Chapter 22 #2
“Fuck, Ells, this is… sexy as hell. Where did you get this done?”
“I made an appointment with the shop that did yours, Everlasting Ink in Ashby. They did this temporarily for today. It should last a few weeks. After the baby’s born, I’m going back to get the real thing.”
“Who did it?”
“Roman.”
I nod. “He killed it.”
“It’s just some fancy script.”
“It’s our name on your skin, baby. It’s more than just script.” Bending my head, I press my lips to the tattoo. You can’t tell that it’s not real. Roman did a fantastic job. “I love it, and I love you. So fucking much, Ells.”
“I love you, too. Now, zip me back up. Let’s get this show on the road.” She turns her back to me once more, lifting her hair off her back.
“You sure?” I ask, running my bent index finger down her spine. She shivers at the contact.
“The sooner we change my name, the sooner you get me out of this dress.”
“Enough said.” I zip her up and step in front of her.
“You look handsome,” she says, resting her hands on my chest. “I’ve never told you how proud I am of you, Copeland. You chose to serve our country, and even though it took you away from me, it’s a huge sacrifice you made. Thank you, babe. I’m so proud of you.”
I nod because I can’t seem to find my words.
I enlisted in the Marines to provide for her if something ever happened to me.
It ended up being a huge part of what tore us apart, and now she’s thanking me.
I don’t know what I did to deserve a second chance with this incredible woman, but I thank my lucky stars every damn day for having her back in my life.
“You got my ring?” she asks.
I clear my throat, swallowing back the emotions that are threatening my ability to speak. “Yeah. You got mine?”
She lifts her hand to show me the tungsten ring on her thumb.
“Let’s go get married, baby.” I offer her my arm.
She grins, slips her arm into mine, and we pull open the door. We don’t run into anyone in the house, but as soon as we step out on the patio, there are gasps, and suddenly, all eyes are on us.
“Thank you for coming,” Ellison says, her voice loud and clear. “We invited you here to celebrate the holiday with those we love, but also, well, we wanted you here to watch us get married.”
“No way!” Baylor shouts.
“You didn’t tell us,” Courtlynn accuses.
“About time.” Leighton smiles.
“Cope?” I turn to look at my mom. “You’re getting married? Today?” she asks, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“We are. You okay with that?” I smirk, because we all know she’s more than okay with it. She lied to get me to stay at Magnolia Manor.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She moves to get up, and Chandler is at her side, helping her stand.
She makes her way toward us as she loses her battle with her tears, which race freely down her cheeks.
“I’ve wanted this for you for so long. I’m so happy for both of you.
” She hugs us both. “Welcome to the family, Ellison.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Ellison replies softly.
“Wait. Who’s marrying you?” Bowen asks.
“I’m sure they have it under control,” Courtlynn sasses him.
“Just a question, brat,” he fires back, his lips lifted in a smile. Courtlynn rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment.
“I’ve got that taken care of,” her grandpa says, puffing out his chest. “This way.” He nods toward the tree in the backyard.
I meet Chandler’s eyes, and he nods, letting me know he’s got Mom. Macklin rushes to her side, and the two of them walk her toward the tree, while Bowen and Dixon grab the lounger she was sitting in so she can be comfortable.
“Ready, Ells?” I ask her, pressing my lips to her temple.
“Beyond ready.” She smiles.
Together, arms linked, we make a slow, steady descent toward the tree as everyone we love gathers around us.
The ceremony is brief, and exactly the way we dreamed it would be.
Her grandpa’s voice wavers with emotion as he reaches the final words: “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland James. Copeland, you may kiss your bride.”
“Finally,” I announce with exaggerated relief, earning a round of laughter from our friends and family.
But I hardly hear them. All my focus is on the woman beside me—my wife.
I step in close, one arm curling around her waist, the other sliding behind her neck.
I don’t bother with words. Instead, I lower my head and capture her mouth with mine.
My wife.
The words hit me with a quiet, overwhelming force.
I pull her closer, drawn to her as if there’s a thread pulling between our hearts. That thread now tethers us together, in love, in marriage, and in name.
The kiss is gentle at first, then deeper as her hands find their place against my shoulders. The crowd erupts into applause, but it feels distant, muffled, unimportant.
For this frozen moment, under the shade of the old tree, with our friends and families cheering, our future is wide open. It’s just her and me, and our unborn child—still only a whisper of a heartbeat, a promise more than a presence—feels like a third pulse in the space between our bodies.