“Of course I know. Why do you think I take such long trips? My husband is an unfaithful mess. I am a good wife. I didn’t fail. I stay by his sidefor the empire we built.”
“How... what?”
She fusses with her hair and tugs on her clothes, collecting herself little by little.
“You speak of love like one man outweighs the church. Fifty-thousand people attend our services every week. Millions stream. We’re televised now. And you dare test God’s will? You dare think one nonbeliever is not more important than the many souls served by our church. How selfish.”
Her words sting. They’re meant to.
With great caution, I shift off of the other side of the bed, using the mattress as a barrier between us.
“You’re frauds,” I say, keeping my eyes on my mother. “Do you expect me to live in a fake marriage like you?”
“We taught her nothing,” Mother snaps, scolding Dad.
He waves her off, too tired or indifferent to her words to fight back.
I clutch my chest. My heart bleeds knowing my parents shamed me for loving an atheist. Meanwhile, they were living a double life. One built on sin, but rationalized by a greater good. I looked down on Jack for not believing. Like if only he would believe, he’d be good enough to live in my world. To stand by me on a stage. Instead, I hid him. I let the world believe I was still engaged to someone perceived more righteous.
Blake.
The name sends a shiver down my spine.
I glance at myfather. “Blake said he loved someone else. It wasn’t an old girlfriend in New York. Was it? It was you.”
His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t speak.
That’s when I see it. Something deeper than a man coming to terms with being exposed as a liar. It’s bigger than him giving in to desires of the flesh.
I think... heloveshim.
Maybe, that’s the real shame he projects on me.
I shake my head, absolutely disgusted.
“Wow. You would rather Blake marry your daughter than hold the hand of the person you love proudly. Blake’s your atheist — your forbidden love. This whole time, you’ve been making me feel bad for doing the thing you only wish you had the courage to.”
“There’s a cost!” he bites back.
“Yes, there is,” I agree. “But all the fame and gold in the world isn’t worth living a lie. God wouldn’t want this.” I look at Mom. “You drink yourself to death because you don’t want it, either.”
For the first time, she doesn’t defend herself.
They’re both exposed, ashamed and hurting.
“And Jack,” I whisper, and place my hands in prayer, letting the love I have for him overflow from my heart. “God made his soul for me, and mine for him.” My eyes flick to Dad. “But you broke what was mine every chance you got. I’ll spend the rest of my life putting him back together, even if he won’t marry me. Even if he doesn’t believe. Even if I lose everything to stand by him in public.”
“Sweetheart,” Dad says, his voice aching. He searches for words. He tries to step closer, but I hold up my hand.
Because while I was trying to make Jack fit this family, this church, this life, my parents were using all of it like a weapon.
No wonder Jack doubted our future. He saw it. He tried to tell me, even when he couldn't speak it, he showed it.
And I was blind.
“You saw a threat in Jack. You saw him preach back then, didn’t you? You knew he was better than you, so you built a church so big, it would outshine him.”
“He was an eighteen-year-old punk. I wasn’t threatened,” he growls, but his voice wobbles.
