Deborah Mello Fletcher

Forever a Stallion


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around the large oak table. “This is my father, Edward Briscoe, and his wife, Juanita. And that handsome guy right there is my husband, John Stallion.”

      Phaedra stared as John came to his feet and shook her hand, his smile warm and inviting. Marah continued down the line.

      “That woman over there who looks like me, but not as cute, is my twin sister, Marla, her husband, Michael, and that cutie pie in her lap is their son, Michael Jr.”

      “Hi,” the toddler said, eagerly waving both hands in Phaedra’s direction.

      “Hi,” Phaedra said, grinning brightly as she waved back at him. “Aren’t you an absolute doll!”

      The little boy laughed happily.

      Marah chuckled softly. “And this is John’s brother Matthew.”

      “He’s mine,” Katrina said as she eased her pregnant body into the seat beside her husband, reaching to kiss his lips as she did.

      Marah shook her head as she went on. “The big guy holding that baby girl there is Mark, and his daughter’s name is Irene.”

      Mark lifted a hand and gave Phaedra a slight wave. “Nice to meet you!”

      “And you probably remember Mark’s wife, Michelle, from the wedding yesterday.”

      “Everyone calls me Mitch,” Michelle said as she adjusted a spit towel over her husband’s shoulder, moving him to lift their baby to his shoulder to burp the air from her tummy.

      “Hi,” Phaedra said softly. “She’s a beautiful baby!”

      Mark grinned. “Thank you. Takes after her daddy!” he said with a wink of his eye.

      Everyone shook their head. Marah continued down the line. “And of course, you remember the bride and groom from yesterday, Luke and Joanne.”

      “Thank you again for everything,” Joanne said as she looped her arm through her new husband’s, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You and Hooper did a great job!”

      Phaedra nodded. “Hooper’s a thrill to work with. I’m glad I was available to assist him.”

      “Well, he certainly speaks very highly of you,” Luke added. “Your reputation preceded you.”

      “Thank you,” Phaedra said.

      “And last but definitely not least,” Marah concluded, gesturing toward the end of the table, “this is Vanessa Long, a dear family friend, and her baby boy, Vaughan.”

      “Hey, hey, hey!” Vanessa said, her baby boy clutched awkwardly beneath her arm as she maneuvered a plate in one hand and a bottle in the other.

      “I declare,” Juanita intoned, moving swiftly to take the baby from Vanessa’s hold. “Girl, you gon’ drop that baby holding him like that!”

      The family laughed, heads shaking.

      “Y’all gon’ make my boy soft the way you keep coddling him,” Vanessa said. “I need to keep him on his toes. If he bounces once or twice, it’ll toughen him up.”

      Juanita gave the woman a swift slap to the back of her head.

      “Ouch, Aunt Juanita!” Vanessa yelled. “That hurt.”

      “Love tap!” the brothers chorused, everyone breaking out into laughter.

      Wide-eyed, Phaedra was suddenly aware of the large hand pressing gently against her lower back, Mason standing comfortably beside her.

      “You look overwhelmed!” he said teasingly. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?”

      She hesitated, her gaze moving along the row of eyes that were staring back at her. Stammering slightly, she shrugged. “I was raised as an only child,” she said, “so this is very different for me.”

      Michelle nodded. “You get used to it,” she said. “I was an only child, too.”

      “So was I,” Joanne echoed.

      “Please, have a seat,” John said, gesturing toward the two empty place settings across from him and Matthew.

      “Thank you,” Phaedra said as Mason guided her to a chair, pulling it out as she took a seat. He dropped into the chair beside her.

      “Ignore this bunch,” John said, meeting Phaedra’s gaze. “They always get out of hand at family breakfast.” His smile was warm and welcoming.

      “You all do this often?” Phaedra questioned, her curiosity piqued.

      “Every Sunday,” John answered. “Once our business went public, Aunt Juanita insisted on it. She felt like we were losing touch with each other.”

      “It was the only way to get them to relax over a meal,” Juanita said, still rocking Vanessa’s baby in the cradle of her arms.

      “We have two rules for family breakfast,” Marah said. “Everyone must show up unless they’re out of town. And there is no business discussed. Ever.”

      “Wow,” Phaedra said, impressed. “And everyone always complies?”

      John nodded. “It’s kept us grounded. Spending a few hours together just being brothers with our families has kept us from taking ourselves too seriously.”

      “So, where are you from, Phaedra?” Luke asked, resting his chin in his hands as he leaned on the table.

      “N’Orleans,” Phaedra answered. She twisted a napkin nervously in her lap.

      “So are we!” Katrina said excitedly. “Or at least that’s where our parents are from. Our father was active army, so we were military brats and traveled around, but the older kids, Mason, Donovan, Kendrick and Kamaya, were all born in New Orleans. I was born in Germany but I can’t tell you where the rest of them were born.”

      Phaedra glanced toward Mason. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

      Mason laughed. “There are nine of us.” He cut an eye at his sister. “Our family meals are quite a bit bigger,” he said, his sister nodding her agreement.

      Phaedra shook her head and laughed, totally in awe of it all.

      Food suddenly appeared out of nowhere, platters of every breakfast item imaginable being passed around the table. Between the food and the fellowship, it was an overabundance of everything. So much so that Phaedra felt as if she were on sensory overload.

      She pushed at the eggs on her plate, her stomach still doing flips as she realized she was actually having breakfast with her brothers. Her brothers. John, Matthew, Mark and Luke. The only family she had left. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then a second before opening them to find John staring at her curiously. She gave him a slight smile, unnerved by the look he was giving her.

      A lanky teenager suddenly entered the room, waving his hand sheepishly at everyone around the table. “Good morning,” he said as he reached for an empty plate. Greetings rang back in his direction.

      “Collin Broomes, you’re late,” Katrina chastised, her eyebrows raised as she massaged a hand over her swollen stomach.

      “Sorry, Mom,” the man-child named Collin answered. “I was helping them muck the stables. It took longer than I expected.”

      “I hope you took a shower,” his mother said, her tone questioning.

      Collin rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m late.” He moved to an empty chair at the kitchen counter, his plate now filled with bacon and toast.

      Matthew chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that before breakfast, son,” he said, pride gleaming from his eyes.

      The teen nodded. “I know, sir, but I wanted to get it out of the way so that I could ride after breakfast. If that’s okay?”

      “That’s