Page 80 of The Rules We Broke
She hesitated. “I came to love him,” she whispered, like it was something she’d never said aloud.
“If you didn’t love him, why did you marry him?”
She didn’t respond. So, I unscrewed the cap and began painting her nails.
Several minutes passed quietly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just waiting.
Then she spoke.
“Ella Lu, I’m not proud of my decision. But he knew I didn’t love him when we said our vows. He loved me, though. He promised to be such a good husband that I wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with him.”
Her voice dropped lower.
“He was older, very charming, and wealthy. And I was desperate to escape my life at the time. So, I agreed.”
I kept my eyes on her nails, hoping the rhythm of small strokes would help her feel more comfortable.
“How long did it take you to fall in love with him?”
She hesitated. “Longer than it should have.”
“Do you regret it?”
Her gaze flicked toward me. “Ella Lu, where are all these questions coming from?”
I finished the last stroke of taupe polish, then gently closed the bottle and set it aside. I looked into her eyes, searching for answers.
“Brady wants to marry me.”
Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“Well, he was all for the courthouse this morning.” I smiled. “So, I told him no.”
“No child of mine will marry at the courthouse.”
“That’s what I said, too. He’s willing to wait until I’m ready—until I’m sure—and then marry me properly at the church.”
She looked stoic, but I saw it. The sadness tucked behind her composure. Something was stirring.
“Aunt Lu, could you accept Brady? Maybe even love him?”
She drew in a breath. “Accepting him and loving him are two very different things, sugar.”
“Okay,” I said gently, “then let’s start with the accepting part.”
Her eyes met mine, darker now, thoughtful. “Does he make you happy, Ella Lu?”
My eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Yes, he does. But I can’t stand the thought of disappointing you— of upsetting you again.”
She reached for my cheek with careful grace, mindful of her freshly painted nails.
“Oh, sugar,” she whispered, “I’ve never been disappointed in you.”
“Yes, you have. I remember that night in the pastor’s office—when you found out I’d been seeing Brady.”
Her gaze softened, the memory flickering in her eyes.
“Ella Lu, I wasn’t disappointed. I was worried. I saw myself in you that night. The way you looked at that Jackson boy—it was how I used to look at his daddy. And that boy looked and acted just like his father.”
