I probably shouldn’t have said that…
She spins one-eighty and walks off towards the back of the ballroom, and I follow her, zig-zagging through dancing couples.
“Lucy,” I call after her nervously as we walk past the table of food. She doesn’t stop but heads for the large double doors.
“Lucy! Let’s talk about this.”
She continues marching forward, but she throws up her hand, motioning me to follow. Two men on either side of the door pull itopen by the barred handles, and I follow Lucy out of the ballroom where we are immediately wrapped in a dampened silence.
The click of her heels continuing down the tiled floors echoes off the stone walls.
“Lucy, this is far enough. We shouldn’t—” She rounds the corner of the hallway. I follow but then catch her wrists as her arm naturally swings backwards from her gait. “Let’s not get too far away from watching eyes, okay? For my protection.”
“Your protection? Do you think I’m going to hurt you or something? I—”
“No, Lucy.” I drop her wrist and close my eyes for a brief second. When I open them, she’s facing me, a challenging pout on her face that I’d like the chance to kiss off. I take another breath and speak slowly. “Not protection from you. Protection from myself. You plus me plus dark rooms equals our Lord and Savior arching His brow and turning His face away from us. It’s simple math.”
I watch her face flush in the dim candle lighting of the hallway. “You’re too tempting, and I flew all this way to tell you that I’m done being afraid. I’ve strengthened my walk with Christ, and while I know there will still be plenty of moments of faltering, I’m not afraid anymore. He’s taught me that love is selfless and looks after the other person. And because I love you, Lucy May, I will put you and your health first. I will look after you and cherish you. Forever. If you’ll have me…”
In the middle of the spewed confession, my tone went from playful and mischievous to sounding like a golden retriever in need of cuddles. Lucy must pick up on it because she takes one smallhalf-step in my direction, her hand lifting from her side as if to reach out to me.
But she stops mid-movement, stares at her hand, and then falls back into place as if she never moved in the first place. After a long breath, she cuts her eyes from the floor up to me. “I get why you walked away. It took me a while to wrestle with the idea. I thought you were using God as an excuse to run from me. But after I read your story, spoke with a few trusted individuals, and reflected for myself, I realized you had never lied to me before. But Stone, I only came to that realization a couple of weeks ago. Yes, it freed me. Yes, I believe you. But now, I’ve started focusing on my own healing. There are some things I’ve come to learn about myself, and in all transparency, I don’t know if I’m ready for a stable, functioning relationship at the moment. And dang it, it hurts to say that to you because I love you, Stone. I love you so much that now I have to be the one to say ‘I need space to figure things out.’”
Her words are a thousand bees stinging my heart, and I feel the now-familiar push of tears behind my eyes. Lucy’s are already falling, trailing down her freckled cheeks, leaving a line of black streaking both sides, evidence of our twin flame bruise. Taking the two steps that were needed to close the distance between us, I enclose her in my arms, tugging her face close to my chest as she breaks herself apart in my arms.
I can’t tell you how many minutes pass by as she cries in my arms. Silent, tearful floods pour from me, streaming into her hair. She never said it was over between us, so why does it feel that way? I don’t resent her, nor am I upset at her for this extremely difficult choice she’s making (I mean, I had to make it a month ago myself).
“I want this for you, Lucy. I want your healing. However long it takes.” She tries to catch her breath through her receding sobs. After a second, she pulls away from me, but I don’t let go of her. Instead, I fix my gaze on her glistening eyes (why are eyes the prettiest when they’re tear-filled?) and say slowly and surely, “I will wait for you, Lucy. Take your time and do what you need to do.”
“But what if—”
I cup her cheeks, placing my thumb over her mouth. “No what-ifs, Lucy May. You’re it for me. If you don’t want me after you’ve taken the time you need, then so be it. But as for me, you’re the love of my life.”
She nods her head, takes a small step into me, and kisses my cheek. “If healing doesn’t bring me to you, Pebbles, then I don’t want it.”
I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “I’m ready to heal together when you are, my little lion.”
“I like deadlines, Stone. That’s something you didn’t give me when you walked out, so I’m giving a deadline so you’re not left wondering when, where, why, and how like I was. The coronation is in two weeks. I’ll be home a few days after New Year's. We will talk then about where we stand with each other and what we want. Let’s take these next couple of weeks to really pray, talk to those who love and care about us, and listen to the Lord’s guidance?”
My jaw comes unhinged at the straightforward suggestion, and suddenly I’m swimming in guilt. “Thank you for that. I’m sorry I didn’t offer the same assurity to you. In the future, I will make my intentions better known and with clearer operating boundaries, okay? Thank you for teaching me that just now.”
For the first time tonight, she genuinely smiles at me, teeth and all, and I say a prayer right then and there for the Lord to help—and selfishly, move quickly—Lucy with whatever she sees in herself that she wishes to work on.
Chapter 25
Lucy
“Don’t what-if yourself into the grave, Lucy. Stop the intrusive, spiraling thoughts as soon as you realize they’re happening.” Brandi pegs me with a stern look, repeating a phrase she’s said often in our sessions. Her face softens after seeing my expression of genuine fear over the scenarios I’ve expertly crafted inside the confines of my head. “I understand you are worried you’ll mess up again and sleep with him. I understand you’re scared that he will go cold on you and walk away one day because of your anxiety and battle with anxious attachment. But if you do sleep with him, does that mean you are condemned to hell and are no longer worthy of the love of Christ? If he does go cold and walks away, does that mean you’ll never smile again?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Mostly as a joke, but I think there’s some truth to the singular word, which is what terrifies me the most. I huff out a breath and cross my arms, leaning back on her sofa in her living room. “That’s why I don’t think I’m ready to go back to him. When the plane landed back in Mississippi two daysago, all I wanted to do was run to him and hug him and start over with him. But instead I texted him and told him I was back and I wanted to wait one more week before talking. I’m obviously not ready to see him.”
Brandi doesn’t miss a beat. “Not ready to see him or not ready to put yourself out there again because you have dug yourself a ‘what if’ grave?”
Somewhere, deep down, I know she’s right. The fear is loud, though. The ghost of the pain and heartache lingers like an unwelcome house guest. What if he— “Ah, shoot. You’re right,” I cave, catching myself hopping and skipping down another trail that leads to desolation.
“So what do you think is the next appropriate course of action for you to take?”
I think over her question, chewing on my bottom lip and fiddling with the silver ring on my thumb. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to reach out in a few days, I guess. I’m still scared, though. It’s not like I don’t want to jump into his arms, smiling as he sets me on his bike and rides me off into the winter sunset. I want that more than anyone could know. But how do I know if it’s the lust talking, the attachment issues talking, or if I’m truly meant to be with him?”
