Page 121 of The Rules We Broke
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.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Iwasn’tsureI’dever seen Brady so happy.
As we walked out of that store, his face was lit with the kind of joy that comes when a hope you didn’t dare ask for suddenly becomes real. I’d had no doubt he would have moved to Atlanta for me. But Aunt Lu was right. The people we loved—everythingwe loved—was here in Kaysville.
And everything I despised, too. Leaving was never going to change those things. But staying might.
And making Brady happy made me happier than I thought possible.
I let him drive us home, and with every mile, the smile in his eyes grew brighter.
We called Benjamin and asked him to meet us at the house. We wanted to tell them together.
Their reaction was everything I’d hoped for—laughter, hugs, and shared excitement. But what surprised me was Benjamin. He looked genuinely relieved. I hadn’t realized what it might’vemeant for him to replace Brady at the bank. Watching them together, I was only beginning to understand how deep that bond ran.
Still, it was my aunt’s reaction I cared most about. She gave me the look—the one that saidI’m proud of youwithout a single word.
If only she’d give Brady the honor of calling him by his actual name.
It was almost comical now. Not only was she refusing to say it—she seemed to be actively working hardernotto say it. Like it might slip out if she let her guard down for just one second.
I didn’t know what held her back. She was happy we were staying, and she understood exactlywhy.Not that she wasn’t a reason worth staying—she was. But it was Brady who made itpossible.
That night, as I lay curled in his arms after she’d gone to bed, he was still scheming. He whispered plans, plots, and half-baked tricks to make her say his name. I laughed and reminded him that kind of defeated the purpose.
I teased him that we had time—our bedroom furniture wouldn’t be delivered until sometime in January. That didn’t matter to Brady. Bed or no bed, he wanted to be married as soon as possible.
I pointed out the obvious:
No formal proposal.
No dress.
No venue.
All the essentials my aunt would insist upon for her only child’s wedding.
He waved them off like they were minor details.
“Ellie,” he said with that mischievous glint in his eye, “the only real question now is . . . where do you want to honeymoon?”
