Worth the Fall: A Single Dad, Romantic Comedy (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

I thought planning a wedding—especially my second wedding—would be easier. After all, I’ve been down this road before. Pick a date, book a venue, hire a wedding planner to do the rest, and show up in a tux, ready to say ‘I do.’ Simple, right?

Wrong.

Dead wrong.

Turns out when you’re marrying the queen of type A personalities, she wants to handle every detail which means I now have to also handle every detail…

The stack of wedding magazines on my coffee table keeps multiplying like they’re breeding overnight. My email inbox is flooded with vendor quotes that make my eyes water, and my credit card company probably thinks I’ve lost my mind. But this time is different. This time it’s Mia, and everything has to be perfect—even if that perfection comes with a heavy dose of chaos, courtesy of my enthusiastic wedding planner.

‘I’m telling you, Daddy, you need a princess carriage,’ Felicity declares, stomping one tiny foot on the floor for emphasis. Her dark curls bounce with indignation as she clutches her glitter-covered notebook. The Wedding Planner Extraordinaire sash she made herself sparkles under the living room lights, sending tiny rainbow reflections dancing across the walls.

‘We don’t need a carriage,’ I say for what feels like the hundredth time today alone. I try to keep my voice calm, even as I spot more glitter falling onto my freshly vacuumed carpet. ‘We’re not royalty.’

‘But Daddy!’ She throws her hands up, scattering even more glitter. ‘How is Mia supposed to make her grand entrance? On foot? Like a regular person?’ The horror in her voice suggests I’ve just suggested we have the wedding in a dumpster.

Mia, sitting cross-legged on the couch with her laptop, snorts into her coffee. Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her mug, dancing with barely contained laughter.

‘Felicity, sweetheart,’ I try again, ‘I don’t think⁠—’

‘It’s in the rules!’ she interrupts, stomping her foot again. This time, her light-up princess shoes flash with each stomp, adding a disco effect to her protest.

‘What rules?’ I ask, genuinely baffled. When did weddings get rule books? And more importantly, who let my five-year-old read them?

‘These ones!’ She flips open her notebook with the flourish of a seasoned professional, revealing pages covered in crayon scribbles, glitter glue, and what I strongly suspect is yesterday’s juice box casualty. ‘See? Rule number one: Every princess needs a carriage. Rule number two: The carriage must be sparkly. Rule number three: Horses are optional but highly recommended.’

‘Did you write these rules yourself?’ I ask, peering at the elaborate crayon manifesto.

She gives me a look that could rival any seasoned lawyer. ‘Pinterest helped.’

‘Pinterest?’ I turn to Mia accusingly. ‘You let her on Pinterest?’

Mia shrugs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘She’s got a point about the rules. Very official-looking. And the glitter really adds credibility.’

‘Not helping,’ I say, giving her a look that only makes her grin wider.

‘I mean,’ she continues, clearly enjoying my predicament, ‘if there’s a rule book…’

Felicity beams, sensing a victory in Mia’s support. ‘And we also need a cake with layers like a castle and sparkles everywhere and—’ She flips to another page in her notebook, this one featuring what appears to be a cake taller than our house.

‘Let’s focus on one thing at a time,’ I interrupt, holding up my hands in surrender. The last time she got on a roll like this, we ended up with a three-page proposal for releasing doves during the first dance.

‘Daddy, look!’ She points to a particularly detailed drawing. ‘The cake needs a working drawbridge. And a moat! With chocolate sauce!’ Her eyes light up with the kind of enthusiasm that usually costs me a small fortune.

‘A moat?’ I repeat weakly.

‘With little sugar fish!’ She bounces on her toes, her sash sending another shower of glitter to the floor. ‘And maybe tiny knights made of candy to guard it.’

Mia sets her laptop aside, trying and failing to suppress her laughter. ‘The knights are a nice touch. Very security-conscious.’

Felicity’s face lights up like I’ve just agreed to crown her Queen of Everything. ‘Okay, then the princess carriage first, then we can talk about the moat cake!’

‘That’s not what I—’ I start, but it’s too late.

Mia bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her coffee. ‘You walked right into that one, Ramirez.’

