Page 92 of Pucking the Single Dad
"Serena. You literally crashed into our lives—that snow storm that knocked out half of Wrightwood's power but somehow turned ours back on. You didn't try to replace what we'd lost. Instead, you showed us we could build something new while honoring what came before. You gave Finn a mother who doesn't see his breathing treatments as weakness but as proof he's a warrior. Who knows exactly which nebulizer mask is his favorite and why Tuesday nights are hardest and that sometimeslove looks like sitting in emergency rooms at 3 AM playing Twenty Questions. You gave me a partner who detonates my carefully built walls with your laugh, who calls bullshit on my self-protection, who makes me want to earn the way you look at me. And these babies—"
My hand found her belly. "Jesus, Serena, you're giving us a future I'd stopped believing in. I promise to love you through every breathing treatment, every 2 AM feeding with twins who'll definitely inherit my hard head and your inability to follow a recipe without improving it. I promise to be your storm shelter and your sunshine, your ice pack and your heating pad, your voice when anxiety steals yours. But mostly, I promise you'll never spend another second wondering if you're enough, because you're the whole goddamn universe."
She was crying openly now, not caring that her makeup was running. "How am I supposed to follow that?"
The guests laughed, breaking the tension momentarily.
"Brad," she began, voice steady despite the tears. "I came to Wrightwood as a refugee from a life where 'not quite enough' was tattooed on my forehead. I found a man and boy who didn't need me to be anything but catastrophically myself. You taught me love isn't about being perfect—it's about being present. About showing up terrified, staying when it gets ugly, choosing each other especially when choosing feels impossible."
She turned to Finn, and my heart imploded. "Finn, you asked if I was going to be your real mom. Truth? You made me real the first time you trusted me with your inhaler. The first time you called me at midnight because Dad was at practice and you couldn't breathe and you needed someone who'd count with you. I promise to honor the mother who loved you first while loving you with every atom of my existence."
"And Brad." Serena's eyes found mine again. "I promise to stand beside you through midnight ER visits and twins who'll definitely get your competitive streak and my complete inability to accept 'because I said so' as an answer. I promise to be your partner, your lover, your best friend, and yes, your unlicensed physical therapist when you pretend that knee isn't screaming. I promise our family will be built on messy truth, contagious laughter, and the kind of love that doesn't just survive storms—it dances in them."
"The rings?" the officiant prompted.
Finn stepped forward like he was carrying nuclear codes. "I DIDN'T DROP THEM," he stage-whispered to the back row. "I practiced forty-seven times!"
"Stellar work, buddy," I managed through the lump in my throat.
The band was hot from his sweaty palm, solid and real as I slid it home. "With this ring, I thee wed."
Her hands trembled as she mirrored me, the metal clicking against mine like a lock finding its key. "With this ring, I thee wed."
"By the power vested in me by an online certificate and the state of California," the officiant boomed, "I now pronounce you—"
I was already kissing her, deep and desperate and definitive, one hand tangled in her hair, the other spread across where our twins tumbled. The barn exploded—whistles, cheers, someone (definitely Theo) yelling "about damn time!"
But clearest of all, Finn's voice piercing the chaos: "Finally! Can we eat cake now?"
Perfect. Every messy, glorious second of it.
The reception was everything Serena had planned—elegant but warm, formal but personal. Finn's speech as "best buddy" destroyed any dry eyes that remained.
"When Mom died," he said, small voice carrying clearly through the barn, "I thought Dad and I would be alone forever. Then Serena came, and she didn't try to be Mom. She was just Serena. And that was better because we needed a Serena, not another Mom. Now I get both—angel Mom and earth Serena. Plus babies who I'm gonna teach everything, even the bad words Dad says when he thinks I'm asleep."
I lifted him onto my lap, holding him close while Serena leaned against us both. "Perfect speech, buddy."
"I practiced with Theo."
"Of course you did."
The ambushes came with dessert. First, Finn's coach materializing with a jersey that made Finn literally stop breathing—everyAvalancheplayer had signed it, but the inscription destroyed me:"To the toughest player we know. Your fight inspires ours. —Your Avalanche Family"
Then, Sarah's father standing to speak, his voice carrying across the quiet room.
"Three years ago, my daughter died." No preamble, no softening. "My wife and I, we tried to fill that canyon with rage. With lawyers. With custody battles that had nothing to do with Finn and everything to do with our inability to let her go." He found my eyes across the room. "But watching this—watching Brad rebuild from rubble, watching Finn find joy again, watching Serena love them both with such fierce tenderness... Sarah would be cackling right now. She'd probably be Serena's best friend, comparing notes about Brad's inability to close cabinet doors."
"It's genetic!" I called out, and the tension broke like fever.
He raised his champagne. "To second chances that honor first loves. To families built from beautiful wreckage. To Sarah, who loved first, and to Serena, who loves now."
We drank to ghosts and futures in the same swallow.
The first dance was "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds, the song that had played in my car the day I'd first admitted I was falling for her. Snow began falling outside the barn windows as we swayed together, her bump pressed between us.
"Regrets?" she asked softly.
"Only one. That we didn't do this sooner."
