Page 167 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

The man standing in front of her isn’t the same reckless asshat she once knew.

“I don’t need all this,” she says finally, her voice quiet but sure. “Not the house. Not the land.”

My heart stutters. Fuck. I’m too late. This is it, she’s pulling away. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve built, still isn’t enough.

The weight of my failure crushes my chest, and I brace for the worst.

"I just need you,” she says softly. “I love you, Alessio.”

The words land like a whisper against my chest, but they hit harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.

“I’ve loved you since the beginning,” she says. “The night you kissed me like I was something you couldn’t lose. And every day after, even when you were infuriating. Even when you left.”

She shakes her head, blinking away the tears. “You changed everything. The way I see love. The way I see myself. You made me brave enough to want more.”

She steps closer, placing her hand flat against my chest. “But I don’t just want the idea of you anymore. I want the real you. Messy. Flawed. Here.”

I cover her hand with mine, pressing it tighter to my heart.

"I love you, Sophie."

My voice is rough, thick with everything I’ve held back.

“You changed me,dolcezza. You broke me open and made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of. You made me want to be the kind of man who shows up. Who stays. Who chooses you. Who you choose, every day.”

I take her other hand gently. “If you’ll let me... I want to spend the rest of my life proving it.”

She kisses me.

Not tentative. Not gentle.

It’s a kiss that speaks of everything we’ve been through. Of pain, of longing, of hope clawing its way back to the surface.

My arms wrap around her instantly, pulling her against me like I’ve been starved for the feel of her.

Her fingers tangle in my shirt, and I pour everything into the kiss. Every promise. Every apology. Every piece of the man I’ve become for her.

Then she breaks away, just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against mine.

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” she whispers. “Even when I wanted to. Even when I told myself I should.”

I kiss her again, my lips crashing into hers.

I pull her in close, pressing my forehead to hers. “Let’s christen this place the right way, shall we? I hear hardwood floors are surprisingly durable.”

She laughs.

Not a small breath or polite chuckle, but a real laugh. Full and bright. The first one I’ve heard from her in weeks.

And just like that, the air shifts. The weight lifts.

We don’t need champagne. Or a crowd. Or validation from anyone else.

Just this. Just us.

The beginning of something real, our way.

We walk hand-in-hand through the house, the sunlight catching on the clean white walls and polished edges of a life that hasn’t fully begun yet.

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