Shall I ask Mère to find you an au pair?" She frowns, so I add, "At least six months, sis. Someone to help with Michaela and Marcelle while you and Michael concentrate on this new baby."

That did the trick. "OK. She's going to pick someone who speaks French, you know."

"I'd hope so. Let's keep the language alive."

She laughs and I rub her back and hum until she falls asleep. An hour later, I ease her back onto the pillows and head back downstairs.

Just in time. Michael's back and facing off against Mère and Jack, while Chase watches. He's losing.

"Mère. Jack."

Mère sighs in relief. "Robert. Good. Throw him out."

I kiss her cheek. "Nope. This is his home. He has a right to be here. Perhaps you guys should leave and I can inform him."

Mère and Jack look at me like I've just betrayed them, but I'm watching Michael. He's swallowing hard. He'd rather fight with Mère and Jack. I see the moment Jack realizes that.

"Yes, that's a good idea. Mère? Let's go."

Mère's still confused, but she finally returns to the sofa and steps into her heels. "Michael, this is unacceptable—"

"Mère." I raise a brow and jerk my head to the door. She leaves, giving Michael the ugly side eye the entire time.

I join my asshole brother-in-law at the window and watch my mother and sister pull off. Michael's clearly ready to bolt at the slightest temptation.

"Calm down," I murmur, amused. "I'm not going to hit you."

"Why not? No witnesses."

A throat is cleared behind us.

"You forgot Chase was standing there?" I chuckle.

"Clearly he did," Chase says, stepping forward to join us. He waves at Mère as she pulls off.

I finally turn to him. "I'm not going to hit you because my sister loves you and I love her and my nieces. So, for the sake of family unity, my fists are sheathed."

He looks at Chase, who shrugs. "I'm waiting on the outcome of this. I can still make your ass disappear."

I wave to forestall an argument between them. "Nope. Right now, we're going to move my nieces upstairs and get them in bed for their naps. I'm going to check on Gennie again. Then we'll sit and talk like civilized men."

Chase picks up Marcelle gently and heads to the stairs. Michael picks up Michaela and I hit the kitchen, find a liter of water and check on Gennie.

She stirs. "What's going on?"

"Michael's back."

"Really?" She wakes up fully, but I raise a hand.

"Nope. Let me talk to him first. Trust me?"

She nods. I leave the room and head back downstairs to the kitchen. I check the fridge. There's the makings a good meal here, but I can't figure out what it is.

"Pathetic." I turn. Chase is laughing at me. "Let's hope your new lady teaches you to do more than scramble an egg."

"There's a restaurant open somewhere."

He laughs and starts pulling stuff from the fridge. I grab pots and pans at his direction and start chopping and dicing as he instructs.

"What do you think is taking so long?"

Chase points to the phone. It's engaged. "If he's smart? He's calling a friend and telling them to call here in an hour. If he doesn't answer, call the cops."

My lip curls. "Does he think we're amateurs?"

"Yes."

We share a look of amusement before returning to food prep. Michael finally joins us and I slide a knife and an onion his way.

"Cut in half, slice into half rings," Chase instructs. "Dinner is a chicken stir-fry."

"Les did one a few days ago. Excellent."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You want to change?" I ask Michael. "I mean, I admire the dedication, but I come home and get comfortable."

"I only stopped to get a change of clothes," he says stiffly.

I nod. "Go get comfortable. We need to talk."

"Look, I don't appreciate this shit! I don't need the whole Brown family in my business—"

"Michael, at the moment, I'm keeping the entire Brown family out of your business," I cut him off, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm protecting your ass and the only thing I'm asking for right now is for you to get comfortable and share a meal with your brother- and cousin-in-law. Can you manage that? Or am I asking too much?"

He stares at us, clearly hostile, before finally putting the knife down and stripping off his shirt on the way out of the room.

"What are you planning?"

"To talk," I reply. "Call Lawrence. Tell him dinner's over here tonight. Just him. Leave Jack and the boys at home."

