Page 106 of Pucking Daddy

I let out a small breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

That almost earns me a smile. Almost.

He nods once. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the courthouse is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts—probably circling what this means for our future.

We sit side by side in the backseat. Not touching. And I’m caught between wanting that reassurance from him and knowing I probably couldn’t handle it without falling apart.

“Are you okay?” he asks suddenly, without looking at me.

I turn my head slightly. “Yeah. You?”

A beat. “Yeah.”

The courthouse is… underwhelming.

Fluorescent lights. Beige walls. Rows of plastic chairs. A security line that looks like every other government building I’ve ever been in.

This is it? This is where people get married?

Jaxon gestures toward the check-in desk. “We need to sign in.”

“Right,” I say, following him.

We give our names. IDs. Sign papers that feel far too official for how surreal this still is.

Then we’re told to wait. We sit side by side in a row of chairs.

Across from us, a couple in their twenties holds hands, whispering and smiling nervously.

Next to them, an older pair sits in silence, comfortable and familiar.

Finally, our names are called. “Zara Winslow. Jaxon Halberg.”

I stand, my legs slightly unsteady.

We follow the clerk down a short hallway into a small room.

No decorations. No music. Just a desk, a flag in the corner, and a woman who looks like she’s officiated a hundred of these already this week.

“Please stand here,” she says, gesturing.

We step into place, side by side.

Close enough that our shoulders almost touch. I become hyper-aware of everything.

The warmth of him beside me. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The faint scent of his cologne.

“Are you ready to begin?” the officiant asks.

Jaxon answers first. “Yes.”

I swallow. “Yes.”

She starts speaking, but I barely hear a word. It feels distant, like I’m watching it happen from the outside.

Until—