I glance between them—my bride-to-be and my daughter, both wearing matching expressions of pure mischief—and despite the glitter explosion that is my current reality, I can’t help but smile. This chaos? This is my life now. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘Can we at least negotiate on the horses?’ I ask, already knowing I’m fighting a losing battle.

Felicity taps her chin thoughtfully, a gesture she definitely learned from Mia. ‘Well… maybe we could use unicorns instead?’

‘Unicorns,’ I repeat flatly.

‘They’re more magical,’ she explains patiently, like she’s teaching a particularly slow student. ‘And they match the theme better.’

‘There’s a theme?’

‘Daddy.’ She puts her hands on her hips, looking alarmingly like her mother when she’s about to win an argument. ‘There’s always a theme. Ours is ‘Enchanted Royal Wedding with Extra Sparkle.” She pronounces each word carefully, like she’s presenting a case to the Supreme Court.

Mia sets down her coffee, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. ‘I have to say, she’s thorough. Did you see the color-coded tabs in that notebook?’

‘Those were your idea,’ I accuse, remembering the afternoon I came home to find them online shopping for crafting supplies.

‘Just helping our wedding planner stay organized,’ Mia says innocently. ‘Professional development and all that.’

The tuxedo shop is my next battle zone, and I’m already regretting my life choices as I push open the door. The bell chimes cheerfully, mocking my impending doom.

Hector and Austin accompany me, because apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson about letting them help with anything. The last time I let them ‘help’ with wedding planning, we ended up with a DJ who specializes in heavy metal covers of Disney songs. Celine still hasn’t let me live that one down.

‘This is going to be epic,’ Hector announces to the entire shop, earning a startled look from the elderly tailor measuring a suit nearby. ‘Second weddings are where you get to go wild.’

‘No one is going wild,’ I warn, but he’s already disappeared into the racks of formal wear like a kid in a candy store.

‘This one,’ Hector emerges, holding up a white tuxedo jacket with gold trim that looks like it was stolen from a Las Vegas casino. ‘It screams, ‘I’m the main character.”

‘It screams something, alright,’ I mutter, brushing past him to look at the black jackets. Nice, normal, dignified black jackets that won’t make me look like I’m about to perform a magic show.

‘Come on,’ Hector follows me, the offensive jacket still in hand. ‘You can’t wear boring black. What would Felicity say?’

‘She’d say I look like a proper groom.’

‘No,’ Austin pipes up from where he’s leaning against a rack of ties, not even looking up from his phone. ‘She’d say you look like a penguin. And not the cool kind like Princess Waddles. You could pull it off,’ Austin continues, finally glancing up. ‘You know, if you were starring in a Vegas magic show. Which, now that I think about it…’

‘Don’t even finish that thought,’ I warn, pulling out a classic black tuxedo jacket. ‘This is perfectly fine.’

‘Fine?’ Hector sounds personally offended. ‘You’ve already done black. This is your second wedding, Miguel. You need something bold. Velvet, maybe. Or red!’ His eyes light up dangerously. ‘Oh, what about a white tuxedo with a black lapel? Very Bond villain.’

‘I’m not a Bond villain,’ I say, putting the jacket back on the rack before he can snatch it away. ‘I’m a lawyer getting married. Normally.’

‘Then why are you acting like one?’ Hector teases, waggling his eyebrows. He strikes a dramatic pose with the gold-trimmed monstrosity. ‘Come to the dark side. We have sequins.’

‘Because I’m starting to think I need an evil lair to escape the two of you,’ I shoot back, dodging as he tries to make me try on the jacket.

The elderly tailor watches us with a mix of horror and fascination as Hector prances around with yet another jacket—this one bright blue with paisley embroidery that makes my eyes hurt.

‘You’re fired,’ I tell him, but he just grins wider.

‘You can’t fire me. I’m your best man. It’s in the contract.’

‘What contract?’

‘The one I just made up.’ He holds the paisley jacket against my chest. ‘Oh yes, this really brings out your eyes.’

Austin finally looks up from his phone, smirking. ‘Should’ve come alone, man.’

‘Noted,’ I say dryly, watching in horror as Hector discovers an entire rack of patterned vests.

