Shep looked at his parents. Some silent communication passed between them, and his mother nodded. "Why don't you boys take Dash to get cookies? We'll meet you there."
One of his brothers—Shane or Dusty—scooped Dash up. "Come on, little man. Let's raid the dessert table."
"But—"
"You can talk to Miss Flannery more in a minute," Shep said firmly. "Go with Uncle Shane now."
Dash went reluctantly, waving over his uncle's shoulder. The Starrs headed toward the fellowship hall, leaving us alone in the emptying sanctuary.
"Hey," Shep said.
"Hi."
We stood there, neither moving. Candles being extinguished one by one. Christmas tree lights twinkling.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly. "That dress—"
"Thanks." I smoothed my hands over the velvet. "I almost didn't wear it."
"I'm glad you did."
Silence stretched between us. Someone laughed in the hallway. Footsteps echoed.
"Can we talk?" Shep asked. "Somewhere private?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He gestured toward the hallway leading to Sunday school classrooms. We walked in silence, his hand hovering near my lower back but not touching. He opened a door to an empty classroom—construction paper Christmas trees on the walls, tiny chairs in a circle, the lingering scent of crayons.
The door clicked shut.
"I've been thinking about what you said this morning," Shep started.
My hands went cold. Here it came. The gentle letdown.
"I know," I said quickly. "And you're right. We don't have to make it complicated. Last night was—" I searched for words that wouldn't break me. "It was special. For me. But I understand if—"
"Flannery." He stepped closer. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop deciding what I'm going to say." His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing my cheekbone the same way it had this morning, last night, in all those moments between. "You've been doing that. Putting words in my mouth."
"I'm trying to make it easier," I whispered. "For both of us."
"Easier how?"
"By not making you say that last night was one night. That you're a single dad with responsibilities and I'm the librarian who works at the sex shop and we got caught up in the moment but it doesn't mean anything."
His expression shifted—surprise, then frustration. "Is that what you think?"
"I don't know what to think." The words tumbled out. "You haven't texted. And I keep replaying this morning, how I cut you off before you could—" The words came out raw, honest in a way that scared me. "Before you could let me down easy."
"Let you down?" He went still. "Flannery, I was trying to tell you that last night changed things for me, sweetheart."
My knees went weak.
"What?"
