Page 170 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

Greg is next, weaving through the small clusters of guests. He doesn’t hesitate, just pulls me into a quick, solid hug and slaps my back hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

“Take care of her,” he says gruffly.

I nod, throat thick.

He turns toward the back where their mom is waiting. He offers her his arm and starts to walk her slowly up the aisle, gently guiding her to her seat.

Liam and Noah bounce back toward me, cheeks flushed with excitement. They’re nearly vibrating as I crouch down to straighten their small jackets.

“Ready?” I ask, crouching down.

“We practiced!” Liam says, eyes wide. “We didn’t even fall this time!”

Noah nods fiercely, gripping the tiny pillows with white-knuckled determination. “We’re gonna do it perfect.”

I ruffle their hair, pressing a quick kiss to each forehead. “You’re gonna crush it,” I say.

Behind me, Miss Taylor stands with her hands clasped, her expression soft and a little misty as she watches the boys.

I stand again, glancing toward the entryway. Guests are settling into their seats now, soft murmurs blending with the rustling leaves.

I draw in a slow breath, rolling my shoulders back.

Any second now.

As the last guests settle, my heart hammers slow and deep in my chest. Sunlight cuts through the trees, casting a warm glow over the aisle lined with fall flowers.

I take a breath and let my gaze scan the rows of people. Familiar faces, old teammates, family, friends. Each one is wearing the kind of gentle, knowing smile that feels like an unspoken blessing.

The boys shuffle into place nearby, fidgeting with their small suits, eyes darting everywhere. Russo gives me a mock salute from his seat, and I bite back a laugh.

Then the music changes.

I look up, and there she is.

Ava steps into view, her hand wrapped gently around her father’s arm. Her dress moves like water, soft and elegant, and even from here I can see the slight curve of her bump beneath the fabric. Her free hand hovers protectively over it.

Her dad leans in, saying something only she can hear, and she laughs softly, her eyes shining.

She looks up then, her gaze locking on mine.

Everything else fades away.

It’s just her.

My mind flashes back to all of it: her peeking around corners as a kid with a book in her hands, her vulnerability and quiet strength since she left everything behind, every small moment that led us here.

Ava’s steps are slow but sure as she comes closer, her father pausing just before the front to squeeze her hand one last time. There’s a quiet exchange between them, a nod, a whispered word, and then he lets go.

She closes the last few steps on her own, her eyes never leaving mine.

A wide, unguarded grin breaks across my face. My chest feels full, almosttoofull, of love, relief, and the impossible rightness of this moment.

She finally stops in front of me, her eyes shimmering, the corners of her smile trembling slightly.

“Hi,” she whispers, almost like a secret.

“Hi,” I breathe back, voice low and rough.