I leave the room and make a few calls back to RangeMan, putting myself offline for the evening and possibly tomorrow. When I return to the kitchen, Chase has the frying pan going and Mike's steaming rice. I set the table and find a decent bottle to open.

Chase makes a great stir-fry and I take a bowl, with some rice, up to Gennie and tell her to eat every bit. I'll be back to check on her. She's curious about what's going on downstairs, but I tell her that Michael will tell her.

I get a shaky smile as I leave.

I return downstairs just as my other brother-in-law, Lawrence, arrives. "Mike's here, huh?" he asks, pulling me into a half hug.

"Yeah."

"Plan?"

"To talk."

He raises a brow, but nods. "Jack wants blood."

"Jack needs to stay out of it right now."

I hear a snort behind us and Mike appears. "Lawrence."

"Yo." Mike gets a man hug. "I hear it's just us for dinner tonight."

"Yeah. Had no idea you were coming." Mike is calming and looking at me in confusion.

"I thought it would be good to get us all together. We're all brothers. Let's break bread and talk shit for a minute."

Lawrence laughs. "Well, I brought a bottle," he hands it over, "and my appetite."

"This bottle is shit," Mike says, laughing.

"Fuck you."

We return to the kitchen and sit at the breakfast table. We start slow, football scores, gossip, news, nothing controversial. I want to ease into this.

Michael is eating with gusto and feeling comfortable when I'm finally ready to steer this where I want it to go. I nod and Chase hands me a glass of wine. "So, Michael, it got real, huh?"

He freezes. I'm eating calmly. "What?"

"Shit got real. Wife. Kids. Mortgage. Job. No fun. No random ass anymore. No trips at the drop of a hat." He's staring at me. I nod. "I can't say I understand. I'm not where you are. I don't know what that pressure is like. That's why I wouldn't let Mère and Jack kick your ass."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Neither of you knows. Neither of you gets it," he says, pointing at me and Chase. Lawrence nods. "I married into the Brown family. Fuck. Sometimes I feel like I'm another Brown. Gennie isn't a Gordon. I'm a Brown."

I nod and continue eating. Keep talking, Mike.

"I mean, I know I said the wrong things to Gennie. I love my girls,"—his voice breaks slightly—"but I feel outnumbered sometimes. Three little girls. My beautiful wife. I'm surrounded by bows and ribbons. I'd like to toss a baseball with Michaela, but Gennie acts like that's sacrilege. 'I danced ballet and played soccer.'" He snorts. "I played baseball and who hasn't seen that little girl who tore up the Little League with her pitching?"

"Girl's got an arm on her," Lawrence says. He played baseball from Little League to college.

"Exactly!" Michael's nodding. "I'd like to have some input around here and I never feel like I do. Jack has more input in my home than I do. Maxine has more input than I do. I excelled in contracts law. What was I doing?"

"Civil rights law," Chase says quietly. Lawrence is sitting back, listening carefully. He's an ADA. Law and order runs heavy in our family.

"Right! I wanted a contracts law position, so I went for one. I got it. I come home and tell Gennie and she tells me she's pregnant." He sits back and tosses his napkin on the table. "Fuck my news! Not that I'm not happy about another baby, but for once, just once, goddammit, I'd like to have my shit cheered on! It pays more and hell, Bobby, your father was a contracts law specialist. That's what led him to the bench. But the hours are insane and I come home and Gennie wants me to cook, clean, help with the girls, you name it and I haven't put my briefcase down!"

I flick a glance at Chase and motion for him to get another bottle of wine. Mike's talking and it's as if a dam has broken. He's twisting the end of his napkin and breathing heavy and damn if I don't understand where he's coming from, but I see it's really striking a chord with Lawrence. I thought it might and Mike needs to feel he's not being ganged up on.

"Now she's on bed rest and I'm just fucking stuck because that means Mère's moving in, I know, and I can't stand seeing her face looking at me like 'You are pathetic and not worthy of my daughter'. I'm trying! I'm trying to be worthy and you know, with your mother, it's all about the money."

