Page 17 of His Forever

The woman raised an eyebrow but smiled politely. “Nice to meet you, Brynn. I’m Bristol.” So this was the woman who’d been worrying about Leo. There was something about the way she said it, like she knew exactly what she meant to him and wasn’t threatened by me in the least.

I forced myself to smile back. “Nice to meet you too.”

Bristol wasn’t what I’d expected. She had an easy confidence about her, the kind that came from being in a place long enough to know where you fit. And right now, I had no idea where I fit in all this.

“You want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot,” Bristol offered, turning back to the kitchen counter.

“Sure,” I replied, even though coffee was the last thing I wanted. I needed to keep my hands busy, though. I was starting to feel like a guest in a life I wasn’t supposed to be part of.

As Bristol poured, a younger woman from the group at the table came over, her eyes scanning me up and down. She was tall and striking, with sharp, dark eyes. She hugged Leo and then turned to me. “I’m Tatum.”

Murphy moved over to her, and he put his arm around her waist. Ah, she was Murphy’s woman. They looked great together.

“Nice to meet you, Tatum,” I said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t sure what to make of me yet.

Murphy whispered something in her ear, and her eyes sharpened.

What did he tell her?

A loud peal of baby laughter rang through the kitchen, followed by the quick patter of small feet on the hardwood floor. My head snapped in the direction of the sound just in time to see a toddler burst into the room, giggling as he ran. A man in a leather cut followed close behind him, his face flushed from the chase.

“Mama!” the baby squealed, making a beeline for Bristol.

Bristol, with a wide smile, crouched down, holding her arms open wide for the little boy. He threw himself into her embrace, and she scooped him up effortlessly, swinging him into her arms with a warmth that caught me off guard.

Wait…Bristol was Mama?

“I tried to keep him in the backyard to wear him out for his nap,” the man in the leather cut said, slightly out of breath. “But he wanted Mama.” He smiled fondly at the two of them, ruffling the little boy’s hair.

I blinked, my mind working overtime to piece it all together. I had assumed—wrongly, as it turned out—that Bristol was Leo’s woman. But now she stood in front of me with a baby on her hip who very clearly resembled the man in the leather cut. I glanced over at Leo, expecting to see some flicker of discomfort or surprise, but he looked completely at ease, as though this scene was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Bristol is married to Pie,” Leo said, noticing my confusion. He gestured toward the man in the cut. “And that’s baby Duke.”

I blinked again, trying to process it all. Bristol… wasn’t Leo’s woman. She was married to the guy standing next to her, the man called Pie, and the baby was their son. My brain felt like it was catching up on delayed information, pieces falling into place one by one.

“She’s the chef,” Leo added with a small smile, like everything should’ve been clear all along.

Good lord, I thought, feeling the tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying ease from my shoulders. Bristol was the chef, not Leo’s woman. And she had been worried about him because, apparently, she cared about him in the same way she probably cared for everyone in this house. Maybe that was why she’d been baking nonstop. The thought actually made me smile. Of course, she was the chef.

“Good freaking lord,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head at myself.

As if on cue, Leo nodded toward two other women who had been quietly watching. “That’s Kitty,” he said, gesturing toward a petite woman with curly brown hair. “She’s with Princeton and lives here, too.” Kitty gave me a friendly wave from her spot by the island. “And that’s Jada,” Leo continued, indicating a striking woman with pretty long hair and a confident air about her. “Somehow Creed managed to lock her down, don’t ask me how.”

Jada smiled warmly; her eyes sparkling as she waved. “Nice to meet you,” she said in a voice that immediately put me at ease.

Kitty pointed to an older man seated at the table. “And this is my dad, Larry.”

Larry, a grizzled man with kind eyes, grinned at me from across the room, a giant cinnamon roll in front of him. He looked like he was in heaven as he took a bite, his expression practically glowing.

“He knows how good Bristol’s cinnamon rolls are,” Kitty laughed. “I’m sure he’ll talk your ear off later, but right now, he’s busy.”

I nodded politely, my gaze drifting over the room. Kitty and Jada were clearly more welcoming than Tatum had been. The difference in how they treated me was palpable, and it made me relax a little. At least not everyone was holding me at arm’s length.

“Cinnamon roll?” Bristol offered, holding out a plate toward Leo and me. The scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted up, tempting me.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for one. Leo grabbed one too, and we moved toward the table, settling in.

The room hummed with conversation as everyone resumed their chatter. Despite the warmth and laughter around me, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I didn’t really belong here. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other, like they were part of this unspoken, tight-knit circle, and I was just an outsider peeking in through the glass.

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