21. Ellie
Chapter twenty-one
Ellie
Iwaddle into the sunroom where Hunter is sitting with our coffee. “Good mornin’, Hunt.”
It’s cold this morning but Hunter’s started the fire in the wood-burning stove. Outside the windows, frost coats the ground and fog hangs low over the ridgeline.
“Mornin’, Ells. Sleep okay?” I plop onto the couch and Hunter hands me a blanket and my coffee. I take a sip of my morning elixir.
Man, he makes it just right. Which makes me wonder if he’ll make me coffee forever. And then I want to smack myself for having such an errant thought. I need to just be grateful that Hunter’s here for me right now.
“Not really. It’s getting harder and harder to get comfortable. Don’t be surprised if you get up one morning and find me sleeping in DeeDee’s old recliner.”
“I wish I could help you.” Hunter blows on his coffee with his plump lips, and I avert my eyes quickly as I can. He’s gonna think I think he’s a piece of meat if I can’t control myself and my eyes.
Get it together, Ellie.
“Yeah, I wish. I don’t know how, though.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the fire crackling in the corner, until Hunter says, “If you think it would help you relax, I could rub your shoulders and neck before you lie down. Maybe if you’re more relaxed, even if you aren’t comfortable, you’ll fall asleep.”
“Umm …” Would it help, or would it be … the opposite of relaxing? “Yeah, that could help. We can try. Thank you.” My voice is coming out too high and strangled. What is happening? I clear my throat. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“Nothing’s too sweet for you, Ells.”
I feel my bottom lip tremble at his words. Hunter seems to catch on and puts his arm around me. “No matter how anyone has treated you in the past … you deserve the best anyone can give, Ellie.” He squeezes me against him. “The best.”
Tears spill over onto my cheeks.
Hunter sets his coffee down and then reaches to swipe away my tears with his thumb. “I bet you have a crazy dream you can tell me about,” he says softly, pulling me closer.
“I do, actually.” I sniffle, burrowing into his warmth. “It had bears in it.”
“Great already. You love bears.” His gentle voice makes me think Hunter will be an amazing dad. Which only makes the tears come harder.
“I really do,” I say on a laugh/sob. I’d been next-level jealous last Christmas when Cleo had a bear in her hot tub and I wasn’t there to see it.
“So. I was tubing down a river, and it was so full of people, and everyone was so loud. It was not the relaxing tubing experience I’d hoped for. ” Slowly, my tears ebb.
“That sounds terrible.” Hunter’s face shows mock concern, and it’s so cute. Geez.
“It was. So I closed my eyes to try to tune everyone out, but my tube bumped into another tube. I opened my eyes and instead of a person, it was a bear. I looked around and it was a family of bears tubing. Then, I reached out, and I touched its paw.”
“Dangerous. You’re so brave.”
I know he’s being silly, but the thought of Hunter calling me brave makes me laugh. “The bear just looked at me, and I knew he didn’t mind that I touched him.”
Hunter smooths a hand down my hair. “That’s it?” He laughs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you made it out unscathed, but I was really hoping the bear spoke to you or something.”
“I can only hope that one day a bear will speak to me in a dream.”
He chuckles, his laughter sending vibrations straight to my chest. I snuggle against him, soaking up his warmth and goodness. The whole time I’m thinking, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
After breakfast, when I’d declared I wanted to go buy a book, Hunter said, “Let’s go.”
The bookstore is cozy and always smells like sugar. It’s a wonder the place isn’t filled to capacity every day. Though there are people like my mom who find the disorganized nature of the shelves overwhelming. She won’t come here.
While similar items are grouped together, there are books stuck absolutely everywhere.
Celeste, the owner of the Milky Way Café and Bookshop, has been very creative with her book storage, my favorite spot being a vintage oven housing cookbooks.
That actually works well, but the old crates stacked on their side, filled to bursting, are less than ideal.
Still, I’m always able to find what I need.
“I meant to tell you last time you were in here that I love your haircut,” Celeste tells me.
“Ah, thank you. It took me some time to get used to it, but I like it too.”
Celeste pushes her glasses up her nose. “I’m glad. It really does suit you.”
Her dark curls bounce as she whips her head to the door at the jingle of the bell. An older man walks in. She lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to me.
“I was in here by myself yesterday when a couple of teenagers opened the door, threw an open can of Cheerwine right where you’re standing, and ran off. I went out to look and found that they had stolen the rain hat the pig was wearing.”
I have no idea how the tradition started, but as long as I can remember the businesses on Main Street have had “porch pigs”—a carved pig statue holding the business’s sign—and there’s an unofficial competition as to which pig is best dressed.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And I picked the can up, and they’d written ‘books suck’ on it.”
Poor introverted, sweet as pie, Celeste. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry that happened.”
“Yeah, well. I’m assuming they won’t come back, but it’s got me on edge a bit.”
“I imagine it would.”
She smiles and I can see her put on her brave face, but her voice sounds stressed and resigned. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s okay to not be fine, you know.” I reach out and grab Celeste’s hand. “They were just teens being dumb, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t scary. I’m sure you'll be alright, though. They’ve done their dumb thing here, and they’ll move on to do something dumb somewhere else.”
“Thanks, Ellie.” She squeezes my hand and lets it go. “You’re probably right. I need to stop letting those hooligans get to me.” She laughs, and her true smile graces her face.
“Those silly hooligans.” I join her laughter.
She smiles at me and it transforms Celeste’s face into something so lovely that it makes my chest burst. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s Celeste. I just wonder where she’ll find it.
“Let me know if I can help you find anything,” she says.
“Will do.” I smile and head toward Hunter, who’s browsing nearby. I step beside him and find that he is looking at how-to books about babies.
Be still my beating heart—this man.
“I heard what you said to Celeste. You saw through her to how she was really feeling and helped lift her up. You’ve always been that way, you know?” He throws an arm around me and squeezes. “I always loved that about you.”
“Cleo, he said loved. Past tense.” When Hunter and I got home from the bookstore, I’d driven straight to Cleo’s. We were due for a visit anyway.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t still. He was probably just saying that he has always loved that and he still does.”
I lean my head on the back of Cleo’s couch. “I feel like I can’t trust myself. Like every thought I have I need to question or double check. And forget acting or speaking without thinking.”
“Pregnancy hormones are no joke. My cousin told me stories from when she was pregnant. She was burning bridges left and right, and after she had the baby and things settled down, she looked back and couldn’t believe all that she’d done.
I mean, that’s not to say that she didn’t have plenty of times when she acted normally, but still.
It’s always good to double-check your feelings or just wait. You’re getting so close.”
I struggle to lean up to pick my sweet tea off the coffee table, feeling like a beached whale. “That’s true.”
Cleo, seeing my struggle, hands me the sweet tea and I lean back.
“But anyway, trust me,” Cleo says. “Hunter did not mean he loved you past tense.”
I nod, sipping my tea through the straw, wondering if she’s right—and wondering why I care so much if Hunter loves me like that.