He looks at me accusingly and I shrug. "I can't deny that financial stability is important to Mère." But what matters more is that you're busting your ass to support her daughter, dummy. Not just financially, but emotionally too.

"I get that." He lifts his eyes to me. "I know you and Chase think I'm still running around. Don't think I didn't catch that 'random ass' comment earlier. Well, I'm not. I love Gennie, but when Gennie married me she didn't marry money. She married a man who loves her and is willing to work himself into the ground for her. Yes, I fucked my way all around college. I did my dirt. I had my fun. When I married, that was it because I saw my dad have affairs all the time. I saw what that did to my Mom. I swore I'd never do that."

I nod silently. Well, first bit of respect I have for him. It was clear that he meant that.

"Sometimes, it's like the Browns expect me to maintain Gennie at the level she was at when she was her father's responsibility. Well, Père had years to build up the money and influence he has. Right now? I'm not there yet, but I'm trying to get that. I'm busting my ass for my wife."

"I feel you there, son," Lawrence says softly. "My wife out earns me. I took my job because I love it, but I've accepted that I don't make Robert E. Brown the Second money." He glances at me. "And I damn sure don't make Robert E. Brown the Third money."

They chuckle mirthlessly. I flip them both off. Chase is laughing.

"I work for this fucker and don't make Robert E. Brown the Third money!" They all howl in amusement at that.

"Bobby, I swear, you fuck up the curve!" Lawrence says, clutching his chest. "You always have the money to throw at a problem! Every woman wants a husband like you and every momma wants her daughter to find someone like you. I can't wait to meet the chick you bring home!"

"Mère, Jack, and Gennie will tear her to shreds if she isn't perfect!" Mike crows.

I flip them all off. If only they knew …

"Right. Now, don't think I'm not compared to you, Bobby," Mike says, calming down and resting his arms on the table. "Bobby, the decorated Army Ranger. The business owner. Multiple branches in his business, cut body, expensive cars, house in Ansley fucking Park. This house? I wanted to live in Camp Creek, but Gennie acted like that was unacceptable just because it was outside 285. Now? That's one of the hottest areas in Atlanta and it was affordable for us when I wanted to buy in. This place? It's expensive. Now, I admit, it's the perfect location to keep our commutes short, it's close to everything cultural and the schools are the best, but honestly? I'd prefer Camp Creek and private schools."

"Yeah, but you'd end up with an hour plus long commute," Lawrence mutters. "That'll tear you down fast."

"How much of this have you said to Gennie?" Chase asks.

"I've tried!" he cries. "I've tried, but there's always a distraction and then, once we talk, Gennie asks Mère, Père, Jack, you, every fucking body. We can't make a decision. It's decision by Brown committee!"

"Then stop," Chase says. "We don't want to hear anymore. This is the discussion you need to have with Gennie."

Lawrence nods.

"Now, let me say what I have to say." I push the plate away and stare at him. "Grow the fuck up."

Mike and Lawrence freeze.

Chase refills his wine glass. "You have an excuse for everything. You aren't living where you want to live? Did you sign the mortgage? Yeah? Then you agreed. You went into civil rights law? You clocked the hours? Gennie didn't hold a gun to your head and make you do it. You decided to do it. Not every shit thing that happens in your life is my cousin's fault and it's definitely not my family's fault."

"Now, don't get us wrong. We are Browns. We know what the pressure is like." Chase and I share a grin. "Mère might brag on her son, the Army Ranger, but she expected to have a Wall Street tycoon. She expected to have a doctor. She expected to have a Marine, I mean, if I just had to put on a uniform. Olive drab?" I roll my eyes. "It's just so … plebeian."

Mike snorts, almost against his will. Lawrence hides a laugh.

Chase picks up. "It was expected that I would be a lawyer. I was supposed to join my dad at his practice. Police Academy? My dad spends 25% of his time filing lawsuits against every police department in the metro area. You think that's why my promotions kept getting blocked?"

"Might have had something to do with it," Lawrence says, hiding another grin.

"Damn right it did, but my dad's job is to speak out against abuses in the system. My job was to maintain law and order. At the end of the day, we both wanted the same thing, so we respected each other's positions."