‘Oh, what about this one?’ Hector pulls out a vest covered in sequined flamingos, holding it up to me with a grin that can only be described as evil. ‘It’s perfect for your beach wedding!’

‘We’re not having a beach wedding,’ I say through gritted teeth, pushing the vest away. ‘And even if we were, I wouldn’t be wearing that monstrosity.’

‘But think of the photos!’ Hector insists, not deterred in the slightest. ‘You’ll stand out!’

‘For all the wrong reasons,’ I mutter, moving quickly to another rack before he can assault me with any more fashion atrocities.

The snicker from Austin’s direction tells me he’s enjoying this far too much. Some groomsman he is. Isn’t he supposed to be on my side?

‘What about a classic white jacket?’ I suggest, trying to steer us back to sanity. ‘Timeless, elegant, won’t make me look like I lost a bet with a pack of Skittles.’

Hector sighs dramatically, but dutifully puts back the flamingo vest. ‘Fine, fine. We’ll do boring and traditional. But don’t come crying to me when Felicity says you look like a stuffy old man.’

I roll my eyes, pulling out a crisp white tuxedo jacket. ‘Felicity has better taste than that.’

‘I don’t know, man,’ Austin pipes up, finally pocketing his phone. ‘She did suggest a moat made of chocolate for the cake. Her judgment might be questionable.’

I pause, the jacket dangling from my hand. He has a point. My daughter’s imagination knows no bounds, especially when it comes to wedding planning. I’m still finding glitter in places I didn’t know glitter could reach.

Hector, sensing my moment of weakness, swoops in with a jacket that can only be described as ‘disco ball chic.’ ‘Just try it on,’ he wheedles, thrusting it at me. ‘For Felicity.’

I stare at the jacket, the sequins winking under the shop’s bright lights. It’s hideous. It’s tacky. It’s…

It’s exactly what Felicity would love.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping in defeat. ‘Fine. I’ll try it on. But I swear, Hector, if you take any pictures…’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ he says, but the gleam in his eye tells me that’s a blatant lie.

I shrug on the jacket, the sequins cold and scratchy against my skin. I feel like a human mirror ball, ready to be hung from the ceiling of a ’70s prom.

Austin wolf-whistles. ‘Looking good, Ramirez. All you need is a disco stick and you’re ready to boogie.’

I glare at him, but it’s hard to muster much venom when I’m blinded by my own reflection.

‘See?’ Hector grins, circling me like a shark. ‘I told you. Bold. Daring. Unforgettable.’

‘Ridiculous,’ I counter, trying to tug the jacket off. But the sequins, evil little things that they are, have decided to stage a revolt. They cling to my shirt, snagging the fabric and refusing to let go.

I’m stuck. Trapped in a disco inferno of my own making.

Austin, the traitor, is laughing so hard he has to lean against a rack of suits to stay upright. Hector looks torn between helping me and joining in the mirth.

‘Not a word,’ I warn them both, my voice slightly muffled by the jacket that’s now halfway over my head. ‘Not. A. Word.’

It takes ten minutes, some creative wiggling, and a very patient tailor to free me from the sequined monstrosity. By the time I’m back in my normal clothes, I’m sweating, I’m annoyed, and I’m more convinced than ever that simple and classic is the way to go.

‘No more bold choices,’ I declare, holding up a hand to silence Hector’s protest. ‘I’m wearing a black tux. End of story.’

‘But—’

‘No.’

‘What if⁠—’

‘Also no.’

Hector deflates, pouting like a toddler denied a cookie. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘I’m plenty of fun,’ I argue. ‘I just don’t think my wedding day is the time to experiment with avant-garde fashion.’

Austin, having finally recovered from his laughing fit, claps me on the shoulder. ‘Probably smart. Mia might not appreciate you upstaging her with your daring sartorial choices.’

I snort. As if anyone could upstage Mia. She’s going to be breathtaking no matter what I wear. The thought makes my annoyance fade, replaced by a warm rush of anticipation. In just a few short weeks, she’ll be my wife. We’ll be starting our life together, officially. A family.

‘Earth to Miguel,’ Hector waves a hand in front of my face. ‘You’ve got that dopey grin again. The one that means you’re thinking about Mia and forgetting the rest of us exist.’

