Epilogue Ellison
Ellison
“Do we have to go? Can’t we just stay here?
We could order in,” I ask my husband. I’m currently eight months pregnant and as big as this house.
I don’t want to go anywhere. Not to mention it’s cold as hell outside.
It’s early December, and the cold has hit Tennessee, and I’m perfectly fine, curled up on the couch and avoiding the outside world all weekend long.
“We do. We won’t be out long. I promised Chandler and Macie we would have lunch with them. She got us something for our baby girl,” he says, rubbing my belly. “Besides, we’re just going to the inn.”
“We need a name,” I say, ignoring the fact that we have to leave the house today and focusing on the reality that our daughter will be making her entrance to the world soon, and we don’t have a name for her yet.
“We have a list,” he reminds me. “We’ll know when we meet her what her name will be. Now, up you go.”
I groan, and he chuckles, helping me sit up before dropping to his knees to put my shoes on me.
“You’re too good to me,” I tell him, running my fingers through his hair. It’s gotten so long, and I tend to run my fingers through it every chance I get.
“Never, Ells. I’ll always take care of my girls.”
Once my shoes are on, he helps me stand, get into my coat, and keeps his arms wrapped around me all the way to his truck. It’s not icy or snowy, just cold as hell, but he’s still making sure I make it to the truck safely.
“We’re just going to have lunch at the inn, right?” I double-check, making sure my pregnancy brain didn’t hear what it wanted to hear. “Why don’t we just walk?”
“Ellison James, if you think I’m going to let my pregnant wife walk to lunch, you’ve lost your damn mind.
” He’s laughing as he says it. He’s protective of me, and I’ll be honest, it might drive me crazy sometimes, but it’s sweet, and I love it.
Then again, there isn’t a single thing I don’t love about my husband.
“It’s right there.” I laugh, pointing to the inn that’s like five hundred feet from us.
I can make the walk. I do it often for work, at least I used to, until it got cold.
I miss the walk, and even though I was just complaining about it being too damn cold to be outside, now that I’m in the fresh air, I want more of it.
Besides, it will be good for me to get some steps in.
I can’t lie around like a bump on a log for this part of the pregnancy.
“Not happening.” His tone is firm yet gentle, and it makes me smile, because I can imagine he’ll use that very voice with our daughter.
“Party pooper,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him.
“I thought you were cold.” He chuckles, helping me up into his truck.
“I was, but the fresh air and a little bit of a walk are good for me.” I bat my eyelashes at him, knowing he’s not going to budge.
“Okay, we’ll go for a walk tomorrow if you’re up for it. Today, I don’t want you to be too tired while we visit.”
“Copeland.” I laugh. “It’s just lunch.”
“Humor me, Ells.”
“Fine.” I peck his lips with a kiss when he leans in and buckles my seat belt. “Do you ever get tired of this? Of taking care of me like you do?” I ask him once he’s behind the wheel.
He turns to look at me, his mouth hanging open as if he can’t believe I asked the question.
I can see the hurt flickering behind his eyes, and my chest tightens painfully.
It wasn’t my intention to upset him. I just worry he’ll get tired of spoiling me and walk away.
Deep down, I know that will never happen; it’s just those old insecurities, and probably some pregnancy hormones, making me voice my concerns that are invalid.
“Never, Ellison,” he says, his voice firm but gentle.
“Don’t ever think that.” He leans over the console.
His hands are warm as they cradle my face, his thumbs brushing under my eyes as if he can erase every doubt I’ve ever carried.
“This was always my plan, baby. To take care of you, of our family. There is nothing I want more than to do that.”
Emotion swells in my chest, thick and overwhelming. Loving him feels like standing in the middle of something larger than life. It’s safe but powerful enough to knock me off my feet. “I love you,” I whisper, the words carrying everything I don’t know how to say.
“I love you, too.” His forehead rests against mine for a moment. Our breaths mingle, and the world shrinks down to just us. When he pulls back, the hurt is gone, but that familiar spark in his eyes remains. “Now, let’s get going. We don’t want to be late, and I need to feed my girls.”
“We’ll be there in a matter of seconds.” I laugh, the heaviness lifting as easily as it came. He flashes me that crooked grin. It’s half charm and half confidence. I can’t help but shake my head. We really could have walked, even with me complaining about the cold.
My husband spoils me and treats me like his queen. I never thought it was possible to feel this way again. I thought Copeland had already taken everything I had to offer. I didn’t think I had more love to give.
I was wrong.
This man, my husband, shows me over and over that love doesn’t run out. It grows. It deepens no matter the distance. And with every laugh, every promise, every quiet moment in between, I fall a little harder than I did the day before. Something I didn’t think was possible.