"If the influence the family has in your private life is a problem, then the person you need to handle that with is upstairs on bed rest. Running away and spending nights with your boys won't solve that problem, but it will piss every Brown off. I mean, seriously! Did you think that through? Did you just think you'd run and none of us would find out?"

Chase and I stare at Mike. I'm trying to keep my voice low because I really want to tear into him, but I don't want Gennie to be tempted to tip toe downstairs. I haven't heard her moving around yet.

Lawrence wipes his mouth and shakes his head. "Hey, I'd like to back you here," he says quietly, "but even I have to admit, my first thought was 'Bastard!'" Mike reaches for his wineglass and swallows a mouthful. "I mean, you left your eight months pregnant, ready-to-pop-any-day-now wife here telling her that you couldn't handle it?" He snorts and shakes his head. "Honestly, when Chase called, I thought I was coming over here to help construct an alibi and take you to the hospital while they cleaned up the evidence."

Chase and I share a look. Lawrence could be useful in the future.

"So you came over here to yell at me too?" Mike says, his jaw clenched. He's moving back into 'angry'.

Lawrence raises his hands in a placating gesture. "That was a bitch move, bro, and you'll never be forgiven for it. You think you have it hard now? The Browns will never let you forget what happened today. At best, everyone'll move on because they love Gennie and the girls, but they'll never forget that you tried to bail on your pregnant wife." Lawrence looks at me and Chase. "And you know the family line on responsibility."

"I know," he mutters.

"Not to mention"—Mike looks back up at me—"let's be real here: a man who loves his woman makes it his goal in life to make loving him easy. Every man at the table can speak on this."

"Amen," Lawrence and Chase raise their wine glasses.

"You and Gennie both have high powered jobs. You work long hours. You come home tired and want to relax? I don't blame you—"

"Yeah, and I don't think it's a crime to do that. When I get home, I just need five minutes to myself before Gennie starts bombarding me! It's not that I won't help. Just, damn, five minutes. Let me put the briefcase down, take a leak, and breathe!"

"Fine. Tell Gennie that."

"I did and she kicked me out today!"

"Yeah, well, you also a lot of other shit. That's what got you in trouble," Lawrence mutters into his wineglass.

I point at Lawrence. "You have these problems with Jack?"

"Hell no. Put my foot down right after I proposed and your mother tried to railroad us into the wedding of the century."

"But you made it clear that you and Jack were a partnership?"

"Yeah."

I turn to Mike. "Take lessons from ya boy here. Your partner is upstairs. You need to start with Gennie and let Gennie handle Mère. Now, speaking of stupid shit you said, you made three baby girls. Whose sperm was that?"

Mike's ears turn bright red. Lawrence tips his chair back and laughs.

Chase snickers. "Our understanding of biology has progressed since Henry VIII, Mike. Your lack of sons is your fault." He pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket. "If you wanna try for a boy, here's some tips to get your boy swimmers in the lead. Or you might want to talk to Lawrence here, but what happens is all on you."

"Thanks," he mutters, embarrassed.

"And if you want to throw a baseball with Michaela, do it." Lawrence shakes his head. "Those are your daughters. You have the right to make some decisions too."

"Yeah. Aunt Max might have put us in … ballet"—Chase and I make a face while Mike and Lawrence snicker—"but Uncle Emmanuel put us in martial arts and we loved that. We were happy to go to those lessons and what we learned in ballet helped us in martial arts.

Now, here's the secret, in case you haven't figured it out." Mike leans in close. "Aunt Max will put up a fuss to see if you truly stand behind what you're saying or if you're waffling." I nod. Chase got it exactly right. "If you mean what you say and you're ready to stand behind your decision, she backs down. Otherwise, she'll wear you down to either follow her advice or make up your damn mind."

I raise a glass in silent salute to my mother. Mère was a 'tiger mother' before that phrase ever became popular. More than anyone else, she made me the person I am today because Mère will test your resolve. Only the strong survive. Tank crumbles during each encounter with my mother, Ranger tries his best to stay out of her way, and she's probably ready to adopt Les. I swear, I can't wait to see how Hector will react to her. Given his love and ambitions for Mijo, he'll probably see my mother as a kindred spirit.

