Chapter 19
Nineteen
Ellison
Copeland’s lips press against my bare shoulder. “Morning, wife,” he mumbles sleepily.
My belly flips. “Fiancée,” I correct him, rolling over to my back. His hair that’s growing out is mussed, sleep lines mar his cheek, but his eyes, they’re lit up. Then he goes and turns that grin on me.
“Two weeks, Ells. I don’t know if you remember or not, but last night, you agreed to be my wife, and then this—” He spreads his hand over my belly. “Our baby,” he says reverently.
“How could I forget?” I ask, placing my hand on top of his.
“I guess we need to start making calls, telling people to plan for a wedding.” He grins.
“We could do that, or we could surprise them.”
“What are you thinking, baby?”
“What if we invite them all to a Fourth of July party? We don’t tell them it’s to get married. My grandpa is ordained. He’s performed tons of weddings here on the estate. We could tell him and my grandma, and your mom if you want, but our friends, even my sisters, we surprise them.”
“Edith was working at the pharmacy last night. I asked her not to say anything, but I don’t know how much time we have,” he says, chuckling.
“Well, it’s a good thing it’s only two weeks. We’ll stop to see Edith and tell her about the wedding. She’ll love that she’s in the loop before anyone else, and will keep quiet for at least until the party.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, I know so. To be able to boast that she knew it was going down, she’ll be all over that. She’ll be the queen of town gossip after this, at least until something else more interesting happens.”
“Not sure what’s more interesting than our second chance at love, Ells.” He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. “I’m game for however you want to play this.”
“Will your mom mind? Will she feel up to it?”
“She has chemo next week, so she should be feeling better by that weekend. If not, I know my mom is going to fake it until she makes it. She’s going to love the idea of everyone gathering at her house. She’s told me several times how much she enjoyed the Memorial Day get-together.”
“And we have to get a marriage license. I think we should wait until the Friday before,” I tell him. “Then we can bribe whoever’s working that day to keep quiet until Sunday.”
“Perfect. So, what do I need to do?”
“You have your uniform?”
“Yes. I’m all set there.”
“Invite the guys, and anyone else you want there. Tell your mom at least about the party, and the wedding if you want.”
“Kip,” he says. “He was my best friend in the Marines. We met in boot camp, and he heard me talk about you all those years. So, yeah, I want him here. I want to invite him and his wife and his daughter.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” I tell him.
“What else?”
“I’ll talk to Alice about the food. She’ll be all over it.” I laugh. “You know how Alice is. She loves to cook, and a party, what better reason?”
“We need a cake.”
“Actually, I’ll just tell Alice to make cupcakes. I’ll pay her extra for this, obviously.”
“I’ll pay her. Just tell me how much you need,” he offers.
I smile at him, resting my palm against his cheek. “I’ll handle that.” He kisses my palm.
“Together, Ells. What’s mine is yours now.”
“We’ll need it for this one,” I say, nodding to where our hands still rest over my belly.
“Where are we going to live? Here?”
“You want to live with my sisters?”
“I don’t care if we live in a she shed, as long as we’re together.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “Yeah, that’s a hard pass on the she shed.” I grin.
“Yeah, we can live here, at least until we decide where we want to be.”
“All things we can work out before this little peanut gets here.”
“We’re having a baby, Cope.” Tears well in my eyes. It’s still so hard to wrap my head around finally having everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Our first.” He winks.
“We always said three.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. He sits up and climbs out of bed. “We’ve got a party to spread the word about.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Not until you come with me,” he says, stepping into his shorts.
“I kind of want to grab breakfast and then go to the attic and dig out Mom’s dress. I need to make sure it fits, and if not, I’ll go to plan B.”
“What’s plan B?”
I shrug. “I buy something. I don’t need an actual wedding dress. I can find something white, even though”—I glance down at my belly—“that ship kind of sailed.”
“White, Ells. Our love is pure, and that’s all that matters.” He braces his arms on the bed and leans in for a kiss. “I’ll order us some food from the diner, and go pick it up while you get ready. What about your sisters?”
“They didn’t come home last night. They were staying in Nashville, so it will be later before they’re home.”
“Okay. Love you,” he says, kissing me and walking out of the room as he pulls his shirt on over his head.