I blink, shaking off my reverie. ‘Sorry. Wedding brain.’

‘Wedding brain or Mia brain?’ Austin teases.

‘Both,’ I admit, not even bothering to deny it. ‘She just… she makes everything better. Even wedding planning stress.’

Hector and Austin exchange a look, one that’s equal parts exasperated and fond.

‘You’ve got it bad,’ Hector says, but he’s smiling. ‘Alright, alright. Black tux it is. But don’t say I didn’t try to spice things up.’

‘Your efforts are duly noted and appreciated,’ I say solemnly. ‘Now, can we please get out of here before you get any more ideas?’

They laugh, but mercifully let me pay for my boring, wonderfully normal tuxedo without further incident. As we leave the shop, Austin calling dibs on driving and Hector already planning the bachelor party, I can’t help but smile.

This might be chaos, but it’s the best kind. The kind that comes from friends who love you, who support you, who only want the best for you.

And right now? With Mia waiting for me, our future spread out like a glittering promise?

I have the very best.

The bachelor party is somehow even worse.

‘I promise it’ll be classy,’ Hector had said when I foolishly let him plan it.

‘Classy’ apparently means dinner at a steakhouse followed by karaoke at a bar with sticky floors and a man in a glittery Elvis costume who serenades me with ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’

‘You’re up next!’ Hector shouts over the music, his face flushed from one too many shots. He drags me toward the stage, ignoring my protests.

‘Not happening,’ I say, digging in my heels. But Hector is nothing if not persistent, and before I know it, I’m standing under the too-bright lights, squinting at the lyrics on the screen.

‘Sing it, Mikey!’ Austin hollers from the crowd, using the nickname he knows I hate. He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, his phone held aloft to document my humiliation.

I shoot him a glare, but it’s lost in the glare of the stage lights. The opening notes of ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ start to play, and I resign myself to my fate.

What follows is less a performance and more a massacre of a classic rock song. I’m hoarse by the end, my dignity left somewhere on that sticky floor, but Hector and Austin are cheering like I’m Jon Bon Jovi himself.

‘Encore!’ Hector shouts, trying to shove the microphone back into my hand.

‘Not a chance,’ I say, shoving it at Elvis instead. ‘I’m done.’

Elvis winks at me, his rhinestones glinting. ‘Thank you, thank you very much.’

I make my escape while Hector is distracted trying to get Elvis’ number ‘for future events, man, he’s amazing,’ and find Austin by the bar.

‘Having fun?’ he asks, sliding a beer my way.

I take a long pull, the cold liquid soothing my abused throat. ‘Time of my life,’ I deadpan.

Austin chuckles. ‘Hey, it could be worse. Remember Pete’s bachelor party?’

I wince. ‘I’ve been trying to forget.’

‘I’m pretty sure my liver is still recovering from that night.’

‘Your liver and my dignity.’

We clink bottles, a silent toast to our fallen comrades.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of more bad singing, too many shots, and Hector trying to convince the Elvis impersonator to officiate the wedding. By the time we stumble out of the bar, I’m exhausted, pretty sure I smell like a distillery, and more than ready to put this particular ‘classy’ event behind me.

But as we pile into a cab, Austin on one side and Hector on the other, both of them belting out ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ at the top of their lungs, I can’t help but smile.

These are my guys. My ride or die. The ones who’ll stand up with me on the biggest day of my life and then promptly embarrass me at the reception.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The next morning, I wake to the sound of giggles drifting down the hallway. I groan, my head pounding and my mouth tasting like something died in it. I’m getting too old for this.

But the giggles are persistent, growing louder as they approach the bedroom. I crack one eye open just in time to see Felicity burst through the door, Mia close behind.

‘Daddy, look!’ Felicity spins in a circle, her flower girl dress flaring out around her. It’s a froth of white tulle and lace, with a big satin bow at the waist. She looks like a tiny angel, her dark curls tumbling around her shoulders and a megawatt smile on her face.

‘I’m a princess,’ she declares, striking a pose.

‘The prettiest princess,’ I agree, pushing myself up on my elbows. My head swims at the movement, but it’s worth it to see the way her face lights up at the compliment.

Mia leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a soft smile playing on her lips. ‘She insisted on showing you first thing.’