"Now here's what we're going to do," I add. "I'm throwing money at the problem for a while, since that's my specialty." I flip Lawrence off. He smiles. "You and Gennie both, you need a breather, Mike. I'm not your enemy. I care about my sister and I care about you. I care about my nieces. Understood?" He nods. "I'm taking the girls tonight. They'll be at Ansley. I'll keep them until you, not Gennie, not Mère, you call me to tell me you're ready for them to come home."

He nods again, looking relieved.

"So that takes care of Mère moving in and they'll be close by. I'll call Mère tonight and tell her to stay away, no phone calls, no dropping in, until I call her back. Lawrence, you do the same with Jack and if she has questions, call me." I put my hand on Mike's shoulder and squeeze tight. "What did I say at the beginning of this evening? That I'd keep the Brown family out of your business, right?"

"Right," he mutters.

"I'm coming through on that. I'll keep everyone back to give you time and space to talk to your wife. You and Gennie need to talk about everything. Put everything on the table before this baby is born—"

Lawrence cuts me off. "If you two can't afford to live here in Morningside, move! Find a house you can afford on one salary, just in case something happens. We did and you better believe Mère put up a fuss about us moving to Northwest Atlanta, but I didn't give a fuck! I told her I paid the mortgage. If Père wanted to pay my mortgage, we'd live where they wanted us to, but since it's my job to put a roof over my family's head, we'd live where I could afford it." He squeezes Mike's other shoulder. "You got a job you love? Great. No more decision by Brown committee. Bobby's gonna help with that. Hell, Jack and I will babysit. No prob. My mother lives with us so we have help." He shakes his head. "So much for sex in the kitchen."

"Did not want to know that!" Chase says, gagging. I'm making a face too and Mike's laughing his ass off.

"Look, I do understand what it's like to stand up to Mère and Père," I tell Mike. "I've been frustrating Mère for years because I won't bend to her will. Now, I told Gennie I'd get her a maid and au pair. The maid will arrive Monday and I'll task Mère with finding you an au pair."

He starts to object, but I cut him off. "The maid was because I didn't want Gennie trying to kill herself making this house 'perfect'"—I finger quote it and he nods—"before the baby is born. The au pair is my gift for the birth of my new niece. That's what I told Gennie, that's what I'm telling you. Six months of help so you and Gennie can take care of the new baby while someone else cares for Michaela and Marcelle. If you like her and want to keep her, you pay for her after that."

He sniffs to clear his nose and nods. "Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome." I gather all the dishes. "Look, I asked Lawrence to come over here because Jack and I told Gennie that might be your issue. You guys married in the family. You want to talk to someone who'll understand? Call him, but don't run. Running pisses everyone off."

Lawrence nods. "He's right. We married in and we know what it's like to be related to these overachievers." He and Mike share another smile. "You need someone to shoot the shit with who understands and won't say a word? Call me. Jack and I got Adam home and I looked around and I did the same thing you did, except I didn't leave home." Mike sits up, ready to protest, but Lawrence raises a hand, smiling. "Jack woulda kicked my ass up and down I-75 if I pulled the shit you did. I walked around for days like 'Is this really my fucking life?' I love my sons but, like you, I only get bits and pieces of my wife's attention now."

Chase and I snicker and clear the table as Lawrence continues. The guys grab everything else and I start stacking the dishwasher.

"Gennie? You're wife's calmer. She loves you and she's not going to overreact, but everyone around her will. She's the baby and they're protective of her. So I'm going to say this now, in front of Bobby and Chase, because I mean it." He leans closer to Mike. "You and Gennie? You and her need to make a promise that your business, your lives? Your business. Jack does not have a vote. Neither does Mère, Père, Bobby, Chase, no one. The Brown committee has to get out of your lives and if I were you, I'd stand firm on that. You married her, not the entire damn family."

