You're only eight hours away

We Got Married: A Love Story We Didn't Plan, But Was Meant to Be

Sometimes, life writes a story so wild and beautiful that you couldn’t script it even if you tried. Ours began with just a few words, a long drive, and a feeling neither of us could shake.

Cory was eight hours away visiting his family and sent me a text to let me know that he had arrived safely. My response was “You are only eight hours away”. That was all it took; Cory drove all the way from Oklahoma to Clarksville with nothing more than hope and a few heartfelt words. That drive alone was one of the most romantic gestures I’ve ever experienced. He showed up at my house at 4 AM, taking a wild chance — not knowing how I’d respond, just knowing he had to try.

Our dog, Ginger, woke me up, barking and racing down the stairs. I opened the door, completely stunned to see him standing there. The first words out of his mouth? “It would be easier if we got married.” It was 4 AM, I had to work in a few hours, and the man I loved just proposed (maybe?) in the middle of the night.

I told Cory to go to bed — in the guest room — I still had to go to work after all, and he did so without hesitation. Ever the gentleman, he even woke me up a few minutes before my alarm. Although it wasn’t the most romantic wake-up call as he startled the crap out of me… where was Ginger? Well, it turned out she fell in love with Cory immediately and let him roam the house without hesitation.

After work that night, we caught up, talked, and again, Cory said, “It would be easier if we got married.”

The next day, Tuesday the 27th, I was back at work and had plans to attend my daughter’s volleyball game that evening. But while at work, I was hit with a feeling I couldn’t ignore. I can’t explain it — it was overwhelming, clear, and urgent. I just knew.

I called Cory and told him to get dressed.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we’re going to the courthouse to get married,” I said.

We got dressed, filled with excitement and nerves, and rushed to the courthouse, barely an hour before closing. We hadn’t planned a thing — no officiant, no big announcements — just a certainty that this was right and less than an hour to get it all done as the courthouse was closing.

As we were leaving the clerk’s office, unsure of what to do next, an older gentleman approached us and asked if we needed someone to officiate. We said yes, and he led us into the library next door. It was perfect. Cory and I both love bookstores and reading, so to say our vows surrounded by shelves full of stories felt entirely right. We got married right there, and it was absolutely amazing.

Later that evening, I was supposed to go to my daughter’s volleyball game. No one knew what had just happened — that one hour earlier, we got married. The conflict inside me was overwhelming. Cory encouraged me to go to the game, knowing how important my daughter is to me. But I couldn’t leave Cory home alone, not after such a monumental day.

We had just started a new chapter of our lives, and I needed to sit in that moment. I needed to honor what we had just done. So instead of going to the game, I took Cory to my favorite coffee shop in Nashville. We shared a slice of cake and talked about everything and nothing. It felt peaceful, surreal, and beautiful — just the two of us, married and quietly celebrating.

It broke my heart to miss my daughter’s game. I wanted to be there for her. But in that moment, I was being pulled in two directions — between two parts of my heart. And little did I know that internal tug-of-war was only the beginning.

In the days that followed, what began as a private and beautiful secret quickly turned complicated.

Cory and I weren’t ready to tell anyone we had gotten married. We wanted to share it thoughtfully, one person at a time, especially with our kids. But that choice was taken from us. The news was shared publicly before we had the chance to speak to the people who mattered most. All three of our children found out in a way that was never part of our plan. And that hurt — deeply.

We wanted to honor each of you with our truth, shared from our hearts. Instead, that moment was stolen, and in its place came confusion, hurt, and tension. It wasn’t fair, and we know that. We wish more than anything that you had heard it from us first.

So, caught between joy and heartache, Cory and I left for our impromptu honeymoon — carrying both the weight of the world and the hope of a brand-new life.

filling out the paperwork at the court house