18. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Doris arrived early Saturday morning, and I wasted no time begging her for help.
I was finally stepping into the Jacksons’ lair for dinner, and I needed backup—specifically, dessert.
If Brady was willing to fight my battles, I owed it to him to do the same.
My expectations for the evening were low—basement-level low—but darn it, I was going to bring my A-game. Or at least Doris’s.
She was more than happy to oblige.
“I’ve got the perfect recipe. It’ll wow them,” she promised.
I trusted her completely. She suggested a lemon raspberry coconut layered cake. It sounded like something out of a fancy Southern bridal shower—beautiful, complex, and absolutely above my skill level. But Doris was undeterred and swore she’d guide me through every step.
It took all morning, and by the time we were done, the cake perched proudly on a frosted glass stand, delicate curls of coconut catching the light like lace. I hoped it tasted half as good as it looked.
“It’ll taste better ,” Doris assured me with full conviction.
I thanked her profusely.
“My pleasure. You know I’ll help anytime.”
I probably should’ve asked her for cooking lessons years ago—but there was no turning back time. I hugged her tightly and headed off to the hospital to see Aunt Lu.
On the way, Brady called.
“I’ll pick you up at six. And remember—I love you.”
“It’s the only reason I’m doing this,” I muttered, trying to slow the thrum of nerves.
“It’ll be great. My parents just need to get to know you. To know you is to love you.”
“You’re biased.”
“Guilty. See you soon.”
His confidence made it sound simple. It wasn’t. You didn’t erase forty-plus years of bitterness with one slice of cake or even a whole cake for that matter.
At the hospital, I raced up to my aunt’s room and found her sitting upright in a chair—more alert and herself than I’d seen her in days. She’d even taken a short walk earlier.
I was so ready for her to come home. I could tell she was, too.
I sat beside her and watched as she gave me a funny sort of look—equal parts suspicion, amusement, and something close to mischief.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve had some interesting phone calls this morning about you.”
“Who would call you about me?”
“Let’s just say it sounds like you and that Jackson boy put on quite a show last night at Macie’s.”
My jaw tightened. Of course, the gossip grapevine was thriving. I was an adult—we weren’t putting on a show. Was it my fault that a few hand-holding moments and one kiss turned into breaking news in Kaysville?
Aunt Lu caught the storm brewing on my face and smirked.
“I hope you don’t believe that,” I said.
“So the Jackson boy doesn’t want to marry you, and you weren’t being affectionate?”
I exhaled through my nose. “Yes, that part’s true. But we weren’t performing. The whole town finds us fascinating, apparently, and it’s exhausting. We can’t even go out without people staring or whispering. It’s ridiculous.”
She reached for the remote but didn’t press play. “Calm down, sugar.” Her voice was soft. Amused.
I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . stressed today.”
“Why’s that?”
I bit my lip, the truth heavy on my tongue. “I’m having dinner with Brady’s parents.”
She gripped my hand and pursed her lips.
“I know,” was all I could say.
“I don’t like it, Ella Lu.”
“Do you think I do? But I promised Brady. He loves me and I love him, and we want to get married. But I can’t do that until I know our families won’t tear us apart again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ella Lu, who do you think arranged your meeting with him?”
“Aunt Lu, I’m not blaming you or accusing you of anything. I know you’ll support me. I know that’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make for my happiness. And I can’t express how much that means to me. I just want everyone to be happy. I can’t stand the thought of causing discord in our families.”
“Ella Lu, you could never do anything that would keep me away from you. You’re my girl, and we’re forever.
As for being happy about that boy and you, that’s a tall order.
I know he makes you happy, but I can’t forget all the sadness he and his family caused you these last ten years.
Someday, you’ll understand what it’s like for a momma to watch her daughter be in pain and not be able to make it better. ”
“But you did figure out how to make it better.”
She gave me a dry look. “So, you’re saying I can only blame myself for bringing that boy into our family.”
I laughed. “That works for me.”
I didn’t spend too much longer with her, but I think we left things on a good note.
I needed to get some personal Christmas shopping done, and I wanted to look my best tonight.
I still didn’t know what to get Brady. I mean, I knew what he wanted, but I didn’t know if that would happen by Christmas.
My aunt still seemed determined to call him “that Jackson boy,” and who knew what tonight would bring?