"Which is why I don't want to know all your business," I add. "Don't tell me anything that will cause me to want to break you limb to limb."

"Besides, we were really insulted earlier," Chase says. "If we wanted to dispose of you, no one would ever find you." He glances at Lawrence. "Either of you. Notice the cops haven't shown?"

All the color drains from Mike's face. We've been talking for three hours. The cops never came. Chase called them off by telling them we, RangeMan, were here with him.

He's shocked. We smile coldly. Lawrence shakes his head and gives Mike a wry smile.

Yeah, you guys married my sisters, but they were born Browns. They'll always be Browns and no one, no one, will screw them over. But as long as you treat them right and they're happy, I'll support and back you.

Just remember: Keep my sisters happy or you'll wish you had.

I keep my nieces for four days, a record really. Mère moves into my home to help me care for them and Mère and Paris finally meet as mother of Bobby and girlfriend of Bobby.

I'm dating one of her favorite restaurateurs? Mère is in heaven.

I'm the son of one of her favorite customers? Paris is equally thrilled.

These two have ganged up to 'manage' me? I'm not so thrilled, but I like that they already like each other.

Mère brings over the necessities to make Poulet avec sauce à la moutarde (Chicken with Mustard sauce) and Salade aux Lardons (Salad with Bacon). Paris offers to assist, but Mère waves her off.

"No, no, I'm sure you've had a long day at your restaurant. I'm no chef, but I would be honored to prepare a meal for you."

Paris blushes. "Then I'll select a wine."

They chat as Mère cooks, occasionally correcting Michaela's French and coaxing Marcelle's halting attempts. I sit on my stool and watch. I love this. My mother and girlfriend like each other, my precious nieces are happy and smiling, this is wonderful. I share a glance with Paris and she blushes. I wonder if her thoughts were heading where mine are.

We sit down to Mère's excellent meal and I break open a bottle of sparkling grape juice so the girls feel like they're drinking 'wine' too. Michael's call comes right in the middle of the meal, so I tell him I'll drop the girls off once they've eaten and had a bath.

"Are they going to stay together?" Mère asks, a moue of distaste on her face.

"Yes." I flick a glance at the girls and she leaves the subject alone. Once the girls have finished eating, Paris volunteers to take them upstairs so I can speak to Mère.

"They're staying together. Look, I know that Michael might not have been our choice for Gennie's husband—"

"Might not?" Mère mutters, looking at the floor.

"I know that, but consider this." I tilt her face up to me. "I'm dating Paris, not Alicia as you wanted. I made the decision that would make me happy."

"Yes, but Paris is a wonderful young lady! Ambitious, beautiful, smart—"

"And Alicia's not?" Mère is quiet. "Right. On the surface, the two seem similar, interchangeable, but they aren't. Paris has fire to her. She challenges me. She won't let me skate on shit. Alicia?" I raise a brow. "Was someone eager to see me start making babies?"

Mère's lips twitch. "No …"

"God will get you for lying."

She laughs. "Well, I knew she was ready for that stage in her life. Is Paris?"

"Doesn't matter. Babies are a decision for me and my wife, not my family, and I have to marry the right person for me, not you. Gennie did the same thing. She married a man she loves. No, he wasn't the person we all thought she should marry, but I'll give him this: he busts his ass for my sister. They live where she wants to live, they have three daughters, and he has a job that will support his family. OK, he made a mistake a few days ago—"

"A mistake!" Mère looks scandalized. "Robert, he ran out on his family!"

"I do recall someone telling Père that he needed to decide if he wanted a wife or a maid." I raise a brow and Mère's jaw drops.

"That is not the same."

"Really? You threatened to leave him on his own with three kids." I raise a brow. "Sounds like the same thing to me. You reached a breaking point and were ready to run—"

"But I didn't run! I wanted your father to get his act together!"

"That's what Mike wants." Mère looks astonished. "Mike wants Gennie to listen to him, be a wife to him, stop telling her family all of their business"—Mère blushes—"and celebrate his achievements just like he supports and celebrates hers. Gennie's gotten so wrapped up in being a mother that she forgot to be a wife."

