“Morgan, I want to say sorry, too. It wasn’t my place to spill your dad’s secrets like that.”
“What? That he’s gay?”
I squint. I’m nearly certain I didn’t specify it was a guy blowing her dad.
She reads my mind.
“I walked in on him in the break room last night... with Blake.”
“Come again?”
“Yeah. It was enough to make me pass out and hit my head on the floor.”
“Oh, Morgan, baby, I’m sorry.” I grimace, feeling her pain. No daughter should find out that way. How twisted. Her dad and her ex. Damn.
“I’m glad you told me,” she murmurs. “I pray my dad lives a more authentic life. For him and my mother’s sake. It’s overdue.”
Whoa.
I’ve heard and seen everything now. Church girl wants an atheist, accepts her father’s secrets, and—
“I’m starting my own church,” she adds.
“Huh?”
She holds out her arms, wide apart. “If my father comes clean, this cathedral — our empire — won’t survive. It’ll be sold to someone who fits the mold. That’s fine, but I’d like to run a smaller one. You okay with that?”
I place my hand over my heart, touched she would be satisfied with something less than grand. It’s what my mother would do, yet it feels different. She’s sacrificing a kingdom for a barn.
I stroke my jaw, musing. “I never want to stop you from doing what you love, but I am sure if you want something this big again, you’ll find a way.”
“Honestly, I don’t know everything I want, except that I want to figure it out with you.”
“I want that, too,” I whisper.
I turn, taking in the vastness of the space around us. The giant ceiling, opulent tapestries, beautiful mosaic windows. My gaze lands on the cross. It’s three stories tall. A symbol of the ultimate sacrifice that Morgan wears so comfortably over her chest.
Since she moved into my house, I’ve been stricken with fear. She offered permanence when I only knew fragility and temporary moments of joy. I ran from it. Hell, my body rejected it before my mind. But not now.
I get lost in those brilliant hazel eyes. My body obeys me for once as I lower myself onto one knee.
My lips follow, speaking as they once did when the spirit of my convictions powered my words so effortlessly — so damn fearlessly.
“Baby, I love you.”
It’s easy to say.
“I love you in a way that terrifies me, because if I lose you, I won’t recover.” I take her hand and stroke my thumb over the empty space where a ring should sit. “I don’t have anythingto give you except myself. I’ll buy you a ring, but it won’t be big enough, and somehow, I know you’ll cherish it.”
She covers her mouth and tears well in her pretty eyes.
“But I’ll give you something now that you’ll treasure more.” I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, coaching myself,hopingI’m not struck by lightning after I say the words. When my eyes reopen, I look into hers and finish.
“If a woman as incredible as you can love a nonbeliever like me, there must be a God. Or at least, something bigger than me.”
“What?” Her voice cracks.
I look at the ceiling, but it doesn’t crash down. I expected it to. I’ve been an atheist for some time, and it brings me peace as much as when I was a believer. There is something calming about knowing my time has a beginning and an end.
