Chapter Twenty-Seven
Braxton
T he smell of pine and gingerbread fills the air as laughter bounces off the walls of the main house at my campground. Outside, snow drapes the trees like frosting on a cake, but inside, it’s warm enough to feel like home.
The campground isn’t exactly a five-star resort, but Lauren’s gone all out with the decorations. There’s a giant Christmas tree by the fireplace, every branch sagging under the weight of too many ornaments, and a cluster of kids huddled near the base, tearing into presents like it’s a competitive sport. My nieces and nephews are all here, shrieking every time they rip through a box and find something they like.
This is chaos.
And it’s perfect.
Most of the soldiers jumped at the chance for a vacation on Dominic Corisi’s private island—can’t blame them for wanting to stretch out on a beach with drinks that come with tiny umbrellas—but a few of us stayed behind to celebrate here. My whole family showed up, including my parents, brothers, and their wives and kids. Ashley and Ray are camped out near the fire, sipping cocoa, and Lauren is across the room, laughing with my mom as they work on clearing away scraps of wrapping paper.
And Lauren’s son, Ryan? He’s here too. I flew him in on my jet. Seeing Lauren’s face light up when he walked through the door? Worth every second of the planning, it took to pull that off.
“Braxton!” Dad’s voice booms from across the room. He’s sitting in the big leather armchair we hauled in from my office, a mug of cider in one hand and a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head. We probably shouldn’t have served him that third glass of eggnog. “When are you going to stop dragging your feet and put a ring on that woman?”
The room goes silent.
Every head turns to look at me, and Lauren freezes in the middle of scooping up a wad of red wrapping paper. Her cheeks flush as she straightens, and her lips curve into a soft, nervous smile.
I grin and wink at my father. It wasn’t as smooth as we’d rehearsed, but it’d worked. “Right now, if she’ll have me.”
Lauren’s eyes widen as I approach her, pulling a small velvet box from my pocket. I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Turns out, this is it.
I take her hand, my heart pounding like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. “Lauren,” I say, my voice low enough that only she can hear me, “I can’t promise you I’ll always be the easiest guy to live with. I’m stubborn, I’m messy, and I’m probably going to drive you nuts at least once a day. But I can promise you this—I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Every minute, every second. And I’ll spend the rest of that life trying to make you as happy as you make me.”
Her eyes shimmer with tears, and I drop to one knee, holding out the ring.
“Lauren,” I ask, my voice breaking just enough to make me curse myself, “will you marry me?”
She presses her free hand to her mouth, nodding frantically. “Yes,” she whispers, then louder: “Yes, yes, yes.”
The room erupts into cheers. My mom starts crying. Dad’s clapping like he’s trying to win an award for loudest hands. Cole and Teddy whistle and one of my nieces shouts, “Finally!” like she’s been waiting years for this moment.
I slip the ring onto Lauren’s finger, and she throws her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. “I love you,” she whispers, and I hold her tight. This. This is what the other men and I fought for.
Later, after the chaos dies down and the kids return to ripping through their presents, Ryan approaches me. He has a serious expression on his face, one that makes him seem older than his years. From what Lauren says, being away has been as hard for him as sticking around would have been .
“Braxton,” he says, his voice quiet.
I nod. “What’s up?”
He hesitates, glancing toward Ashley, who’s standing nearby, then back at me. “I just wanted to thank you. For making my mom so happy. She deserves this.”
I swallow hard, caught off guard by the lump forming in my throat. I glance over at Lauren, who’s chatting with my sister-in-law, her face lit up and animated. “I didn’t do it alone,” I say, my voice gruff. “But I’ll tell you this—her happiness is what I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to.”
Ryan looks over at Ashley, who gives him an encouraging nod. Then she steps forward and clears her throat. “Braxton,” she says, a little nervously, “we have something we’d like to ask you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
Ryan shifts on his feet. “This may sound hokey, but—”
“But,” Ashley interrupts, cutting him off, “we’d like to call you Dad.”
I blink, stunned into silence. For a moment, I can’t say anything. My chest tightens, and I’m pretty sure my eyes are watering.
“That,” I manage to say, my voice cracking, “would be the biggest honor of my life.”
Ashley beams, and Ryan looks relieved. Lauren joins us, slipping beneath my arm. She must have heard my last words because she asks, “An even bigger honor than favorite uncle ?” Her tone is light .
I pretend to wipe a tear from my eye. “I’d like both titles, but if I have to pick one, I choose Dad.”
She laughs, and the sound warms my heart. This is what I’ve always hoped I could give her.
A little later, I walk by where Ray’s leaning against the wall and pause. “Ray,” I say, offering him a handshake.
He grips my hand but mutters under his breath, “I’m not fucking calling you Dad.”
That’s Ray. He strikes first because he doesn’t understand he’s safe and loved now. “Daddy?” I joke, grinning when his expression twists into one of pure horror. It’ll take time and patience, but we’ll wear him down.
“Not in your lifetime,” he shoots back, shaking his head. But he’s smiling, and when we let go, we clap each other on the shoulder like brothers.
The night winds down with a fire crackling in the hearth as kids play with their new gadgets in front of it. Lauren is beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m at peace.
She sighs contentedly. “I love what my life has become—even the scary parts.”
“Me too,” I say then kiss the top of her head. “Dominic called me this morning. He’s offered to fund your facility for the rehabilitation and medical support of veterans. Right here in Rhode Island.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. ”
She looks shaky and hugs me. “They need this—even more than before.”
I hug her back tightly. “Yes. They have a lot of healing ahead, but we’ll be there for them. They’re not alone.”
“We’re going to be able to do so much good for the soldiers—and maybe even the world.” She buries her face in my chest. “What do you say we slip out of here and head to our cabin to celebrate?”
That is something no woman must ask her man twice.