“Anyway,” Lyle reins the conversation back in. “My point being, there were some great things about growing up religious. I loved the sense of community, the feeling of belonging to something important. But I hated the judgment, the double standards, the hypocrisy.”
I nod in understanding.
“So what do you do with those conflicting feelings?” Lyle continues. “Do you just throw out all the good stuff about your faith, just because it wasn’t perfect? But then, how can you go back to it when parts of it were truly harmful?”
I don’t know the answer. It’s something I’ve struggled with, too, ever since I left the convent. Living under Uncle Aaron’s roof, I had no choice but to go back to a life that revolved around church—hischurch, to be more specific. Thereare parts of it that resonate with me, and parts that have sometimes made me feel uncomfortable. There were also aspects to being a postulant that I enjoyed, times that I felt genuinely moved by the spirit, and others where I felt shamed or disconnected. “What didyoudo?” I ask, curious to see if Lyle has some answers.
“Construction, destruction, and reconstruction,” he tells me, as if this is something I should already know.
I furrow my brow at him in confusion. “What?”
“Construction, destruction, and reconstruction,” he repeats, then rolls his eyes self-effacingly. “My hairstylist told me about this guy on TikTok, who I guess heard about it on some podcast, so take what I’m saying with a grain of salt, but the idea is basically this: When you’re a kid, your beliefs are influenced by your family, your teachers, your religious leaders. That’s the construction phase of your faith. The structure is probably pretty simple, but it’s steady enough to see you through for a while.
“At some point in your life, though, you start to notice some problems. Leaks in the roof or cracks in the foundation. Things that make you question that original construction and its ability to weather the storms in life. That’s the destruction phase of your faith.
“After that, some people just abandon the building, and that’s fine. Some people’s buildings have more problems than others. But if you see potential in the building, you might want to go back and fix some of the problems. Get rid of what wasn’t working, but keep what’s good and sustainable. Rebuild as needed. That’s the reconstruction phase.”
I take a minute, absorbing the ideas. “So you’re saying ... I don’t have to keep the leaky roof, just because that’s what was built for me?”
Lyle grins. “Nope. You can build your own roof, out of whatever material you want to use.”
“I can build my own roof,” I echo quietly, letting that seed take root. What would that even look like, I wonder? What roof would I choose for myself, if I could choose anything? What beliefs would I hold closest to my heart? Smiling at Lyle, I shake my head. “Wow, your hairstylist’s TikTok guy’s podcaster was really onto something.”
He nods sagely. “It’s all about finding the right algorithm,” he agrees, winking at me as we pull upto the Lodge.
As he turns his gaze forward again, something catches his eye. “Oh. My. God,” he says, but before I can see what he’s looking at, the car’s front wheel hits the curb, and we go jolting forward.
Lyle quickly steers the car back down onto the street. “Are you okay?” he asks me sheepishly.
“I’m fine.” I’m more frazzled than beaten up, although we did hit the curb pretty hard. I wonder what distracted Lyle so much ... ? After following his gaze to the front of the hotel, I’m too excited to worry about a minor case of whiplash.
Before I’m even fully unbuckled, I’m already opening the car door and climbing out. “Grady!” I call, rushing forward and launching myself into his arms.
Chapter 21
Nina
In all the hubbub of everything that’s been going on—what with being reunited with my long-lost love and getting a job on a reality TV show and all—I’d totally forgotten that Grady had promised he’d come down to visit me. When I pull back, Grady is grinning, looking just as happy to see me as I am to see him.
He takes me by the shoulders and gives me an appraising once-over. “You doin’ all right?” he asks.
I nod enthusiastically. “I’m so glad to see you! You have no idea.” And I mean it. I’ve been so lucky to have met incredible people here—Lyle and Deja and Sienna and Rae—but there’s nothing quite like having a good, close friend by your side. Someone you don’t have to explain yourself to or put on any front to impress. Someone who gets you and loves you, warts and all. Especially with how frazzled I’ve been with Wes coming back into my life, having Grady’s calm, anchoring presence feels like a balm to my soul.
Behind me, someone clears his throat theatrically. “Eh-hem.”
I look back to see Lyle standing just behind me. He’s left the car parked at the curb, and if I’m not mistaken, it looks like he’s also brushed his hair. And is that a mint I smell on his breath?
He smiles, blushing, at Grady, extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Lyle. And you must be ... ?” He looks expectantly at Grady, waiting for him to answer. “Nina’s boyfriend?”
Grady laughs and shakes his head. “Nah. More like an unofficial older brother.”
The excitement on Lyle’s face at this news is far too easy to read. I laugh to myself. Gradyisa very good-looking man, but unfortunately I think Lyle is barking up the wrong tree.
Lyle turns his gaze back to me and raises his eyebrows a bit. “Where have you been hiding him, hmm, Wild Card?”
“Grady’s my friend from back in Chicago.” I look back at Grady and give his arm a squeeze. “And I’m so, so, so, so happy that you’re here. Why didn’t you text me?”
“I’vebeentexting you,” Grady says, “and I didn’t get any response, which made me wonder if ...” He glances over at Lyle, and I realize that he doesn’t want to say anything about my family situation in front of him.