‘I picked it out all by myself,’ Felicity says proudly.

‘You did?’ I feign shock. ‘But I thought we were going to go with the biker jacket and tutu combo.’

She giggles, climbing up on the bed to sit beside me. ‘Daddy, that’s not fancy enough.’

‘Ah, my mistake.’ I tap her on the nose, making her laugh again.

Mia joins us, perching on the edge of the bed. She reaches out to smooth Felicity’s hair, her engagement ring catching the morning light. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes my heart clench. This is my family. My girls.

‘Did you thank Mia for taking you dress shopping?’ I ask Felicity.

She nods vigorously. ‘I did. And I thanked her for being the best bonus mommy ever.’

Mia’s eyes widen, her hand stilling on Felicity’s head. For a moment, I’m worried it was too much, too soon. But then Mia smiles, and it’s like the sun coming out.

‘That’s right, sweet pea,’ she says softly. ‘I’m your bonus mommy. And I’m so lucky to have you.’

Felicity beams, throwing her arms around Mia’s neck. Mia hugs her back tightly, her eyes meeting mine over the top of Felicity’s head.

‘Bonus daddy and bonus mommy,’ Felicity singsongs. ‘Now all we need is a puppy!’

We laugh, the tension breaking.

‘Nice try, kiddo,’ I say, ruffling her hair. ‘But I think we’ve got enough excitement going on right now, don’t you?’

She sighs dramatically. ‘I guess.’ But then she brightens, bouncing off the bed. ‘Can I go show Abuela my dress?’

‘Of course,’ Mia says. ‘She’s in the kitchen.’

Felicity takes off like a shot, her dress billowing behind her.

Mia turns to me, her eyes soft. ‘How’re you feeling, champ?’

I groan, flopping back against the pillows. ‘Like I got hit by a truck.’

She laughs, stretching out beside me. ‘I told you to pace yourself.’

‘Hector’s fault,’ I mumble.

‘Of course it was.’ She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. ‘But you had fun, right?’

I think about it—the bad singing, the laughter, the feeling of being surrounded by my best friends on the cusp of this new chapter.

‘Yeah,’ I say, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I did.’

She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. ‘Good. Because you deserve it.’

I pull her down for a kiss, morning breath be damned. She sighs against my lips, her hand coming up to rest on my chest.

It’s a moment of peace in the midst of the chaos, a quiet promise of everything to come.

Later that evening, after Felicity is tucked into bed and the house is quiet, Mia and I sit on the back porch, a bottle of wine between us. The sun has long since set, and the backyard is illuminated by strings of fairy lights we put up on a whim one weekend.

Mia takes a sip of her wine, her head resting on my shoulder. ‘I can’t believe it’s only a week away.’

‘Having second thoughts?’ I tease, though my heart stutters in my chest.

She sits up, her eyes finding mine in the soft light. ‘Never. You?’

‘Not a chance.’ I take her hand, bringing it to my lips to press a kiss to her palm. ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’

She smiles, and it’s like every cliché in every love song I’ve ever heard. My heart skips a beat, my breath catches, and I’m lost in her all over again.

‘I love you,’ she says simply.

‘I love you more.’

She laughs. ‘Not possible.’

‘Very possible.’ I set my wineglass down, turning to face her fully. ‘Mia, I… There aren’t words for what you mean to me. What you’ve brought to my life, to Felicity’s life.’

Her eyes shine in the glow of the fairy lights. ‘Miguel…’

‘I mean it,’ I press on, needing her to hear this. ‘You’ve taken every broken piece of me and helped put me back together. You’ve loved my daughter like she’s your own. You’ve made us a family.’

A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach up to brush it away with my thumb.

‘So yes,’ I say softly. ‘I love you more. I’ll love you more every day for the rest of our lives.’

She surges forward, capturing my lips with hers. The kiss is salty from her tears, but it’s perfect. She’s perfect.

We stay there for a long while, trading soft words and even softer kisses as the stars twinkle above us. It’s a moment suspended in time, a perfect snapshot of this life we’re building together.

A life filled with laughter and chaos and the kind of love I never thought I’d find again.

But here, with Mia in my arms and the promise of forever stretching out ahead of us?

I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.