Chapter 6 - A Real HomeOne year later, the historic courtyard behind our newly purchased, modest historic home in downtown Charleston was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the sizzle of burgers on a backyard grill.
It wasn't a grand ballroom with crystal chandeliers and a three-hundred-person guest list. The tables were made of reclaimed wood, draped in simple blue cotton tablecloths, and lit by strings of warm Edison bulbs dangling from the branches of a massive live oak tree draped in Spanish moss.
At the center of it all was a long buffet table overflowing with southern comfort food, homemade potato salad, and a three-tier wedding cake that looked delightfully lopsided—baked lovingly by Sarah, whose son was now attending college on a full academic scholarship.
Caleb, now a sophomore at the College of Charleston and thriving in their pre-law program, was manning the grill, expertly flipping burgers while arguing passionately with Marcus Bell about constitutional law.
I stood on the wide wooden porch of our house, wearing a simple sundress, holding a glass of iced tea, and watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the Charleston sky in bruised shades of peach and violet.
Footsteps sounded behind me, followed by the familiar warmth of Ethan’s arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting comfortably on my shoulder.
“You’ve been standing out here staring at the yard for twenty minutes,” Ethan murmured, kissing the side of my neck. “Everything okay?”
“More than okay,” I sighed happily, leaning back against him. “I was just thinking about last year. About how terrified I was standing outside those chapel doors, thinking my life was over because my father abandoned me.”
Ethan turned me around so I could look into his eyes. His gaze was as steady and loving as it had been the day we stood at the altar.
“Your father didn't abandon you, Maya,” Ethan said softly. “He just cleared the path so you could finally find where you belonged.”
I smiled, sliding my arms around his neck and playing with the collar of his shirt. “And where is that?”
“Right here,” Ethan whispered, pressing his lips gently to mine. “With people who love you for who you are, not what’s in your bank account.”
From down in the courtyard, Marcus raised a glass of punch toward the porch, shouting, “Hey, counsel! Stop making out with your wife and come carve the brisket before David eats it all!”
May you like
Laughter erupted around the yard. Ethan chuckled against my lips, pulling me close for one more deep, grounding kiss before taking my hand.
“Duty calls,” he grinned, leading me down the steps into the warmth, the laughter, and the bright, beautiful light of the life we had built together—a home that no court, no fortune, and no amount of pride could ever take away.
