Page 173 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
“I love you, too.”
She presses her head against my chest, and I wrap my arms fully around her, holding her, and the tiny heartbeat between us, as the world goes still.
And in that quiet, I know, this isn’t the beginning. It’s the next page in the life we’ve been building all along.
Our family. Our future. Our forever.
Epilogue Two
AVA
The house is quiet when I wake, the kind of heavy, middle-of-the-night hush that feels almost unreal.
I shift, wincing as a tight wave rolls low through my abdomen. I press a hand to my stomach, breathing slowly, counting it out.
Jackson is still asleep beside me, one arm heavy across my waist, his face soft and peaceful in the moonlight spilling through the curtains.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve imagined this moment: the start of labor, the sudden realness of it all. I thought I’d be terrified. Instead, there’s a strange, steady calm humming under my skin, like my body has known all along that this was coming.
Another contraction builds, a little stronger this time. I shift again, trying not to wake him, but he stirs almost immediately.
His eyes blink open, slow at first, then suddenly alert when he sees my face.
“Ava?” His voice is rough, still thick with sleep.
I manage a small, strained smile. “I think it’s time.”
His eyes widen, then he bolts upright, fully awake, his hand already moving to rest over mine on my stomach. “Are you having contractions?”
I nod, but then gasp involuntarily when another one tightens across my belly. “They’re regular now—closer every time.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, then leans in to press his forehead to mine, his breath warm and steadying. “Okay. We’ve got this. We’re ready.”
I nod, though a shiver runs through me: part excitement, part nerves.
Jackson grabs his phone and calls Miss Taylor, putting her on speaker.
“Ava and I are heading to the hospital.”
“I’ll come stay with the boys,” she says before he even asks. “I’ll get them ready and bring them later.”
“Thank you,” we both say at the same time.
After ending the call, Jackson’s eyes flick to me, softening even more as he squeezes my hand. “Ready to meet our girl?”
A tear slips free, and I nod, my chest too full to speak for a second.
“Yeah,” I finally whisper. “I’m ready.”
He helps me up slowly, his hands firm and gentle all at once. I glance down the hallway toward the boys’ rooms, and for a fleeting moment I picture them as big brothers: wide-eyed, protective, their hearts bursting with curiosity and pride, ready to sweep their sister into every wild adventure.
Jackson leans down, presses a quick kiss to my forehead, and then rests his palm once more over my belly.
“Let’s go bring her home,” he says.
And just like that, in the quiet glow of our bedroom, we step into the next chapter together.
The world feels surreal as we step outside, the crisp winter air hitting my face and snapping me even further awake.
