Chapter 29
Life moves fast after that.
We make our relationship town-official, and somehow, no one bats an eye. It’s like everyone else had already written our story, like we were the last ones to catch on.
We work on the house together, turning it into a home while I grow round with our baby boy. We argue over tile samples, dance barefoot in the kitchen, and fall asleep tangled in each other every night, wrapped in love and limbs and laughter.
We plan the wedding.
And we make love like the world might end tomorrow.
We love each other so fiercely, so fully, that sometimes it feels like we’re bursting at the seams. Like our hearts are too full for our bodies to hold.
And then it’s here.
The day.
Charlie’s in the bridal suite with me, gently bouncing baby Cherry against her shoulder.
Outside, I can hear the low rumble of voices, the hum of music being tested over speakers, the wind brushing through the trees like it's blessing the day.
Sam Jr. is off with the groomsmen, probably sleeping on Sam right now.
Charlie turns to me, eyes warm. “You look stunning, Phern.”
I smile, smoothing my hands over the soft, flowy fabric of my dress. It’s not traditional—no white lace or corseted waist—but it’s me. It hugs my very round belly and flows like water down to my ankles. I feel like a goddess and a storm and a love story all at once.
Still, I wince. Another contraction rolls through me, low and tight and sharp enough to steal my breath.
I don't say anything.
If Will knew, he’d toss me over his shoulder and drive straight to the hospital—suit and all, ceremony be damned.
But I need this moment. We need this moment.
So I breathe through it, smile through it, and let the joy of this day anchor me. Because in just a little while, I’ll walk toward the man I love. And maybe I’ll do it while in labor.
The music starts. A soft, slow acoustic version of the song we picked together. One that played the first time he kissed me like he meant it.
Charlie hugs me. “Ready to go meet your forever?”
I nod, though another contraction tightens around my middle like a vise. I grit my teeth and wait for it to pass. Only a few people notice. Charlie’s sharp eyes, and maybe Tish who glances my way like she’s silently timing them.
But then the doors open.
And there he is.
Will stands at the end of the aisle, broad shoulders straight, dark suit hugging his frame, hands clasped tightly in front of him like he might come unhinged if he doesn’t hold it together.
The second he sees me, his whole face changes.
Like the breath’s been punched out of him.
Like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than his very pregnant bride walking toward him, barefoot and glowing.
Each step I take feels heavier. Sharper. But I focus on him. On his eyes. On everything waiting for me at the end of that aisle.
When I reach him, he leans in and brushes a kiss to my cheek. “You okay?”
“Ask me again in twenty minutes,” I whisper, managing a smile.
His brow furrows. “Are you having contractions?”
“Maybe.”
His jaw tics. “Phern—”
“Let me marry you first.”
He hesitates, torn between logic and love. But I lace my fingers through his and give him a look that says trust me.
The officiant clears his throat.
We move fast. The words blur—something about devotion, something about forever—but my eyes never leave Will's, and his never leave mine.
“You may kiss the bride.”
He does, with a hand cradling my belly like he’s already protecting both of us.
The moment our lips part, another contraction nearly buckles my knees.
“I think it’s time,” I breathe.
Will doesn’t wait. He sweeps me into his arms like the world is on fire and strides back down the aisle to a mix of stunned gasps and delighted laughter.
Charlie calls out behind us, “Someone get the truck and the hospital bag!”
Liam yells, “Is the baby coming right now?!”
And I laugh through the pain, through the joy, through the absolute wildness of it all. Because I just married the love of my life. And now I’m about to meet the other one.
By the time we reach the truck, Will’s sweating. Not from nerves. From panic. Real, bone-deep dad-mode panic. He helps me into the passenger seat like I’m made of porcelain and buckles the seatbelt himself then jogs around to the driver’s side, muttering, “Hospital. Fast. Not too fast. Shit.”
Charlie tosses the hospital bag in the back. “Already called ahead. They’re expecting you!”
Sam has his arm around Charlie. “We’ll meet you there, sis.”
We peel out of the gravel driveway, tin cans and flower petals still dragging behind the truck.
The contractions are getting closer. Stronger.
I grip Will’s hand across the console, teeth clenched through another wave. “This baby is not waiting long.”
Will glances at me, jaw tight. “You’re doing amazing, sugar. Just hold on.”
