Another breath of relief left my lips. I wanted Wes close.
“When you are done, I will bring you back with a squeeze of your hand.” He was tense as he studied me, gaze slipping down to my body so close to his. “You’re per—you’re going to be perfect.” He released my face from his gentle hold.
We began walking toward the nave, but it felt like I was floating. We weren’t alone in the hall. Men and women seemed captivated by us, which made sense, given Wes’s aforementioned breathtaking beauty.
In the nave, there were far more people than I’d ever seen in our previous visits. At least one hundred, as I feared. It could’ve been more—numbers weren’t my forte.
I barely registered we’d sat down in the front pew, Wes on one side and Archer on the other. Archer shifted closer to me, and Wes’s hand tensed where it rested on mine in the space between us. It wasn’t a squeeze, so I stayed blissfully floating.
“You look incredible,” Archer whispered to me.
Wes’s shoulder brushed mine.
I glanced at Archer, and he smiled before I even spoke. “Thank you.”
The words seemed to delight him. He studied me in awe before glancing over at Wes with a smirk. His wife was speaking at the pulpit, but I wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. I probably should, though, as I needed to hear when she called me up.
Candles were lit on the altar and on windowsills below stained-glass panels. The smell of smoke and wax soothed me, reminding me of a time from before—a time I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Everyone who has found community in The Circle notices the change in both their waking and dream lives. The deeper onegoes, the more profound the shift. The Universe’s algorithm is far more powerful than the algorithms created by man,” Jayne said.
Jayne’s words washed over me like a gentle ocean wave. Her light brown skin was illuminated by the light of her smile, and her amber, nearly golden eyes radiated serenity that matched my own. Her perfect black ringlets were shiny, and her deep blue gown accentuated her every curve.
“Notice the synchronicities, the repetitive lessons, the precognitive dreams, the revelations gained through pleasure,” she continued. “And for those of us who have already conquered our essential fears, I urge you to never forget they can always return if we’re not careful. We must stay connected, always growing and healing together. Alienation is killing this world we love, but closeness will heal all.”
I lifted my hands to clap with everyone.
“To remind us of what it means to step out of fear and into authenticity for the first time, I’ve invited the lovely Nova to share a few words about her journey.”
Wes slowly slid his hand away from mine. “Easy,” he whispered.
I nodded.Easy.
The sound of my chunky heels against the floor was covered up by the echo of clapping hands. When I reached Jayne, she did that thing wealthy Manhattanites did—pretended she was French and greeted me with la bise.
On the second kiss, she paused with her cheek against mine. “Speak from the heart. We’ll celebrate when you’re done. Tonight is all aboutyou.” She pulled back with a wink.
My usual skepticism was overridden. Her enthusiasm and undivided attention fueled my confidence.
I took the pulpit. The crowd was silent, waiting. My mouth hovered close to the microphone. I thought of the hundreds,maybe thousands of hours of comedy I’d consumed in my lifetime—the rise and fall of a story, the tricks used to keep a crowd engaged, the bravery I thought I’d never claim for myself. The audacity to lay one’s vulnerabilities bare before a group of strangers.
Wes’s words moved through my mind like a gentle caress, like he was right beside me.Speaking to the nave will be as easy as speaking to me.
I didn’t speak to the crowd. I found his eyes, and I spoke to him. “I was raised in a staunchly conservative religious community,” I began. I couldn’t remember what the community was called or where it was, only that this piece of information was crucial to the build-up.
I saw several heads nod, maybe in encouragement. Or maybe in solidarity.
“My friend recently said it wasn’t enough to leave a toxic place, or toxic people, behind physically. You have to leave them behind mentally too. And many never do, no matter how far away they travel.”
Wes leaned forward an inch. Above the crowd, I saw figures moving on an upper level of the nave. They were cloaked in darkness, their faces obscured. I might’ve gotten distracted by this, but Wes’s gaze focused me on my task.
“I thought I’d left home behind in all ways, but I’m realizing now that was a self-righteous lie I told myself because the truth was uncomfortable. Itisuncomfortable.” I paused to take a breath. “The truth is, there are still parts of myself I hate because of them.” I shook my head. “I don’t even think hate is the right word. It’s just easier to hate than to admit something makes you afraid. Or, God forbid, ashamed.”
The crowd reacted to this line—I could see the agreement in their faces, their movements, but my eyes always returned to Wes.
“My roommates and I watched the movieBabygirltogether earlier this summer. They found it hilarious,” I said, remembering the looks on their faces watching Nicole Kidman get dominated by her much younger intern. “But I had a different reaction. I was taking that movieveryseriously.”
This drew laughter from the crowd, and it was different than Hudson and Delilah’s laughter had been that night.
