Chapter 2: Maple Heights’ Golden Couple

The year after I turned twenty-one, I married Nathaniel Pierce, heir to the Pierce family legacy.

That spring, the whole town bloomed with dogwoods and gossip. I remember pausing, just breathing it in—my birthday came and went in a blur of parties and phone calls, and before I knew it, I was walking down the aisle, heart pounding, into a new life.

The Pierce family had been around forever—a Maple Heights institution. Nathaniel was old money, a golden boy, a rising star at the governor's office, and the mayor's confidant.

Everyone in town knew the Pierces—their stately home, their Fourth of July barbecues. Their quiet influence at every city council meeting. Nathaniel's name carried weight, and his smile made people believe in the best of things. He was the kind of man who made you want to stand a little taller just to be near him.

My family, the Carters, was famous for our parties and for a long line of poets and local leaders. When two such families came together, everyone in town praised the match.

My folks were proud—my dad recited a poem at the rehearsal dinner. My mom made sure every detail was perfect, from the flowers to the silverware. The whole affair felt like a page out of Southern Living, the kind of story people would tell for years.

On my wedding day, my wedding gifts and trousseau filled a parade of pickup trucks winding through half of Maple Heights. Music blared and folks cheered all the way. From my parents' stately home to the Pierce estate, it felt like a celebration for the whole town.

Neighbors lined the streets, tossing confetti and waving as the convoy passed. The air smelled like barbecue and fresh-cut grass. Old Mr. Jenkins played his harmonica on the porch, and kids chased after the last truck, hoping to snag a ribbon or two. It felt like the whole town was celebrating with us.

As I stepped down from the classic car, amid music and confetti, a pair of strong, elegant hands reached out to me—broad and graceful, striking against the white of my dress.

Nathaniel's hands were warm and steady. The kind you could trust to catch you if you stumbled. I took a shaky breath, heart fluttering, and let him lead me forward, the world spinning around us in a haze of laughter and light.

I slipped my hand into his, and Nathaniel led me into our new home.

There was a hush as we crossed the threshold, the kind of silence that feels sacred. I caught my breath, the air tinged with honeysuckle and fresh paint. I felt the weight of tradition, of all the brides who had come before me, and wondered what kind of wife I would be.

During the reception, his warm hands kept finding mine, guiding me through crowded halls and laughter, into our bedroom amid cheers and playful teasing.

Our friends tossed flower petals and shouted good wishes, their voices echoing through the old house. Nathaniel squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos. For a second, I let myself believe everything would be perfect.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roses and vanilla candles. I wore my veil the whole time—the only thing I could hear was my heart pounding.

The room was soft with candlelight, shadows flickering across the walls. My dress rustled as I moved, the veil blurring everything but Nathaniel's quiet laughter and the distant music drifting up from downstairs.

After the toasts and songs, I blinked, and suddenly I was staring into a pair of deep, stormy eyes.

Nathaniel's gaze was intense, searching. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The party faded away to a distant memory. I wondered if he felt it too.

Nathaniel looked like he belonged in a Gatsby novel—crisp tuxedo, every bit the golden boy.

He looked every bit the golden boy—handsome, confident, a little mysterious. I wondered what secrets he might be hiding behind that easy smile.

I shyly lowered my eyes. The hall glowed with candlelight. Women in fancy dresses laughed together.

The laughter was bright and musical, filling the air with warmth. Someone nudged me, and I caught snippets of conversation—compliments about my dress, jokes about Nathaniel's nerves, stories from childhood summers spent at the lake.

"The bride's so shy! Nate, you are one lucky guy!"

Someone whistled, and the whole room broke into applause. I felt my cheeks burn. For a second, I wanted to hide, but I couldn't help smiling.

Nathaniel set the cake knife down, grinning. "Ladies, don't tease!"

His voice was playful, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes. He looked at me like I was the only person who mattered.

"Look at you, worried about her before you even have your first dance!"

A cousin nudged him, and the women giggled, their champagne glasses catching the light. The air was thick with joy and mischief, a buzz of energy that made me giddy.

The wedding planner stepped forward and handed us the champagne flutes, then snipped a lock of hair from each of us, sealing them in a velvet pouch—an old family tradition, a symbol of forever.

I felt a twinge of nerves as the scissors snipped. Nathaniel squeezed my hand, reassuring. The velvet pouch was tucked away in a little box, a promise of something lasting.

After the ceremony, Nathaniel squeezed my hand. "I'll go toast the guests. You freshen up first, don't be nervous."

