Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Be careful,” he says.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. As soon as I’m in the attic, he steps onto the ladder and climbs through the opening to join me.
“Wow, this is very organized,” he says.
“Yeah, my mom was like that. There are totes for each of us girls, and totes from when she and Dad were dating and all through their marriage.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that our house needs to have an attic or storage space for a tote for each of our kids, and for us.” He winks.
“Probably.” I chuckle, moving further into the attic. “This one is mine,” I say, pointing at the tote that has my name written on it in black marker. Sadness washes over me. I have not been up here since before my parents died. There are so many family memories stored up here. One day, my sisters and I need to go through it all. I’m sure it will be an emotional event, but one that I think could be healing for all four of us.
“Looks like you got two. Maybe because you were the oldest?” Copeland says, pointing to the smaller, shoebox-sized tote with my name on it, as well.
“I don’t know. Let’s open it and find out.” Reaching for the small plastic tote, I pull off the lid and stare into the box. I’m confused at first. It looks like mail, but when I lift one of the envelopes to see what it is, my heart stops.
No.
This can’t be what I think it is. Right?
I stare down at the envelope in my hands as it trembles. “Cope.” My voice cracks. I lift my head, peering at him through wet eyes.
“What is it? Are you okay?” He’s at my side immediately, wrapping his arms around me. “Oh, shit,” he mutters when he sees what I’m holding. “My letters.”
“My letters,” I correct him. “I don’t understand, Copeland. Why are these here?”
“I don’t know, baby,” he says softly.
Dipping my hand into the tote, I bring out more letters. All addressed to me, from Copeland. Every single one of them sealed. “I don’t understand,” I say, reaching in and pulling out envelope after envelope. Finally, at the bottom of the tote, there’s one that looks different. It has my name on it, but it’s never been mailed, and it’s my mother’s handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.
“My mom,” I rasp. My throat feels like I’ve been eating gravel. “It’s her handwriting,” I add.
“Do you want to read it?” Copeland asks. His tone is gentle, and his arms are still wrapped tightly around my waist. Dropping the letters back into the tote, I turn in his arms, and my hands move to his cheeks as I stare into his dark brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ells.”
“They’re here. The letters I accused you of never writing, they’re here. In my house, but I swear to you, I didn’t know, Copeland. I didn’t know,” I say, dropping my hands from his face, and a sob fractures the air as I rest my forehead against his chest and cry.
“Shhh, baby, don’t cry. Come on, Ells, you’re breaking my heart.” He gently strokes his hand up and down my back to soothe me, but it’s not working.
I went years thinking that this incredible man didn’t want me. That I wasn’t enough. That the dreams we had, the plans we made for our future, were all just a game to him. I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, missing him while trying not to love him. I compared every man I met to him, and no one could ever measure up.
Not to Copeland.
“Ellison?” he says, his tone gentle.
I lift my head and wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears keep falling. “I didn’t know,” I say again. “So much time we’ve lost that we can’t get back. I don’t understand, Cope.”
“That’s all behind us, remember? We’re getting married. We’re starting a family. That’s what matters.”
“How are you not raging mad right now? Why are you not cussing and yelling and seething with anger? It’s not fair,” I say, slapping my hand against his chest. “We lost so much.”
“If I weren’t holding you, I might do those things. My heart hurts for the time we lost, but it’s also really fucking happy, Ells. It’s not often life gives you a second chance. We got ours, and baby, I’m holding on to that chance with everything I’ve got. Those years, we’ll never get back, but the ones that are ahead of us are going to be ours. We’re still getting the life we planned, just a little later. I’m going to give you my last name, and I get to watch a piece of me grow inside of you.” He smiles softly. “Whatever reason those letters are here and never made it to you, can’t take that away from me. I won’t let it.” He tightens his hold on me. “You live inside my chest. You’re the reason my heart beats, you and our baby, and our future babies.” He winks, and I smile through my tears.