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“Okay, little man, it’s time to meet your aunt Jordyn.”

A soft sob falls from my lips as Ryder places him in my arms. “Hey, Leo,” I whisper, just for him. “I’m your aunt Jordyn. I never thought I’d be an aunt, let alone share my birthday with my nephew. I won’t tell you I’m your favorite because you have a group of aunts who are all badass, but I’m honored to be one of them.”

I hear a throat clearing and a sniffle. I look up to find three sets of eyes, all wet with emotion, smiling back at me. “I’m sorry, I just—this is so much more than I ever imagined my life would be blessed with.” I swallow hard. “When I lost my brother, I just—” I stop talking, because I can’t seem to get the words out.

“He’s lucky to have his aunt Jordyn,” Brooks speaks up. “We all are.”

I nod and turn my gaze back to the sleeping baby in my arms, trying to get a handle on my emotions. When I finally feel like I can speak without my voice cracking, I look up to find Ryder watching me. “Can we have one?”

His reply is a slow, sexy smile accompanied by a nod. He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Yeah, sweets. We can have as many as you want.” He leans over and kisses me, and if there was ever a chance of a heart bursting with love, it would be mine in this moment.

Ryder spins me around the dance floor at Willow Manor as our family watches on. It’s the first Saturday of December and my wedding day. My mother-in-law and my sisters-in-law joined forces, and this day couldn’t have been more perfect.

“How’s the leg, Mrs. Kincaid?” Ryder asks.

I smile up at my husband. “Perfect, Mr. Kincaid.”

Ryder stops moving and rests his forehead against mine, not giving a single fuck that every member of our family, and my best friend and her boyfriend, are watching. “I’ll never forget this day, Jordyn. Never.”

“You’re not supposed to make me cry on my wedding day.”

“It’s the moment, sweets. I’m gonna need you to stay present.” He winks.

“The present is nice, but I kind of like the outlook for the future as well.”

“Did you toss them?”

“Toss what?” I know what he’s asking, but I’m feeling a little mischievous.

“You know what. Did you stop taking your birth control?”

“Yep. I didn’t take last night’s pill either.”

His hand slides down to my belly. “So, tonight, we might be working on another piece of that future?”

“I don’t think it works that quickly, but we can definitely practice.”

“Oh, sweets, we’ll be practicing. Not that we need it. We’re pros.”

My face heats. Before I can reply, Maverick appears, pulling me into his arms.

“You have to share, Ry.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Well, she’s my sister.” He smiles down at me. “Love ya, sis.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m watching you, little brother,” Ryder warns with absolutely no heat. He leans in and kisses me softly. “Love you, wife.”

“Love you too.”

He walks away and lets me dance with Maverick. Little did he know, all of his brothers, Deacon, Calvin, and his father, would all request a turn before he got me back into his arms.

I used to count the good days. Now, there are too many to count. Too many to memorize. So many moments I’ll cherish for a lifetime.

It’s the week before Christmas and I’m packing up supplies to head to my in-laws’ to meet all of my sisters-in-law for a baking day. I’m so damn excited. I’ve been working here and there for the family businesses. I’ve watched the photography studio for Scarlett while she works and Palmer is on maternity leave. I’ve done the same at Orrin and Declan’s shops. I’m hoping something more permanent comes soon. I want to contribute to our family. However, a degree in fashion really isn’t doing much for me here in Willow River.

Just as I’m about to leave, my cell phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyway. I no longer dread incoming calls. “Hello.”

“Jordyn Astor?”

“It’s Kincaid now,” I tell the caller. “Who is this?”

“I wasn’t aware. I apologize. This is Harold Matthews. I was your grandfather’s attorney.”

“Okay?” I ask cautiously.

“Mrs. Kincaid, you just turned twenty-five.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m calling to make arrangements for your trust fund.”

“I don’t have a trust fund.” My mother always said I’d be married off and my husband would be able to take care of me. There is a pang of sadness anytime I think about her, but I’m getting better every day.

“Your grandfather set up a trust for you. The rules were you couldn’t have access to the funds until your twenty-fifth birthday or at the time of marriage.”

“A trust fund?” I repeat, because I’m having a hard time believing this is real.

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