23. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
We’d rushed home with high hopes. But Aunt Lu didn’t say Brady’s name, and she didn’t offer him a miracle either.
Still, she was more pleasant than she had been. Another step forward.
Brady left earlier than usual. He seemed drained—by traffic, by his interview, but mostly by the thought of leaving Kaysville.
He said all the right things. Promised it didn’t matter where we lived, as long as it was together. And I believed him. But a small part of me worried.
Worried that leaving Kaysville would eat at him in ways even love couldn’t soothe.
After he left, Aunt Lu and I sat down to work on our puzzle. She clocked my mood instantly.
“You’re thinking too loud again,” she said, examining the edge pieces.
I glanced at her. “Brady seemed off tonight.”
She nodded. “He wasn’t his usual cheerful self.”
“I think he’s struggling with the idea of leaving Kaysville. I know he means what he says. I just don’t want him to wake up years from now and resent me.”
She placed a piece down, then looked up. “Ella Lu, do you love Atlanta?”
I thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say I love it. I like it. It’s convenient.”
She folded her hands. “Besides that—why do you live there?”
I exhaled. “Honestly? Because it’s close to you.”
That earned me the look.
“You know what’s closer to me? Kaysville.”
I leaned back against the couch and sighed. “Why would I want to live in a town where half the people despise me because of my last name?”
“You forget, young lady,” she said sharply, “you’re about to become a Jackson. And everyone you love lives here.” She paused, then added, “That boy loves this town. Loves his job. And he’s good at it. Since he was made VP, the bank’s had its best years ever.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She sniffed. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me.” Heaven forbid she compliment him.
I sat up and smiled at her.
“Sugar,” she said softly, “people will always talk. That doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
“What about his parents?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What about them? Don’t let them stand between you and your happiness. I did that for far too many years.”
Aunt Lu’s words played on a loop in my head all night. Not just her advice—but the weight behind it. The years she’d spent letting other people shape her choices. I wasn’t going to do that—not with Brady. Not with us.
By morning, I knew exactly what to give him for Christmas.
I called Kendra and asked if she and Caroline could come stay with my aunt for a few hours even though I knew how busy the Saturday before Christmas was. And the older Jackson brothers were already rolling into town, but she didn’t hesitate.
A couple hours later, they arrived, buzzing with curiosity. Everyone wanted to know what I was up to. I gave them my best mysterious smile and said I’d explain later. Brady deserved to hear it first.
Still, judging by the look Aunt Lu gave me, she already knew.
I drove to Brady’s house as fast as I could without breaking any major laws. My fingers gripped the steering wheel. My heart hammered with anticipation.
As I pulled into his driveway, the view spread out like a sigh. The porch, the craftsmanship, every small detail of his home—it was all him. And I loved every inch of it.
I got out, walked to the door, and knocked.
Excitement building in my chest. And some nerves. I was about to change my life in a big, big way.
He answered the door quicker than I expected—still in a T-shirt and jeans, but I could tell I’d caught him mid-shave.
A streak of shaving cream clung to his jaw, framing that smile I adored.
“Darlin’, what are you doing here?”
I stepped in without answering, reached up, and wiped the shaving cream from his face with the pad of my thumb. His skin was warm beneath my touch, freshly scrubbed and still damp from the steam.
I didn’t wait another second.
I leaned in and kissed him hard—fingers tangling in his shirt, heart pounding so loud I swore he could hear it.
He responded like I’d just flipped a switch. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in so close my toes nearly lifted off the floor. He tasted of mint and adrenaline and something completely Brady.
My back met the wall. His hand cupped the side of my face, anchoring me in the moment.
This wasn’t a polite hello. This was one of those soul-stirring, forget my last name, forget the time, forget the plan kind of kisses.
When he finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, he whispered against my lips, “On second thought, I don’t care why you’re here. Let’s do this all day.”
Still wrapped in his arms, I smiled. “Sounds perfect. But first—I need you to come somewhere with me.”
He cocked his head. “Alright, darlin’, let me finish getting ready.”
He kissed my forehead—slow and sure—before disappearing down the hall.
I waited by the door, heart jittery and eager to get going. One glance around his house confirmed what I already knew. I was making the right decision.
It wouldn’t be easy—but when was doing the right thing ever easy?
It didn’t take him long. Once he returned, still adjusting his cuffs, I grabbed his hand and led him to my car.
He tried to veer toward his truck, but I steered him back.
“I’m driving,” I said.
Still the gentleman, he opened my door with a smirk.
“Where are we going?” he asked as I backed out of his drive.
“You’ll see.”
His curiosity flickered behind his eyes, but he settled into the seat, relaxed. “I’m all yours.”
“I like the sound of that.”
As we cruised toward Birmingham, the green-and-white sign for the airport loomed up ahead. Brady sat up straighter.
“Please tell me we’re going to Vegas,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice.
I laughed, glancing his way. “This is better than Vegas.”
He leaned in, hopeful. “Okay . . . Atlantic City?”
“Brady,” I said, amused, “do you really want to get married in one of those places?”
He reached over and touched my cheek, gentle as ever. “I just want to get married. I don’t care where.”
“Well, I do. And believe me—my aunt definitely does. I want to get married in our church.”
He looked at me, half confused, half still dreaming of us hopping on a plane to elope. “What’s better than getting married today ?”
“Okay,” I admitted, “maybe it’s not better. But I promise, you’ll love it. Okay?”
He gave a hesitant smile. “Okay.” But I could tell he was still trying to puzzle me out.
Now I worried that I’d dashed his hopes.
The sparkle in his eye had dulled somewhere between Birmingham and the parking lot, and when we pulled into the crowded outdoor mall, disappointment settled on his face like a cracked foundation.
“Darlin’,” he asked carefully, “did you mean to come here? I thought you finished your Christmas shopping.”
“I thought I had,” I said with a smile. “Turns out I neglected one person on my list—and I need your help.”
He looked confused. Disappointed. Maybe even a little betrayed.
I let him be that way for a moment. Then I got out of the car and leaned back in. “Aren’t you coming?”
He gave me the kind of look reserved for someone who’d truly lost their minds, but he climbed out anyway.
At the passenger side, I grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
He followed, reluctant and grumbling under his breath, as we weaved through the packed sidewalks teeming with last-minute shoppers. Saturday before Christmas might be a terrible day to shop—but this would be worth it.
When we reached our destination, he frowned. “Pottery Barn? Really, Ellie?”
“Believe me,” I said, tugging him along, “this is significantly better than Vegas.”
He shook his head, clearly wondering how I’d gone from romantic mystery to sofa displays. But I was undeterred.
A cheerful associate named Logan greeted us at the entrance. “How can I help you today?”
“Could you please direct us to your bedroom furniture?” I asked.
Brady blinked.
Logan smiled and led us toward the back of the store.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” he said, before disappearing into the crowd.
The moment he was gone, Brady turned to me. “What’s this all about?”
“I finally figured out what to get you for Christmas.”
“Bedroom furniture?”
“Well,” I said, brushing my fingers along a Seadrift wood headboard, “we can’t exactly sleep on a futon forever.”
Brady’s brow softened. His lips tugged into a tentative smile. “What are you saying, Ellie?”
I reached up and rested my hand on his cheek. “I’m saying I love you. And I want us to live in Kaysville.” Were those words a little hard to say? Yes. But I knew they were the right words.
His hand came up to cover mine—strong, warm, trembling just slightly. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I’ve never been surer about anything.”
“Merry Christmas, Brady.”