His voice was low and deep. I looked up at him, blushing again at the smile in his eyes. I nodded, just a little.

My heart fluttered in my chest. I watched him walk away, tall and sure. For a second, I wondered if he felt the same wild hope that I did.

I thought, this is the man who'll be with me for life.

I repeated the words to myself, like a prayer. Willing them to be true. I let myself believe, just for a moment, that everything would be all right.

The Pierce estate has three wings, each with its own family branch. Nathaniel was the third son, but the only legitimate heir, so my sisters-in-law treated me with great respect, always asking after my well-being.

The house was sprawling and full of history—old portraits on the walls, creaky staircases, secret corners. My sisters-in-law, Caroline and Ruth, welcomed me with open arms, fussing over my hair and asking about my favorite foods. For a while, it almost felt like having sisters of my own.

Nathaniel's chief housekeeper, Martha, greeted me with a brisk smile and a quick nod.

Martha was a force of nature—efficient, kind, and a little intimidating. She wore her hair in a tight bun. She ran the house like a well-oiled machine.

"Mr. Nathaniel says whatever you need, just ask, Mrs. Pierce. Your girls are waiting outside."

Her words made me feel grown-up, important. I tried to stand a little taller. Smoothing my dress as my friends and cousins waited to help me settle in.

I smiled and had Mariah hand out little gift cards before letting my friends and family in to help.

Mariah, my best friend since childhood, grinned as she handed out the envelopes. The girls giggled, grateful for the gesture. They bustled around, fluffing pillows and unpacking boxes.

After a few rounds of wine, the candles flickered low. Only then did Nathaniel return to Willow Court.

The house was quiet. The laughter faded to a gentle hum. I waited, nerves dancing in my stomach, as Nathaniel finally slipped in, his hair mussed from the evening air.

Mariah leaned in and whispered, "He went to the guest bath as soon as he got back, so you wouldn't smell the wine on him. He really cares about you."

Her words made me blush, and I tried to hide my smile. Mariah always had a way of making things sound more romantic than they were. But tonight I wanted to believe her.

I blushed and tapped her arm. "You little troublemaker."

She winked at me, and I rolled my eyes, feeling lighter than I had all day. For a moment, the world felt bright again.

Nathaniel changed into a soft red undershirt. He was very tall, with the build of someone who played varsity football—broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong chest and abs. Except for my dad and brothers, I'd never been so close to a grown man, and for a moment, I felt a flutter of nerves and excitement I couldn't quite name.

He looked like he belonged on a college football poster, all confidence and quiet strength. My face grew hot, and I turned away, pretending to fuss with my hair.

He must've noticed my nerves, because he walked over to the table and poured me a cup of tea.

His voice was calm, soothing. The way my dad used to sound when he tucked me in at night. The tea steamed in his hands, filling the room with the scent of chamomile.

"My middle name is Everett. You’re my person now. Just call me Everett."

There was a vulnerability in his eyes, as if he was offering me a secret. I hesitated. The weight of his trust settled over me.

Then Nathaniel handed me the cup of tea.

The cup was warm, the porcelain delicate. I wrapped my fingers around it. Grateful for the small comfort.

He watched me, waiting for me to say his name.

The silence stretched between us, full of possibility. I took a breath, gathering my courage. My heart beat like a drum.

We looked at each other, my lashes trembling. "Everett."

The name felt strange on my tongue, but right. Nathaniel's eyes softened. He smiled—a real, unguarded smile.

Nathaniel squeezed my hand. "Did you have a childhood nickname?"

His thumb traced gentle circles on my palm, grounding me. I thought back to summers in the backyard, to the sound of my mom calling me in for supper.

I shook my head. "My family always called me Lila." I wondered, for a second, how it would sound in his mouth.

The name sounded simple. But it held all the warmth of home.

"Lila Carter, what a lovely name."

He said it like a promise, like he was tucking it away to keep safe. I felt a flutter in my chest.

Nathaniel looked a little cold—sharp jaw, thin lips—but he was gentle with me. "May I call you Lila-belle?"

The nickname was old-fashioned, sweet. I nodded, a little shy. Nathaniel's eyes crinkled at the corners.

The candle crackled, and Nathaniel tucked my hair behind my ear.

His fingers were gentle. Lingering for just a moment. The room felt smaller, cozier, as if we were the only two people in the world.

I shivered all over, but he just chuckled softly. The next moment, I squealed as Nathaniel swept me onto his lap.

