Page 169 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

“It’s happening,” he says firmly. “All of it. You, me, the boys… the baby.” His hand drifts to my stomach, and the warmth in his eyes makes my heart feel too big for my ribs.

I cover his hand with mine, my throat catching as I nod. “I can’t wait to marry you,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

He smiles then, that real, unguarded smile that I’ve always loved most, and leans in to kiss me again.

Around us, the afternoon light softens into gold, the air buzzing with the easy chaos of family and love and all the tiny pieces that make a life.

For a moment, it all feels impossibly simple.

And as I rest my head against Jackson’s shoulder, the boys still shrieking and running circles around us, I realize:

I’m finally exactly where I’m meant to be.

Epilogue One

JACKSON

Afternoon light slants through the window, painting golden stripes across the floor. I stand in the groom’s suite, straightening my tie for what feels like the tenth time.

Outside, leaves rustle: reds, golds, and burnt oranges shifting in the breeze. There’s a crispness in the air that settles into your bones in the best way.

I stare at my reflection, breathing slow. A boyish excitement hums in my veins, so strong it feels like I could float.

For a moment, my mind drifts to Claire. It’s not a heavy ache anymore. Just a soft warmth, like a hand on my shoulder. I can almost hear her teasing me about my tie. Deep down, I feel she’d want this for me: this joy, this future.

A crash jolts me back. I turn to find the boys in their tiny suits, practically vibrating with energy. Russo is crouched beside them, holding what’s left of a boutonniere and wearing a look of amused horror.

“Sorry!” Liam blurts. “We were practicing our serious walk!”

Russo holds up the crushed flower. “Your kids are absolute maniacs, Jacks. I love them.”

I laugh. Miss Taylor appears with a fresh boutonniere and a sigh. “Try not to let them destroy this one, please.”

My mom follows, smoothing the boys’ hair. Her eyes are misty but bright. When she turns to me, she pauses before stepping forward, fixing my tie one last time.

“You look so handsome,” she says. “Your dad would be so proud.”

I swallow hard and cover her hands with mine. “Thanks, Ma.”

Upstairs, I hear a burst of laughter. Ava’s voice mixing with Jenna’s and her mom’s. I picture her there, dark hair curling over her shoulders, probably making jokes to distract herself from the nerves.

A warm certainty settles low in my chest, solid and unmoving.

This is it. This is my family. My forever.

The venue hums with quiet anticipation as guests begin to arrive. The air is cool but pleasant, the breeze stirring the early fall leaves that drift across the lawn like confetti.

Soft music plays in the background, weaving through the quiet greetings and low laughter that echo around the outdoor space.

I scan the rows as guests settle, adjusting my cufflinks even though they’re already straight.

My mom appears first, her steps steady but her eyes already glassy with emotion. She closes the last few feet between us and takes both my hands, squeezing them tight.

“You ready?” she asks, her voice trembling but proud.

I nod once, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Yeah. I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

Her eyes glisten, and she pulls me into a quick, firm hug. When she steps away, she keeps one hand on my cheek for a second longer before moving off to find her seat.