The Grieving Cowboy Hadn’t Smiled In Years, Until A Clumsy Mail Order Bride Made Him Laugh Again

Chapter 8

Elias did not sleep that night. He lay in his bed, replaying the moment on the sofa over and over again — the weight of her body, the softness of her skin, the way her lips had parted as she looked at him.

He loved her. He loved her, and the admission terrified him.

He had loved Anna with every fiber of his being. He had built a life with her, dreamed of a future with her, and when she died, a part of him had died with her. The thought of loving someone else felt like a betrayal — not just of Anna, but of the man he used to be.

But the man he used to be was gone. The man he used to be had died in the winter of 1875, and the man who had taken his place was someone who had forgotten how to feel, how to hope, how to live.

Until Lydia.

He found her in the kitchen the next morning, stirring a pot of oatmeal. She looked up when he entered, and her smile was tentative, uncertain.

“Good morning,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry.”

“Lydia, we need to talk.”

Her face fell. She set down the spoon with trembling hands. “I understand. You want me to leave.”

“No,” Elias said, crossing the kitchen in three long strides. “That’s not what I want at all.”

“What do you want?”

He took a deep breath. This was the scariest thing he had done since watching them lower Anna’s coffin into the ground.

“I’ve been dead inside for three years,” he said. “I thought that was all I deserved, all I was capable of. But then you fell off that water trough and made me laugh, and something cracked open in my chest.”

Lydia’s eyes widened, but she did not speak.

“You’re clumsy and chaotic, and you have a parrot that curses like a sailor,” Elias continued, a smile tugging at his lips despite his nerves. “You knock things over and trip on flat surfaces and burn dinner at least once a week. And somehow, despite all of that — or maybe because of it — you’ve brought joy back into my life. You’ve reminded me what it feels like to be alive.”

“Elias,” Lydia whispered, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“I know you didn’t come here to fall in love with a broken man,” Elias said. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But the truth is, Lydia, I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I already have fallen. And I’m terrified, because the last time I loved someone, I lost them. But I’m more terrified of spending the rest of my life alone when I could spend it with you.”

A tear spilled down Lydia’s cheek, but she was smiling. “You’re not broken, Elias. You’re healing. And I didn’t come here to fall in love, but I did anyway. How could I not? You’re kind and strong and so much braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Elias reached up and gently wiped away her tear with his thumb. “So, what do we do now?”

“I think you kiss me,” Lydia said with a watery laugh. “That seems like the logical next step.”

Elias cupped her face in his hands, marveling at how perfectly she fit in his palms. He lowered his mouth to hers, and the kiss was gentle at first — tentative, questioning. But then Lydia made a small sound and pressed closer, her hands fisting in his shirt, and the kiss deepened into something that made Elias’s head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Elias rested his forehead against Lydia’s and smiled.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she replied. “Even though you’re grumpy and you work too much and you haven’t smiled in years.”

“I’m smiling now,” Elias pointed out.

“Yes, you are,” Lydia said, her own smile radiant. “And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”