I didn’t get any good ideas of what to get Brady as I perused the stores, but I picked out the perfect gift for Benjamin and Kendra.
I got them a romantic getaway package, including hotel and spa accommodations at a swanky hotel downtown, and I would throw in a weekend of babysitting.
I also picked out a few items for my Aunt Lu and added several new outfits to my Alabama wardrobe. Then I rushed home to get ready.
I curled my hair into soft waves and pulled it up, leaving just enough loose strands to frame my face.
I wore tailored jeans that hugged my curves—Aunt Lu probably wouldn’t approve, but Brady definitely would.
I paired them with a crisp white blouse and a fitted black jacket that cinched perfectly at the waist. Red jewelry and ruby red pumps completed the look.
Bold, playful, and just the right amount of rebellious.
I had ten minutes to spare. Or so I thought.
The doorbell rang as I reached the stairs.
I opened the door to find Brady—ever handsome—holding a large bouquet of pink roses—my favorite. He paused to take me in, gaze roaming like he was soaking me up.
“All I can say is—wow.”
He shifted the flowers to his left hand, then pulled me close with his right and kissed me softly.
“You look amazing,” he said.
I smiled and wiped the lipstick off his lips.
“I know I never won a pageant. But do you think I’ll pass your parents’ inspection?”
“Darlin’, you are a beauty. And hands down, I’ll have the best-looking wife in my family. I couldn’t care less what they think. Honestly, I’m grateful you never entered one of those pageants.”
My heart flipped. I kissed him again. So long, he was wearing more lipstick than me. At this point, I should invest in lip balm.
My lips weren’t used to all this action.
I led Brady to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. I also wanted to show him the cake Doris and I had made. He was impressed.
“Thank you for going with me tonight—and for all the trouble you’ve gone through,” he said.
“I suppose you’re worth it.” I grinned. “But promise me you won’t leave my side the entire night.”
“I have no intention of leaving your side. Ever.”
I liked the sound of that. A lot.
I took a few deep breaths as we carried the cake out together. Brady kept glancing over with tentative smiles. I think he felt guilty.
I just hoped I would make it through dinner without embarrassing myself—or tossing my cookies. My stomach was in full rebellion.
The ride was quiet. Brady kept his hand on my leg and gave it gentle squeezes now and then. I hated that it was like this. For most couples, dinner with the parents was something to celebrate. For us, it felt like trial by fire.
The Jackson mansion gleamed with thousands of white twinkle lights. It really was beautiful. My aunt used to have her house professionally decorated every Christmas. I wondered when she stopped. I should ask.
Before we got out, Brady leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.
“I love you.”
“I know,” I whispered, heart racing.
He touched my cheek. “Just be yourself.”
“I don’t know how to be anyone else.”
“Thank goodness for that, darlin’. Are you ready?”
“If I say no, can we leave?”
“Ellie, we’ll leave right now if you don’t want to do this.”
I looked into his impossibly blue eyes and reminded myself why I was doing this. For us. For forever.
I pictured myself dressed in white, walking toward Brady. A honeymoon. A life of never having to say goodbye again.
I took one last breath. “Let’s do this.”
Brady smiled as he stepped out of the truck. I handed him the cake, and he helped me down, balancing the dessert in one hand and my fingers in the other.
The circular drive reminded me of Aunt Lu’s, though instead of a grand fountain, the Jacksons had a meticulously trimmed sitting area—benches nestled among manicured trees and shrubbery.
Their house was larger than ours—red brick with a porch that spanned the entire front, flanked by two massive wings. I didn’t care about the size, but I had a feeling they did.
Brady didn’t knock, which I supposed made sense. It was his parents’ home, after all. But part of me wished we’d stalled—just for a minute more.
Inside, the entryway was broad and bright, with gleaming floors and high ceilings. Dead center stood a towering white Christmas tree dressed in red and green.
“I hate that tree,” Brady whispered.
Thank goodness. I knew he was a real-tree kind of guy—just like me.
We walked along a hall lined with family portraits. Every face wore an impeccable smile, every pose pristine. It was like walking through a photo shoot for a holiday catalog.
At our house, the photos were of candid moments and unplanned laughter. We had posed ones, too, but those were rarely anyone’s favorite.
I clung to Brady’s hand and stayed close, jittery, and braced myself like I’d stepped into a haunted house—unsure of what might pop out around the next corner.
“Momma, we’re here,” Brady called.