Okay, he has a point. That’s a good reason to be less than overjoyed this morning. I need to find my engagement ring somewhere in that room. I need to talk to Blake. Dad. Mom.
“I’m breaking the engagement,” I blurt, my tone a mix of certainty and impulsiveness.
His brow lifts. “For an atheist.”
I cross my arms and scowl. “You arenotan atheist.”
“Morgan—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” The words burst from my mouth, far more harshly than I intended. I cover my mouth and cringe. “Sorry.”
He doesn’t get mad. Instead, his eyes hold doubt, and that hurts worse. I stay on the offense.
“Just because your parents died, you lost your faith?”
Normally, Jack would probably blow up and leave, but this time, I’m the one who’s losing it. My chin trembles and tears well in my eyes. I’m angry and sad that he doesn’t believe. My hands curl into fists and my ears burn hot as I try not to cry.
“Hey, hey, Morgan. It’s okay,” he soothes. “How about we take this one day at a time?”
I sniffle back tears. “Yeah?”
He nods. “One problem at a time.”
“Yes!”
“Good.” He kisses my temple tenderly, then he grabs a bottle of sunscreen on the middle of the table. “Problem one. It’ll be sunny outside.” He dabs some on my cheeks and gently rubs it in. “There. No sunburn.”
I smile warmly and hug him, feeling better. Then, I do the same for him, slowly tracing the contours of his handsome face. I can finally touch him. Be held in his arms. Such small things that mean the world to me.
Forget the rest.
We head out and begin our day of volunteering in the coastal residential area. It’s hard work, gathering trash,flipping things over, raking and digging under the blazing sun. But I love every second because I’m with him.
Jack and I are never far from each other. We reapply each other’s sunscreen, eat lunch together, share water bottles, steal kisses, tell stories. Laugh.
By late afternoon, the entire group knows who I am, but they don’t make a big deal of it. They like to tease me, though.
One guy lobs his arm over Jack’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, I dated a Christian girl before. Hardcore, too. She was wet for Jesus.”
Jack grins at me, sly and taunting. “So is Morgan. Aren’t ya, church girl?”
“I am not!” I defend, giggling and embarrassed.
“She’s lying,” Jack says.
A couple of guys chuckle nearby. Jack points at me.
“If Jesus showed up tonight, she’d kick me out of the bedroom.”
I stamp my foot. “I would not. You guys are dumb.” I shield my face, blushing.
Jack slaps his thigh, laughing hard. “You’d say, ‘Bye Jack! Jesus is king,’ then slam the door in my face.”
I purse my lips and shake my head disapprovingly. It’s funny, but I amsonot used to this kind of talk in front of men.
I lower my voice for just him to hear.
“No, I only want to be with a guy who talks like Jesus.”
