Page 153 of A Perfect Fit

Despite the inconsistent stitching in some areas and the uneven edges at the sleeves, the jacket is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

He turns to the back of the jacket and points to the design, his throat bobbing. “It has a small floral print because you love florals. The first flower is a peony because that’s your favorite flower. And there’s a sunflower next to it because it’s what you remind me of, someone who’s resilient and strong, standing tall and blooming beautifully, no matter what.”

The warmth in my chest spreads wider until it’s all that’s consuming my body, like a bright glow.

“You made this,” I say, the words a statement rather than a question, because I know. I just know.

Jackson’s cheeks tint pink. “Go easy on me, please. I’m still a novice.”

“It’s so beautiful,” I breathe. “How … how did you make it?”

“I enrolled in sewing classes,” he explains. “When we weren’t together, I … I wanted to feel close to you through doing something you love.”

My breath hitches. Jackson has a million other better things to do than attend sewing lessons and make a jacket for me, but he did that. Because he thought of me and missed me.

Because he loves me.

“May I?” he asks.

I nod, and he helps me put the jacket on. It feels cozy and snug and like it was made full of love. I want to treasure it forever.

Jackson’s gaze rakes over me, a tentative smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How is it?”

I say the same words he said to me when he first tried the sweatshirt I’d made for him. “A perfect fit.”

The smile on his face widens, and his eyes brighten as if he’s recalling the memory, too. “I’m glad.”

As I stare into the eyes of the man I love so deeply, I realize what I want to do.

The revelation of Andrew as his birth father and our breakup have taken a toll on him physically. His skin is blotchy, there are dark hollows under his eyes, and there are small things others might not notice, but I always will, like the way the spark in his eyes is gone.

Yet, to me, he’s still the most handsome man in the world.

My man.

Jackson waited so patiently for me to take a leap of faith when I was hesitant, and even when we weren’t officially dating, he always showed how much he cared for me. Yes, he messed up, but he’s owned up to it, and he wants to fix it. The bombshell about his mom and Andrew was huge, and I want to show him patience and grace, too. I trust him, and I want to hand him my heart again.

“I’d wait another eight years, sixteen years, a lifetime if I had to.”

I’d wait a lifetime for him, too.

I can’t let fear overtake me. Sometimes, the best things don’t come easy, but they’re worth fighting for, worth taking a risk, and I’m willing to fight for Jackson more than anything. For us. For our love story.

Tears spill from my eyes again, but this time, they’re not hurt tears.

“I love you, too, Jackson.”

“You … you do?” Jackson asks in a small voice, as if he’s scared he only imagined me saying that.

“I love you, jackass, and I’ll keep saying it. The I love you part, I mean. Not the jackass part. Unless you want me to.”

Jackson’s mouth opens, then closes before opening again, his face lighting up. “Does that mean …”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He immediately crashes his mouth against mine, a beautiful, all-consuming kiss. A kiss that’s akin to the promise of forever love. A kiss that tells me he’s not going to let go of me again, no matter what happens and regardless of what crazy plot twist life might throw at us in the future.

I loop my arms around his neck as he tilts my head for better access, and a needy moan spills from my lips.