Tossing off the covers, I climb out of bed to get ready for the day.
We have a lot to do, but the thought doesn’t stress me out.
Instead, it excites me, gives me a boost of adrenaline.
After all these years, we found our way back to each other.
We’ve pushed the past behind us, and we’re only looking forward.
Forward to the life we’ve always dreamed about.
“Ready?” I ask Copeland, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I feel like a kid on Christmas. I know my mom’s dress is up there. I hope it fits. We have minimal time for alterations.
He grins. “Lead the way, baby.” He holds out his hand for me, and I take it, leading him upstairs to the hallway, where the ladder comes down out of the ceiling to access the attic.
“When I was little, I used to beg my mom to let me play in her wedding dress. She never let us, but she did let us all try it on once. There are pictures somewhere. My sisters thought it was cool, but I’m the only one who ever wanted to be married in it.”
“I hope this little attic adventure is a success, then,” he tells me, reaching up to lower the ladder. “I want our wedding to be everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“It’s not the dress, the food, the flowers, or anything else that makes the wedding, Copeland. It’s the bride and the groom. We could go to the city hall, as far as I’m concerned. I just need you to be my husband at the end of it. I don’t care how we get there, as long as we get there.”
“Up the steps, Ells, before I drag you back into your room and have my way with you.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I tease.
“Only promises, baby.” He smacks my ass lightly. I yelp as I reach for the steps and start to climb.
“Be careful,” he says.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. As soon as I’m in the attic, he steps onto the ladder and climbs through the opening to join me.
“Wow, this is very organized,” he says.
“Yeah, my mom was like that. There are totes for each of us girls, and totes from when she and Dad were dating and all through their marriage.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that our house needs to have an attic or storage space for a tote for each of our kids, and for us.” He winks.
“Probably.” I chuckle, moving further into the attic.
“This one is mine,” I say, pointing at the tote that has my name written on it in black marker.
Sadness washes over me. I have not been up here since before my parents died.
There are so many family memories stored up here.
One day, my sisters and I need to go through it all.
I’m sure it will be an emotional event, but one that I think could be healing for all four of us.
“Looks like you got two. Maybe because you were the oldest?” Copeland says, pointing to the smaller, shoebox-sized tote with my name on it, as well.
“I don’t know. Let’s open it and find out.” Reaching for the small plastic tote, I pull off the lid and stare into the box. I’m confused at first. It looks like mail, but when I lift one of the envelopes to see what it is, my heart stops.
No.
This can’t be what I think it is. Right?
I stare down at the envelope in my hands as it trembles. “Cope.” My voice cracks. I lift my head, peering at him through wet eyes.
“What is it? Are you okay?” He’s at my side immediately, wrapping his arms around me. “Oh, shit,” he mutters when he sees what I’m holding. “My letters.”
“My letters,” I correct him. “I don’t understand, Copeland. Why are these here?”
“I don’t know, baby,” he says softly.
Dipping my hand into the tote, I bring out more letters.
All addressed to me, from Copeland. Every single one of them sealed.
“I don’t understand,” I say, reaching in and pulling out envelope after envelope.
Finally, at the bottom of the tote, there’s one that looks different.
It has my name on it, but it’s never been mailed, and it’s my mother’s handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.
“My mom,” I rasp. My throat feels like I’ve been eating gravel. “It’s her handwriting,” I add.
“Do you want to read it?” Copeland asks. His tone is gentle, and his arms are still wrapped tightly around my waist. Dropping the letters back into the tote, I turn in his arms, and my hands move to his cheeks as I stare into his dark brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ells.”
“They’re here. The letters I accused you of never writing, they’re here. In my house, but I swear to you, I didn’t know, Copeland. I didn’t know,” I say, dropping my hands from his face, and a sob fractures the air as I rest my forehead against his chest and cry.
“Shhh, baby, don’t cry. Come on, Ells, you’re breaking my heart.” He gently strokes his hand up and down my back to soothe me, but it’s not working.
I went years thinking that this incredible man didn’t want me.
That I wasn’t enough. That the dreams we had, the plans we made for our future, were all just a game to him.
I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, missing him while trying not to love him.
I compared every man I met to him, and no one could ever measure up.
Not to Copeland.
“Ellison?” he says, his tone gentle.