This week without Gio has been the most miserable of my life.
I’ve cried myself to sleep every night, knowing that I’m the one who has chosen this misery for all of us.
And the burden of that guilt has only compounded the agonizing sense of loss I’ve carried with me constantly.
I don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m not strong enough to bear the burden alone.
And if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I don’t know thatthisversion of life Jackson and I have been living for the past week is worth the safety that distance from Gio brings.
I lift my gaze to Gio, who’s watching us both with a softness that makes my knees weak.
“It’s up to you,” he says quietly. “You’ve been through more than I can imagine—both of you have. I don’t want to be the cause of more pain. But all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll be there. I love you more than life itself, Stephanie. And I love Jackson like he’s my own blood. That’s never going to change.”
The dam inside me breaks. My tears come harder, but they’re not just fear anymore—they’re longing, relief, and something that feels dangerously like hope.
I take a deep breath and lift my chin as I make up my mind. “Then promise me you won’t ever let anything happen to our children.”
“Our children?” His brows lift, confusion flickering before realization sets in.
I nod. “Because Jackson is definitely yours… and I’m pregnant.”
For a second, Gio just stares at me, stunned.
Then he moves, crossing the space between us in three strides, pulling me to a stand, then into his arms with a heat that makes my toes curl.
His mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s fierce and aching and utterly consuming.
And for a moment, I’m completely lost in the relief his touch brings.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, his fingers cradling the nape of my neck in a way that makes me feel so incredibly grounded and safe.
“Stephanie,” he murmurs, his husky voice sending a thrill through my body that I don’t think will ever fade.
“Yes?” I whisper, soaking up the warmth of his skin, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne and the enticing scent of what is unmistakably him.
“I know I only just found you again, but I’ve been waiting years to ask you—will you marry me?”
Through the blur of my tears, I pull my head back to look up into his beautiful, captivating hazel eyes, and around the knot in my throat, I manage a breathless, “Yes.”
EPILOGUE
STEPHANIE
The autumn sun hangs low over the field, warm on my face but already starting to dip toward the horizon.
The grass smells faintly sweet from the morning’s dew, and the sound of cheering carries across the open space.
My hands rest on the small curve of my stomach—a habit I can’t seem to break these days—as I watch Jackson weaving between the other kids with that determined look he always gets when he’s seconds away from a breakthrough.
“Go, Jackson!” Gio’s voice booms from beside me, filled with so much enthusiasm it makes me laugh.
He’s cupping his hands around his mouth, as if his voice alone could push our son down the field faster.
And then Jackson does it—he takes the shot, the ball whistling into the goal.
The crowd claps, parents cheer, and Gio lets out a triumphant shout that turns a few heads.
He doesn’t care.
