Page 95 of Worth the Fall

"Not a chance." I take her hand, bringing it to my lips to press a kiss to her palm. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

She smiles, and it's like every cliché in every love song I've ever heard. My heart skips a beat, my breath catches, and I'm lost in her all over again.

"I love you," she says simply.

"I love you more."

She laughs. "Not possible."

"Very possible." I set my wineglass down, turning to face her fully. "Mia, I… There aren't words for what you mean to me. What you've brought to my life, to Felicity's life."

Her eyes shine in the glow of the fairy lights. "Miguel…"

"I mean it," I press on, needing her to hear this. "You've taken every broken piece of me and helped put me back together. You've loved my daughter like she's your own. You've made us a family."

A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach up to brush it away with my thumb.

"So yes," I say softly. "I love you more. I'll love you more every day for the rest of our lives."

She surges forward, capturing my lips with hers. The kiss is salty from her tears, but it's perfect. She's perfect.

We stay there for a long while, trading soft words and even softer kisses as the stars twinkle above us. It's a moment suspended in time, a perfect snapshot of this life we're building together.

A life filled with laughter and chaos and the kind of love I never thought I'd find again.

But here, with Mia in my arms and the promise of forever stretching out ahead of us?

I've never been happier to be proven wrong.

CHAPTER 21

Mia

"So," Becca says, sliding into our usual booth at Noble Coffee with that look in her eye that usually means she's up to something. "Let's talk bachelorette party plans. I'm thinking Vegas? Or maybe Miami? Somewhere we can really let loose before the big day."

I stare down at my chai latte, trying to find the right words. My stomach does a nervous flip that has nothing to do with the three shots of espresso I've already had today.

"Actually…" I start, then pause, fiddling with my napkin. "I don't think I want a traditional bachelorette party."

Becca's eyes widen like I've just suggested we skip the wedding entirely. "What? But it's your last hurrah! Your final fling before the ring!"

"That's just it," I say quietly, my voice smaller than I intend. I trace the rim of my mug, gathering courage. "When Cameron and I broke up, I lost most of my friends. They were all couples we knew together, people we'd done dinner parties with for years, gone on vacations with. And they just… faded away. Taking sides, I guess, or maybe just not knowing how to handle it."

I look up at Becca, heat pricking behind my eyes. "You and Taylor are the first real friends I've had in years. The kind who are just mine, not part of some couple package deal."

Becca's expression softens, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "Oh, honey."

"I don't need a wild party or a crazy weekend," I continue, the words tumbling out now. "What I'd love is just… a day with my favorite people. You, Taylor, Linda, and Felicity. The women who've become my real support system." I bite my lip, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "Is that totally lame?"

"Are you kidding?" Becca says, already pulling out her phone with that determined gleam in her eye. "That sounds perfect. And honestly? Way more you than doing shots in Vegas while we’re wearing matching 'bride tribe' tank tops."

I laugh, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. "No male strippers jumping out of cakes?"

"Please," she scoffs, typing furiously. "The only cake we'll have will be from that French bakery you're obsessed with. And covered in edible glitter because, let's face it, your flower girl would accept nothing less."

"She does have opinions about proper petal-throwing protocol," I agree, grinning as I remember Felicity's detailed diagram for her grand entrance down the aisle.

The day of my bachelorette celebration arrives sunny and perfect. Felicity practically vibrates with excitement as we enter the restaurant, her new dress—picked specially for the occasion after an hour-long debate about proper brunch attire—swishing around her knees.

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