Page 37 of Puck, Marry, Thrill

“Jamie…” he rasped, his voice hoarse with emotion—and then, piercing through the moment like a sharp needle to a balloon, the doorbell rang.

Kenneth’s entire body stiffened – and he muttered a foul word swiftly under his breath.

Jamie blinked at the unexpected curse, caught off guard.

He looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Her brows lifted slightly, her expression curious, almost amused. “I had no idea you ever used that word. It’s a good thing Zachary didn’t hear that.”

“I don’t – because of Zachary… and I should have said ‘fudge’ instead. I apologize if I offended you.”

Despite the sudden interruption, Jamie laughed softly, the sound breaking some of the tension still lingering in the air. “Honestly,” she chuckled nervously, her smile blooming, “the doorbell offended me because I think you said exactly what was on your mind… and it sure wasn’t chocolatey, husband.”

He laughed, too, the tension easing from his frame as his cheeks darkened with a faint blush. She had caught him. And he knew it.

He leaned in, quick and tender, to brush a kiss on her cheek. It was feather-light and reverent, full of everything he wasn’t saying out loud.

“I’ll get the door,” he murmured, then turned and left the room.

Jamie stood there in silence, the satin still clutched against her chest, heart beating wildly as she watched him go. Something inside her shifted permanently at that moment.

Tonight would be a new beginning.

* * *

Dinner was pizza, delivered in a cardboard box that smelled like melted cheese and oregano, and Jamie couldn’t have been more relieved. She was too exhausted to cook, too overwhelmed by the clutter of boxes and the endless mental checklist to even think about where the pots and pans were. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the warm scent filled the kitchen, comforting and familiar.

“Poor man plates,” Kenneth had called out with a teasing grin, just before the boys—Kenneth, Boucher, and Zachary—ripped the lid off the pizza box and tore it into four uneven squares. They each took one with a laugh, balancing slices like it was the most normal thing in the world. She watched Kenneth exchange a look with Boucher—some shared joke or memory only the two of them understood—and they both cracked up laughing like kids at camp.

It was strange, she thought, how laughter could make a house feel more like home than any perfectly placed throw pillow ever could.

The three of them disappeared soon after into Zachary’s room, all energy and purpose, dragging tools and parts behind them. Jamie stayed behind in the kitchen, organizing the chaos in a slower, quieter way. She worked through the boxes methodically, placing dishes in the cupboards, sorting silverware into drawers, and trying to make sense of this new version of life. Each item unpacked felt like a step toward normal. Familiar plates stacked in unfamiliar cupboards. Glasses that had survived two previous homes now lined up neatly, ready to be filled with juice or wine or late-night chocolate milk.

When she found the box labeledLINENS, she paused. The bedding had already been set up in her and Kenneth’s room—by Kenneth, she realized with a blush. He’d chosen to puttheirroom together first. She swallowed around the lump that rose in her throat and touched the soft cotton of the sheets, grateful in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just thoughtful—it felt like a quiet vow.I see you. I care about you. I want you to feel settled, too.

Jamie moved on, putting the towels in the bathrooms, and counting each set as she went. They had three bathrooms in the house—but only enough items for two. A small thing, but it tugged at her attention. She started a list: shelf paper, scented plug-ins, a shower curtain for the hall bathroom, and a bath mat that didn’t slide around like a death trap. These weren’t just supplies—they were anchors. Tiny pieces of comfort that would tell her brain:This is your home now.

She was just writing “command hooks” in the corner of the page when a blur skidded into the kitchen.

“Hey Zach-Attack,” Jamie chuckled, startled as her stepson—her heart still fluttered when she used that word—grinned up at her.

“Come see…” he cried, eyes alight, cheeks flushed with excitement. He grabbed her hand with both of his, tugging hard. The boy knew only two speeds: full-throttle and snuggle-mode.

She followed, laughing under her breath as he practically dragged her down the hallway. Her pulse quickened—not from the tugging but from the anticipation of seeing Kenneth again. Just thinking about his smile gave her a swirl of butterflies that made her feel sixteen all over again.

Yeah, she had itbadfor her husband.

The moment she stepped into the doorway of Zachary’s room, Kenneth looked up, and their eyes locked. There it was—that smile. Warm, gentle, tinged with exhaustion but still so entirelyhim. For a moment, everything inside her went quiet. Safe.

But then her gaze shifted—and her breath caught.

Boucher was standing at the edge of the bed, patting the mattress as Zachary leaped onto it with a squeal, nearly knocking the man backward. The child was beaming—radiatingjoy. And Jamie understood why.

The bed wasn’t just a bed. It was a little boy’s dream.

A full-sized hockey goal frame flanked the side of the twin mattress. It extended from the wall, made of real metal bars and taut netting, and reached about three-quarters down the bed like a miniature arena built just for him.

“Is that… a hockey goal?” she asked, stunned.

---