Page 171 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
Ava looks at me with soft, unwavering certainty.
The officiant begins speaking, but I barely hear it. My focus is locked on her, on us.
Any nerves I had melt away like ice under the sun.
This is it.
Ava’s hand trembles slightly as she takes mine, and I squeeze gently, grounding us both.
The officiant gives us a nod. I take a breath and begin.
“Ava,” I say, my voice already thick. “I’ve been looking out for you since we were kids, back when you’d trail after us with a book in your hands… And now here we are, writing our own story together.”
Ava’s shoulders shake, her eyes glistening.
“You brought light back into my life when I didn’t even know I needed it. You made me believe in a future I thought I’d lost.”
I swallow hard, trying to hold steady.
“You are my friend, my family, and the love of my life. I promise to keep choosing you, every single day. To protect you, stand beside you, and build this messy, beautiful life together with the boys, our new baby, and all the chaos that comes with it.”
Ava’s tears spill over, and she laughs softly, nodding like she’s feeling every word right along with me.
She draws a shaky breath, then starts.
“Jackson,” she says, her voice trembling but sure. “I spent so long believing I had to earn love, to shape myself into someone else's idea of perfect. You showed me what it feels like to be chosen exactly as I am.”
She pauses, smiling through the tears.
“You’ve always been my protector, my safe place. Thank you for seeing me, for believing in me, for loving every part of this wild life we’re building.”
She smiles through her tears. “I promise to stand with you, to raise our family with all the love and laughter this world can hold.”
A small rustle beside us: Noah leans a bit too far forward, nearly tipping over. Liam grabs him just in time, both of them letting out giggles that ripple through the guests.
Ava laughs too, wiping at her cheeks, and even I chuckle. The tension breaks, replaced with something warm and effervescent.
The officiant pauses, smiling faintly.
“And now, Jackson, do you—”
“I do,” I blurt, too fast to wait. Laughter erupts around us.
The officiant turns to her, amusement crinkling his eyes. “Ava?”
“I do,” she says, steady and sure.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I pull her in, one hand cradling her jaw. Her hands clutch my shoulders as we kiss: deep, certain, the culmination of every step that brought us here.
Cheers erupt all around us, the boys yelling loudest of all.
I pull back, both of us laughing, breathing hard, eyes wet with tears.
Later, after the cake’s been cut, Jenna stands to give the first toast: glass in hand, eyes shining as she looks between us.
“To Ava,” she begins, her voice clear and full of emotion. “Who has always been braver than she knows, and stronger than she ever gives herself credit for. And to Jackson: thank you for seeing her, for loving her in that big, unwavering way we all prayed she’d find.”