“I already held on. That’s why we’re in this situation.”
He barks out a laugh. “You still cracking jokes while in labor? I married a damn superhero.”
The truck speeds down the back roads, past fields and barns and fences we helped build together. My dress is hitched up around my thighs, my hair a mess of curls and sweat, and none of it matters. Because this is us. Chaotic. Real. So in love it hurts.
We make it to the hospital. Barely.
The nurses meet us at the entrance with a wheelchair, and Will tries to argue—he can carry me—but I shoot him a look that shuts that down quick.
Inside, everything moves fast—monitors, IVs, quick checks and shouted instructions. But the second Will laces our fingers together, the world narrows to just us.
“You’ve got this,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”
Hours blur. The pain is sharp, intense. But Will never lets go of my hand. He kisses my forehead, murmurs encouragement, rubs my back when I scream, and doesn’t flinch when I curse him out mid-push.
And then just as dawn breaks there’s a cry.
The doctor holds up a squirming, red-faced baby boy and announces, “You’ve got a healthy son.”
I break. Tears stream down my cheeks as they place him on my chest. Will leans in, eyes glassy, and kisses both our foreheads.
We made him.
We made this.
“He’s perfect,” I whisper.
Will touches his tiny hand, his voice thick. “Welcome to the world, little man.”
Then he looks at me like I am the world.
“You did it, sugar.”
I smile, exhausted and overjoyed. “We did.”
A month later, the house is quieter but fuller.
The tools from our renovation projects are tucked away.
The to-do lists have faded from the chalkboard in the kitchen, replaced with feedings, nap windows, and sweet little notes Will leaves me in the margins.
Notes like You’re doing amazing, and I’ll handle the laundry—go nap with our boy.
Our son is asleep on my chest now, a soft bundle of warmth and baby lotion. His little breaths puff against my collarbone, and his fingers twitch like he’s dreaming of riding horses already.
I sit on the couch in the living room, wrapped in one of Will’s flannels, my hair in a messy bun, and not a drop of makeup on.
And yet, when Will walks in from feeding the chickens, he looks at me like I’m still the girl who walked down the aisle with wildflowers in her hair and a baby in her belly.
He smiles, slow and smitten. “You two are my whole damn world.”
I grin sleepily. “We know.”
He crosses the room, kisses Billy’s head first then mine. “How’d the feeding go?”
“He chugs like his daddy drinks sweet tea.”
Will chuckles and drops onto the couch beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “He’s got good taste.”
We sit like that for a while, the kind of silence that only exists when two people know each other by heart. Outside, the late spring wind rustles the trees. Inside, our son stirs and settles, and the scent of cedarwood and baby powder wraps around us like a memory in the making.
“How’d the doctor appointment go?”
He wanted to come, but Charlie insisted on taking me and little Billy. Said it was bonding time or some nonsense. I can still see the way he’d looked at me before we left, like his body was already aching to be near mine again.
“Well,” I say, keeping my tone casual as I stand, “there’s something I want to show you.”
His eyebrow arches with curiosity, and when I turn, he follows with no hesitation.
I carry Billy to his room, placing him gently in the crib and brushing a kiss across his soft cheek. Then I take Will’s hand and lead him to our bedroom, the air between us thick with unspoken things.
As soon as the door closes, he’s watching me like he knows something’s coming.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, voice low and careful.
“More than okay,” I murmur, sliding my arms around his neck and pressing my body to his. “The doctor cleared me for everything.”
His eyes flare.
“And by everything,” I breathe, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth for a beat, “I mean I need my Daddy to fill me up. Right. Now.”
His growl is more animal than man as his hands find my hips, and just like that, the waiting is over.
His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and possessive, like he’s been starved for this.
For me. His hands roam my body with a desperation that sends shivers straight through me.
One slides into my hair, fisting gently as he tilts my head back, deepening the kiss until I’m breathless.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he rasps against my lips. “Every damn night, holding you, not touching you. It about drove me insane.”
“I noticed,” I tease, my voice already thick with need. “Pretty sure I caught you muttering in your sleep about bending me over the kitchen table.”
His eyes flash. “That was one of the places.”
Before I can laugh, he lifts me effortless, like I weigh nothing, carrying me to the bed and laying me down with a reverence that has my chest tightening. He stands back for a moment, eyes drinking me in like I’m holy.