Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Thankfully, the conversation changes to Monroe’s baby shower, which somehow leads to Brogan telling them that our birthday is next weekend.
“We have to celebrate,” Monroe tells us.
“My place or yours?” Emerson asks her.
“We’ll figure it out and let you all know. Bring a side dish. We’ll handle the meat and the birthday cake,” Monroe replies.
“What?” I laugh. “No, you don’t have to do this.”
“We want to. That’s what friends are for.” Maggie shrugs.
I part my lips to argue, and Emerson shakes her head. “Nope. It’s happening. We celebrate all the small things to all the large things. Birthdays are a part of that. Next Saturday night, you four better be there. Monroe and I will get all the details worked out and let everyone know the time and location.”
Brogan lifts her lips, pulling up into a grin.
“Thank you,” I concede.
The rest of the night, we talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company. I only text Forrest a few times, and each time he sends a picture back of the girls. They’re having the time of their lives, and it makes me happy to know he’s doing that for them.
“I better go get the girls.”
“I’ll walk with you to get Lilly,” Emerson tells me. “Roman is over there with them.”
“You should have told us. We’ve overstayed our welcome.”
“No, you most certainly did not. He’s got our little girl, his best friend, and your girls to keep him company. He’s fine. He knew I was having girls’ night here tonight.”
I follow her out the front door as she leads the way to Forrest’s house next door. She doesn’t knock as she pushes open the door and steps inside. The house is quiet, and I start to worry until I bump into Emerson, where she’s standing just outside of the living room. Moving to stand beside her, my heart melts at the sight before me.
Roman is asleep in the chair with Lilly on his chest. Forrest is on the couch with a twin on either side. He has his arms wrapped around them, holding them close, as if he’s afraid to let them go.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Emerson reaches over and grabs my hand. “This. This is why you trust him,” she murmurs. “He’ll love them with all he has. He’ll love you with that same intensity.”
“It’s a little soon to talk about love,” I mumble.
“Just let it happen, Briar. I don’t know what’s in your past—and if you ever want to tell me, I’m here for you—but I can tell you it doesn’t matter. Trust me. Forrest and I are the last people to judge someone for their past or where they came from.” With that, she drops my hand and steps into the room. She moves to Roman and runs her hands through his hair. His eyes pop open, but they soften when they land on his wife.
“Baby girl,” he rumbles as he slides his palm behind her neck and kisses her.
I move to the couch and sit next to River, who is sitting to the left of Forrest. The urge to take a picture to remember this moment is strong, but I hold back.
“We’ll see you at ours. You need help carrying them over?” Emerson asks.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Roman asks.
“I got it,” a deep, gruff voice replies.
I whip my head around to see Forrest’s eyes on me.
“Hey, Momma.” He smiles. After lifting his hand, he palms my cheek. “How was your night?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Perfect. This house is too big, too empty. It was nice to have it full again.”
“Thank you for watching them.”
“Thank you for letting me.” He manages to stand and not wake the girls. He lifts his index finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet as he does. Once he’s on his feet and it’s obvious the girls are not going to wake up, he offers me his hand and I take it, allowing him to help me stand. I follow him to the kitchen.
“What are we—” I’m cut off when Forrest spins, grips my hips, and lifts me to sit on the kitchen island.
His hands cradle my cheeks, and he moves in close. My legs open for him without question, allowing him to be close. So close I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me now.”
I do. I do want him to kiss me. But— “I might be bad at it.”
Forrest shakes his head. “Impossible.”
“The last time I was kissed, really kissed, I was eighteen, and I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I get to show you. I get to be the one to make you realize that you’re not bad at it. Just me. You’re only going to be kissing me.”
“Just you, huh?” I ask. I try to hide my smile, but it’s no use.