Both Caroline and Beth had never showed. But still, the family birthday party was a huge success, they sang Red happy birthday, exchanged stories, and laughed loudly whenever Cole would make up a drinking a game.

Caroline had called Red, telling him that she'd be there first thing in the morning, with a gallon of orange juice, and his favorite movie, Weekend at Bernie's. Apparently, when being pregnant, morning sickness also tended to be afternoon sickness, and night sickness.

But Beth never called.

And that part hadn't surprised Red one bit. But one part in the very pit of his being, still wished that would've at least sent a text.

The sadness didn't last long, though. With Beverly at his side, giving him the occasional kiss at the cheek, and rubbing the base of his shoulders with his tiny, needy fingers.

"My mom wants me to move back down here," Red whispered into Beverly's ear. "How do you feel about that?"

"About moving down here—with you?" Red nodded without hesitation, his lips curling at the sight of Beverly's cheeks heating. "I mean, that would be great. I have absolutely no life back in New Jersey, and your family is amazing. Today, they welcomed me in with open arms. Not even caring, that I'm not family."

"You are family." Red persisted. "You're my family."

Beverly smiled, leaning up to curl both arms around Red's neck. "And you're my family, Matthew."

"So, that's that? We're moving down here?" Red asked, his lips grinning down at Beverly happy, carefree expression. And with one look, had never felt so much love. Other than whenever he's with his mother.

"Damn straight."

The rest of the evening went by smoothly, Cole, of course, being the brother to get hammered in the middle of a family event, and Nick disappearing halfway through.

By the end of the night, only Monica, Gina were left. Until Monica explained that she needed to get back to her husband, who'd been absent the whole evening, and her German Shepherd, Spike.

This was when Gin pulled Beverly into a corner, and handed him a bottle of water, and a seemingly homemade cookie. "It's so wonderful to meet someone who makes my son genuinely happy. And I hope that moving back here won't be too much of a nuisance."

Beverly waved her off, "I lived here in New York before I lived with Matthew. So, it won't be too much of an adjustment. And plus, one of my favorite Italian restaurants is near here."

"Oh, wonderful!" Gina beamed, "maybe, we can check it out sometime?"

"That would be great, I can't wait to get to know you, and all of your family better." Beverly exasperated, not being able to contain his joy any longer.

"And we can't wait to get to know you better, either, Beverly." And suddenly, she's holding her arms out, a silent question for a hug.

Beverly immediately leans in, enveloping himself in the smell of a mother. A good, woman who'd always been there for her kids no matter what. Even when her husband left all those years ago, and all Red and his siblings had was her.

She was there.

And Beverly hadn't felt this kind of motherly love—ever. It wasn't that Norma felt absolutely no love for her only child, but it was the fact that whenever she was there, she wasn't really there, but always high.

And it wasn't until now, that Beverly was able to forget about it, for one split second.

The two lied side by side on Red's childhood bed, Beverly leg overlapping Red's, and his head and curls sprawled out on his chest. "I love your family."

"They loved you, too."

Beverly let out a chuckle, his voice a bit muffled by the material of Red plain t-shirt. "Hopefully."

Red ignored the last comment, watching as Beverly got deeply lost in thought, his forehead creasing, and lips turning into an unattractive frown.

Red gripped his chin. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, I just haven't been this happy in a really, really long time. My life's been a bit shit since I was born." Red nodded in understanding, although not being able to grasp onto exactly where Beverly was coming from.

Because of what kind of family Red came from, he'd never understand the loneliness. The mother and father you'd never get to see—well, except for his father being a dead beat he wished to never see again.

And Beverly was happy he didn't it understand, because now, the two had each other, and Beverly would never, ever feel that way again.