Page 149 of Love Unscripted
Aaron stepped inside just after nine, and something in her chest eased at the sight of him. He had dropped Madison off at school only minutes before. There was something deeply grounding about that—about the ordinariness of it. School drop-offs. Morning visits. It stood in gentle contrast to the whirlwind they had just come out of—publicity, interviews, wedding plans that still sometimes felt too good to be real.
They had both agreed—they would get married sooner rather than later.
A summer wedding.
Of course she loved that. She thrived in warmth—in sunlight, in sea air, in places that felt alive. Wherever they went for their honeymoon would need to be somewhere like that. Barbados had quickly risen to the top of her list, a thought that made her smile even now.
The movie premiere was set for the first Friday of summer.
The wedding—four weeks later in July.
Everything was moving quickly.
Sometimes it felt too good to be true but then she was reminded of God’s good gifts to his children. This relationship with Aaron was His good gift to her. she didn’t deserve it but God in His grace had gifted it to her nonetheless and she would be eternally grateful.
Now Aaron stood in her living room. The last time he had been there…
Her chest tightened just slightly.
The memory came uninvited—his anger, the sharpness of his words, the finality in his voice when he had told her it wasover. The door closing behind him had sounded like something ending for good. As the unpleasant memories tried to return, she quickly pushed them out of her mind, silently rebuking the enemy, the hater of men’s souls, whom the Bible warns has come to steal, to kill and to destroy. She reminded herself that Christ came that we may have life, and life more abundantly.
Then his gaze moved across the room. He froze. His mouth fell open. He lifted a hand and pointed. “Hey! That’s me!”
A small, satisfied warmth bloomed in her chest.
The painting dominated the far wall—bold, striking, impossible to miss. But it wasn’t just the likeness. It was what the artist had captured beneath the surface—something steady, something strong, something quietly commanding.
Camille nodded, slipping her fingers through his.
“Alex’s painting. I purchased it months ago.”
She felt his hand in hers, solid and real, and held on just a fraction tighter than necessary.
Aaron stared at it again, amused and slightly bewildered.
“I keep it down here,” she added lightly, though her pulse picked up just a little, “because if I kept it in my bedroom I’d dream about you all night.”
He laughed, turning toward her.
“You act like that’s a bad thing.”
“It is right now.” Her eyes sparkled, but there was truth beneath the playfulness. “After we get married both you and your painting can join me in my bedroom.”
He shook his head, smiling.
“Speaking of which… we need to talk.”
Her stomach dipped.
Not dramatically. Not enough to show. But enough.
He took her hand and guided her toward the couch.
“Uh oh,” she said, only half joking.
Aaron chuckled at her expression.
“It’s nothing to worry about… I hope,” he added, pulling a face.
