Page 94 of The Rules We Broke
“It’s not horrible.” I grinned.
Brady leaned his forehead against mine. “Remember all our plans. How we were going to change this town? We still can.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do. Ellie, our love has survived ten years apart. That says something.”
I supposed it did. People had been trying from the beginning to keep us apart, but somehow, we always found a way. Even now. And Brady was right, I wouldn’t feel good about moving on with our relationship until there was some peace between our families.
How could we have that if I kept running from his?
I exhaled loudly. “All right, I’ll have dinner with you and your parents tomorrow night.”
What did I just agree to?
Chapter Seventeen
DorisarrivedearlySaturdaymorning, and I wasted no time begging her for help. I was finally stepping into the Jacksons’ lair for dinner, and I needed backup—specifically, dessert. If Brady was willing to fight my battles, I owed it to him to do the same. My expectations for the evening were low—basement-level low—but darn it, I was going to bring my A-game. Or at least Doris’s.
She was more than happy to oblige.
“I’ve got the perfect recipe. It’ll wow them,” she promised.
I trusted her completely. She suggested a lemon raspberry coconut layered cake. It sounded like something out of a fancy Southern bridal shower—beautiful, complex, and absolutely above my skill level. But Doris was undeterred and swore she’d guide me through every step.
It took all morning, and by the time we were done, the cake perched proudly on a frosted glass stand, delicate curls ofcoconut catching the light like lace. I hoped it tasted half as good as it looked.
“It’ll tastebetter,” Doris assured me with full conviction.
I thanked her profusely.
“My pleasure. You know I’ll help anytime.”
I probably should’ve asked her for cooking lessons years ago—but there was no turning back time. I hugged her tightly and headed off to the hospital to see Aunt Lu.
On the way, Brady called.
“I’ll pick you up at six. And remember—I love you.”
“It’s the only reason I’m doing this,” I muttered, trying to slow the thrum of nerves.
“It’ll be great. My parents just need to get to know you. To know you is to love you.”
“You’re biased.”
“Guilty. See you soon.”
His confidence made it sound simple. It wasn’t. You didn’t erase forty-plus years of bitterness with one slice of cake or even a whole cake for that matter.
At the hospital, I raced up to my aunt’s room and found her sitting upright in a chair—more alert and herself than I’d seen her in days. She’d even taken a short walk earlier.
I was so ready for her to come home. I could tell she was, too.
I sat beside her and watched as she gave me a funny sort of look—equal parts suspicion, amusement, and something close to mischief.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve had some interesting phone calls this morning about you.”
