Page 40 of The Lumberjack's Wedding Fling

It was after our wedding in St. Sebastian. Hunter drove us home from the airport, both of us exhausted and happy, talking about the nursery we’d paint when our surrogate hit her third trimester. I’d been terrified the surrogacy wouldn’t work, terrified I’d be a terrible mother, terrified of all the ways I could fail.

But Hunter held my hand just like he’s holding it now and said, “We’ll figure it out together.”

And we did.

The pregnancy was smooth. The birth was amazing. And when they placed Hadley in my arms for the first time, every fear I’d ever had just dissolved.

She’s ours. This tiny perfect human with Hunter’s hazel eyes and my red hair and a personality that’s already bigger than both of us combined.

“What are you thinking about?” Hunter asks.

“St. Sebastian. The wedding.”

“Best decision I ever made.”

“Marrying me?”

“Convincing you to give me three dates before letting you see this amazing body.” He grins in the darkness, motioning from his head to his toes. “Everything else was just inevitable after that.”

“Cocky.”

“Confident.” He squeezes my hand. “There’s a difference.”

We pull into our driveway. It’s not his stone home or my apartment, but the house we bought together a year ago closer to town. It has a yard for Hadley and a workshop for Hunter and an office for me to review surgical notes when I’m on call.

It’s home.

Hunter carries Hadley inside while I grab the diaper bag. She barely stirs when he lays her in her crib, and I stand in the doorway watching my husband tuck the blanket around our daughter, watching him press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” I whisper when he joins me in the hallway.

“I know.” He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me. “I love you too.”

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other outside our daughter’s room, and I think about how far we’ve come.

From Bay Seven to St. Sebastian to Sunday dinners to this.

To home.

To family.

To forever.

“Come on, Doc.” Hunter takes my hand, leads me toward our bedroom. “Let’s go to bed before she wakes up, and we lose our chance.”

I follow him, smiling, my wedding ring catching the hallway light.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

Not of failing, not of losing control, not of any of it.

Because Hunter was right. This was always inevitable. I was always going to choose him.

And he was always going to choose me back.

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