“I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” said Bunny.
Birdy ignored her baby sister. Although maybe she shouldn't have. Kitty had walked hand in hand with her bridegroom to this same courthouse years ago, and look where it had gotten her.
But this was Paul. Paul was here, and he was steady, and he didn't shrink—from her. He kept communication lines open, even when they were arguing—especially when they were arguing. Paul would not let her down.
Birdy crossed the snowy sidewalk, heart thundering. Paul turned at her approach, and his face lit up. Lit up in a way that seared itself into her memory. Like she was the only thing in the world he wanted to look at.
Something cracked open inside her. Wide and tender. For the first time in her life, she didn’t brace herself. She didn't hold anything back. Birdy launched herself into Paul's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her mouth found his in a kiss that tasted like hope and snowflakes and everything she thought she might never have.
Paul froze for all of half a second. Then he kissed her back. His arms locked around her like a shelter. His hands pulled her in. His mouth deepened the kiss until Birdy felt it in her knees, in her spine, in her very soul. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“I want to marry you,” he insisted. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Birdy’s heart stopped. Then kicked. Then soared—wild, giddy, unmoored. The words hit her like warm sunlight cracking through storm clouds. Her breath caught, the world around her blurring, collapsing inward to just him. His eyes were steady and sincere, his voice low and sure.
Something in her cracked open. She could see it—just for a second—the life they might build together. The stolen kisses in the kitchen. The quiet strength of his hand in hers in a courtroom. Laughter. Safety. A home. Love.
Then he kept talking. And the moment splintered.
“But we can’t move forward with the guardianship for Beverly.”
Birdy blinked, the words not quite computing. “What?”
Paul stepped back. His hands remained on her waist, as though fearful that she might bolt if he let her go. “I found a placement for Beverly. At a girls’ home. They’ll take Beverly and the baby. She’ll be safe. Cared for. But she’ll have to share custody with Zeke.”
The world tilted. The solid courthouse. The shoveled snow. Paul's steady hands.
Birdy took a step back from him, feeling her foundations rock beneath her feet. But she didn't crumble. She held herself together with the force of sheer will.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would we do that to her? Why are you suggesting this?”
“I have to think about what’s best for everyone involved.”
“We are what’s best for them. You. Me. A real family.”
Paul nodded slowly. Almost sadly. “I know,” he said. “But I have to think about more than just Beverly and the baby. I had to think about you, too. About your business. Your future.”
“My business? What does my business have to do with anything?”
Paul pursed his lips, like he was searching for the words to explain to her. Was he about to mansplain something to her? About her business?
Suddenly, she did not want to hear another word from him. No matter what those words might be. It didn't matter that he still wanted to marry her. He was changing the rules. Without consulting her.
“I just want to protect you, Birdy.”
Birdy reared back like he’d slapped her. There it was. Exactly what she’d known all along.
The fire that had been building inside her, banked and barely controlled for days, exploded. “You think I need protecting from my own life?” she hissed. “From the business I built with my own hands?”
Paul opened his mouth to respond, but Birdy wasn’t done.
“You think you get to decide what's best for me? Because you’re afraid I might fly too high and you can't keep up?”
Her hands trembled, but her voice never wavered. She stared him down, heart pounding.
“This is the plan, Paul. This is what we're doing. Either you marry me right now or I’ll find someone else who will.”
“You don't understand?—”