His laughter was low, rich. I couldn't help but giggle, the tension breaking like a wave. I felt weightless, giddy—like a teenager with her first crush.

My heart pounded. My hands went to his chest, and the scent of his cologne, mixed with something sweet, enveloped me.

His cologne was subtle, with hints of cedar and vanilla. I breathed it in, memorizing the moment. Letting myself relax into his embrace.

For a heartbeat, I froze. Then Nathaniel kissed my lips.

His kiss was gentle at first. Testing, then deeper. I felt the world tilt, the ground slipping away beneath me.

I opened my eyes, tasting bourbon on his breath.

His lips were warm, insistent. I tasted the faintest trace of bourbon. My hands tightened on his shirt, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

Nathaniel's hand found my waist. I was completely surrounded by his presence, frozen in his arms.

He pressed me closer. His touch was both protective and possessive. For a moment, I let myself believe in the fairytale.

He laughed softly, nipped my lips, and when I gasped, he deepened the kiss.

I gasped, surprised by the sudden intensity, but I didn't pull away. His laughter rumbled against my chest. I felt a strange thrill—equal parts fear and excitement.

My breath came hot and fast. My whole body went limp, the world spinning, and he pressed me down onto the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin. I clung to him, unsure and hopeful. The world outside faded to nothing.

Nathaniel's dark hair fell forward, his undershirt open at the collar, chest heaving. He lowered his head and kissed my nose. "Don't be scared, I'll be gentle."

His words were soft, a promise. I nodded, trusting him, even as my heart hammered in my chest.

Under the warm candlelight and white curtains, tossed among waves of linen, Nathaniel was indeed as gentle as he promised. He even got up to bring me water that night. My mind was hazy as I fell asleep in his arms.

The night blurred into something tender and new. I drifted in and out of sleep, comforted by the sound of his breathing. The steady beat of his heart was my anchor.

As I drifted into sleep, my only thought was that this was not at all like the storybooks.

It was messier, sweeter, more real than anything I'd ever read. I felt changed—as if I'd stepped through a door and couldn't go back.

There was a big maple grove in front of Willow Court. The next morning, I woke to the sound of leaves rustling. I was alone in bed. Hearing movement, Mariah drew the curtain.

The sunlight spilled across the sheets, warm and golden. I stretched, sore and content. Mariah bustled in, humming a tune from the radio.

"Mr. Nathaniel's been at the gym for over half an hour already." Mariah helped me up. "He specifically said not to wake you. Today you have to host brunch, I'm nervous for you."

Her words made me laugh. I reached for my robe, nerves fluttering in my stomach. The thought of brunch with the whole family felt daunting, but I reminded myself I wasn't alone.

My waist and legs were sore. For some reason, hearing Mariah mention Nathaniel made me blush again. Mariah, seeing this, whispered in my ear, "He's so considerate."

She waggled her eyebrows, and I swatted at her, giggling. She always knew how to tease me out of a bad mood.

After washing up, I sat at the vanity. Nathaniel came in, dressed and groomed, looking sharp and full of energy.

He looked fresh, his hair still damp from the shower. He caught my eye in the mirror and smiled—the kind of smile that made my knees weak.

Everyone hurried to greet him. Nathaniel walked over, picked up a gold-and-pearl hairpin, and pinned it into my hair.

His hands were steady. He brushed my hair back with a tenderness that made my heart ache. The hairpin sparkled in the morning light.

"You look as sweet as maple syrup, just as beautiful as ever." Nathaniel admired it for a moment, then kissed my blushing cheek. "You're beautiful."

His lips were soft against my skin. I felt a rush of happiness. The girls in the room all lowered their heads, hiding their smiles.

That day, the breeze was gentle and the sky was clear. I felt like anything was possible.

It felt like the world was blessing us—the trees swaying in the sunlight, birds singing in the distance. I took a deep breath, savoring the moment.

Nathaniel reached out his hand to me, and together we went to host brunch.

We walked down the hallway, arm in arm. Ready to face whatever the day might bring. The scent of coffee and cinnamon rolls drifted from the kitchen, and I felt a surge of gratitude for this new life.

Beneath the swaying maples, I held my new husband's arm and walked down the steps into the Pierce estate—the place we'd call home.

The leaves whispered overhead. I squeezed Nathaniel's hand, hoping that this happiness would last forever.

At that moment, I naively hoped that from now on, we'd love each other and grow old together.

I let myself dream, just for a little while. Of a future filled with laughter, children, and quiet evenings on the porch.