Epilogue #2
She laughed through her tears. Of course he’d known. Of course he’d already written a song. This man who once hadn’t been able to remember the names of the hordes of women he’d slept with had now memorized every curve and rhythm of her, body and soul.
“Play it for me?”
Jesse settled the guitar against his chest, cleared his throat, and began.
The melody was spare and warm, built on a gentle fingerpicked pattern that reminded her of a lullaby grown up.
His tenor filled the small studio—not the arena-shaking voice from his old albums, but something quieter, surer, confident and happy.
The lyrics were simple. A father’s promise.
A mother’s strength. A life they’d build with flour on the counter and music in every room.
Bristol wept openly. She didn’t care about the cameras.
The song was beautiful—heartfelt, real, and unmistakably Jesse.
Not the superstar the world had once known, but the man she’d found in a barbecue dive, the one who’d cleaned her kitchen and fought to keep her and written melodies in her apartment at two in the morning because she’d made him feel something worth singing about.
She thought of her father. Of Sunday mornings learning to cream butter and sugar at his side, his big hands guiding her small ones.
Their child would grow up with music and dough, with a father who showed up because he wasn’t tied down by a demanding schedule of recordings and concerts, but because he chose to be here with her and their baby.
Every single day.
When the last note faded, Jesse set the guitar aside and looked at her with a question in his eyes. She knew what he was asking without him saying it.
“My vote? You should record that,” she said. “If you’re ready. If you want to.”
He nodded slowly. “I will. But I’m not touring again. I want to be home. With you two.” He pressed one hand to her still-flat belly. With the other, he took hers and pressed it to his chest. “I’m always going to choose you first.”
Bristol’s tears started afresh, and she laughed at herself. “You’re going to have to stop making me cry on camera.”
He kissed her forehead softly. “No promises.”
Grace called cut. The crew erupted into applause. Jayla appeared from behind the monitors, mascara streaked, pointing at Bristol with an accusing finger that dissolved into a teary grin.
“You didn’t tell me, girl!”
She gave her bestie a watery shrug. “I had to tell him first. He’s kind of responsible and all.”
Jayla just laughed.
In the background, the crew started winding down and cleaning up. Bristol ignored the commotion.
So did Jesse. He only had eyes for her as he pulled her close. “I love you, honey. I’m so thrilled I’m going to be a dad, and there’s no one I’d want to share the parenting adventure with but you.”
Nearly every day the man nearly made her heart burst wide open with love, but today? So extra special. “I love you, too. So much. Best thing I ever did was let you be my fake boyfriend for the night.”
“And here I thought the best thing you ever did was marry me.”
“That too.” She pressed her lips to his.
Suddenly, he broke away and bent, lifting her into his arms. As she squealed in surprise, he glanced at Jayla over his shoulder. “Would you bring the rest of the cake, J?”
“Sure. Where are you two going?” Jayla lifted the multi-layer confection.
“To celebrate with my wife.” He carried Bristol toward the hallway that led to their bedroom, and she looped her arms around his neck, laughing.
Their life was still hectic. Their cozy Dallas suburb wasn’t quite the small town she’d grown up in, and his phone still rang with offers and opportunities and the occasional paparazzi tip-off.
But they’d built something real—a home that smelled like cinnamon and sounded like music, where a cat named Shakespurr ruled the windowsills and the man she loved wrote songs in his underwear at the kitchen table.
It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was better.
It was theirs.
Meet the ultimate alpha bad boy who falls hard for the sweetest good girl!