"Robert …" Mère mutters.

"Yeah. He left the marital home to gain some perspective and clear his head before he cracked and truly left her—" I raise a hand to forestall the argument— "Yes, I know it's not fair. I planned payback."

She calms. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm sending Gennie and Jack on a 14-day cruise around your anniversary." She looks confused. "You'll be out of town, the wives will be gone, and I'll be unavailable. Let's see how my brothers-in-law handle being Mr. Mom for two weeks. Once he has a taste of what Gennie had to handle on her own, that should teach Michael to appreciate his wife and never run away again. Lawrence will fare better. His mother lives in their home."

Mère's eyes light up. "Robert, that's positively devious!" She laughs. "I love it but what if he cracks?"

"Then Gennie will see that. No one needs to comment. Gennie will see that her husband isn't really ready for fatherhood."

Mère sobers. "Now I have to pray Michael lives up to expectations."

"Yes, but at the same time, support Michael too. Otherwise, his only support will be his mother." We both make a face. Ms. Gordon is … ghetto, and that's being generous. Ratchet is the term I really want to use.

Mère leaves shortly after and I head upstairs to check on the girls. Paris has gotten them bathed and is dressing them.

"Out! Out!" She yells and I walk out quickly.

"What?"

"We beautiful women are at our toilette. No men allowed!" I hear the giggles of my nieces and smile.

"Fine. I'll await the princesses downstairs."

"Oui." I wait a moment and listen. "See, girls. You must learn how to manage men as soon as you can," she whispers to my nieces. "Good men, like your Oncle Bobby, don't need a lot of management, but it is best to make sure they do not think they have the upper hand. Nothing is more interesting to a man than a woman he cannot understand."

There are more giggles. "Does Oncle Bobby understand you?" Michaela asks, her fingers in her mouth.

"I hope not," she replies. "I try to remain mysterious, like the dark side of the moon."

Got that right. I tiptoe back downstairs and clean the kitchen. Paris appears with the girls and looks around.

"You clean very well."

"Army."

She laughs. "We await our transport."

I sink to my knees in front of Michaela and Marcelle. "Did you have fun with old Oncle Bobby?"

"Yes!" I get two sweet hugs and kisses.

"OK. Well, your Mère and Père miss you, so time to go home."

It's a twenty minute drive to Morningside and Mike's outside as I pull up. "Hey." The girls rush to hug their Père and he smiles and hugs them tight before sending them inside. Once they're in, he turns to me.

"Look, thanks for the help," he mumbles.

"No problem. You and Gennie talk?" He nods. "You clear?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "You know a realtor? We're selling this house."

"Moving to Camp Creek?"

He snorts. "Nah. Still didn't win that fight, but we're going to buy something we can afford on one salary. My salary."

They'll have to move outside 285. I hope Gennie's prepared to stand her ground with Mère on that, but it's a good idea. If Mike can afford it on his own, Gennie would be able to.

"Good." I clap his back and smile. "Again, call Lawrence when you need someone to talk to. Call me if you need help getting everyone out of your business. And talk to Gennie. That's your partner. I loved having the girls. Let me have them more often."

He snorts. "I think I can promise you that, Bobby." He squeezes my hand tight. "Thanks, bro. Really appreciate the help."

I climb back in my car and head back to Ansley. Les is on my mind. Seems like everyone around me is cracking under the pressure. Les, Steph, Mike, Hector … I'm glad that vacation mandate is still in place at RangeMan. I need to send an email out and encourage the men to schedule theirs. Everyone needs a break. Maybe I can encourage the men with families to schedule breaks around school holidays and summer vacations and—

"Earth to Robert."

Paris is in my robe at the bottom of the stairs. Moments later, the robe is on the floor and she's palming her breast.

"The bed is cold."

I begin stripping. "Let me see what I can do." I capture that eager looking nipple and smile at her sigh.

I needed to do something. What was it? My head is filled with the sweet smell of arousal and honeysuckle.

Oh well. Hopefully, I'll remember in the morning.