Page 105 of Pucking Daddy

There it is again—that mix of nerves and something dangerously close to excitement.

Oh God. This is a recipe for disaster, and someone—me—is going to get hurt.

But there’s no backing out now.

Because the moment I said yes—really said it—I crossed a line I can’t uncross. Not without consequences. Not without hurting people who don’t deserve it.

Lily.

The thought settles everything. Of course I’m doing this.

I push myself out of bed, moving on autopilot at first. Shower. Teeth. Hair. The kind of routine that usually grounds me, but today it feels distant, like I’m watching myself from the outside.

Like I’m playing a version of me who is calm and capable—and not someone who’s secretly giddy at the thought of being kissed by her husband on her wedding day.

I open my closet and just… stare.

What does one wear to a courthouse wedding that isn’t really a wedding?

My gaze lands on a simple cream dress I packed when I moved here. Knee-length. Clean lines. Soft fabric. Nothing flashy. Nothing that screams bride.

It feels right.

I slip it on, smoothing the material over my hips. It fits well—maybe a little too well. Like it suddenly matters more than it did yesterday.

I keep everything else minimal. Light makeup. Hair down, softly styled. No statement jewelry.

Except, of course, my silver heart pendant.

I hesitate for half a second before fastening it around my neck.

Then I glance at myself in the mirror. I don’t look like a bride. I just look like… me.

A soft knock sounds at the door.

My breath catches.

“Yeah?” I call, trying to sound normal.

The door opens a second later, and Jaxon steps inside.

And for a moment, everything else just… fades.

He’s not in a suit. Dark slacks, a crisp white shirt, the top button undone.

Effortlessly put together.

His gaze finds me—and holds.

My pulse stutters.

“This okay?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at myself, suddenly unsure.

His jaw flexes slightly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice lower than usual. “More than okay.”

Something warm flickers in my chest. “Good,” I say, even though my voice comes out softer than I intend.

“Are you ready?” he asks after a moment.