Birdy inhaled deeply. She pursed her lips together as she thought about how to reply. Once upon a time, she would’ve believed that too. She’d told herself—over and over—that love wasn’t for women like her. Women who didn’t soften their voices. Women who corrected opinions presented as facts. Women who refused to laugh politely when a man explained something she already knew. She’d convinced herself that being strong meant being alone.
But standing here now, the soft glow of the lamp catching the hopeful tilt of the baby’s smile, the quiet strength of her sisters beside her... Birdy saw the truth. She didn’t have to dim to be loved. She just had to be seen.
And Paul—Paul—had seen her from the very beginning. Through their chat. Their texts. Their arguments. Their kisses.
He wasn’t afraid of her fire. He wanted to build a life with it.
Birdy stepped forward, reaching out to touch Beverly’s shoulder. “You deserve it too. You and your baby. You deserve people who love you, who protect you, who stand beside you.”
Beverly bit her lip. But her tooth missed because her lips were trembling. The words rushed out in a ragged whisper: “Zeke—he—he wasn’t always bad.”
Beverly clutched the baby tighter, her voice cracking. “Sometimes he was sweet. Sometimes he said sorry. He tried to love me...he just didn’t know how. His mom—she treated him awful. Yelled at him. Hit him. I thought—” She broke off, swallowing hard. “I thought if I loved him enough, he could be better.”
Birdy’s heart twisted painfully. Because she recognized that quiet, desperate hope—the one that said if you were just good enough, patient enough, you could fix someone else's brokenness.
“He didn’t mean to,” Beverly whispered. “He just... didn’t know any different. And neither did I.”
Birdy knelt a little so they were eye to eye. Her voice was steady. Unshakable. “Love,” she said firmly, “should never hurt. And it should never make you feel small.”
The baby gurgled happily in Beverly’s arms, kicking her tiny feet, oblivious to the storm that had passed over her young mother’s life. Beverly stared down at her daughter for a long moment. Then she gave a shaky inhale—and nodded.
Kitty moved closer, brushing a hand gently over Beverly’s back. Bunny leaned in, too, her expression fierce and protective. These two girls were about to become Chou women.
Well, technically Winters. But even though each of her sisters and cousins were married and engaged and were taking other families' names, they were still Chou through and through. Beverly and the baby would be too.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Birdy said. “You have all of us now. And you have the right to a life that's bigger and brighter than what you came from.”
The baby clapped her chubby hands together, giggling. Beverly smiled—a real one this time. Tentative. Fragile. Hopeful.
Birdy felt it settle in her bones: She was making the right choice. She wasn’t just marrying Paul to protect Beverly and the baby. She was marrying him because she wanted the kind of love that didn’t ask her to shrink. She wanted a life where all of them could grow bigger, louder, stronger—together.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
The air outside Town Hall was crisp and sharp. The snow from last week's storm still stubbornly clung to the edges of the sidewalks. Paul adjusted the collar of his jacket and took a long breath, letting the cold fill his lungs.
Today was the day. His wedding day.
It still didn’t feel entirely real—that he was about to marry Birdy Chou. That the fierce, brilliant woman who had once been a faceless voice across a chat window was about to become his wife.
He glanced to his left, where Noah, Jed, and Teddy fell into an easy formation beside him. All four men had married or were currently engaged to Chou women. All four men were grinning like idiots.
“You’re about to join the club,” Jed said, slapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble. With his movie-star jawline and effortless charm, Jed looked like he was about to step onto a soundstage rather than into a pew. No surprise for a man who made his name as a celebrity competition chef.
“Best club there is,” Noah added, long, trim fingers adjusting his tie like he was disarming a bomb instead of preparing for a wedding.
The town’s grinning golden boy mayor rocked on his heels with his usual twinkle-eyed swagger, hands shoved in his pockets like he was seconds from launching into a campaign speech—or a stand-up set. “If you think you’re in charge now, wait until after the vows.”
They all laughed, the sound loud and familiar against the frozen air. Paul smiled, feeling a deep, unexpected camaraderie. Not just because he was marrying into the Chou family—but because all of them were soldiers. Men who understood loyalty, duty, and the fierce, unbreakable bonds of love and brotherhood.
He thought back to that night at the state office. Sitting behind a blinking computer screen. Answering a chat message from a woman in a panic, who didn’t even know she was about to change his life. If he hadn’t been there—hadn’t answered—he might never have gotten close enough to Birdy to even try to win her heart.
He was grateful for every twist of fate that had led him here. To her. And today, he was going to put a ring on her finger.
Fish came outside just then. The man ducked under the door frame and straightened once over the threshold. His beard was slightly dusted with flour, like he’d stepped out of a lumberjack calendar and into a bakery. “They're ready for you.”
One by one, the men turned to file into the building. Paul would have been the last to go in, if he hadn't heard someone call his name from across the street. He turned, heart still soaring from his future being seconds away from starting — and immediately felt it clench. Zeke’s mother stood there, wrapped tightly in an expensive-looking coat, her mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.
“Go on ahead,” he said to the guys. “I’ll be right behind you.”
