Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Claire barely stirred when the first rays of morning light filtered through the window. Her head throbbed faintly, but she didn’t have the strength to move. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the creak of the front door and Tony’s footsteps leaving for church. She let herself drift back to sleep, guilt and gratitude tangled somewhere in her dreams.
Claire rolled over in bed and stretched lazily. The dull ache behind her eyes had lifted. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again—only different. Lighter. A little more settled.
She smiled, knowing exactly what had shifted.
Tony.
Her fingers drifted to her lips. His kiss still lingered—warm, steady, completely disarming. She’d kissed more men than she cared to admit, but none had ever made her feel the way he did. There was something about Tony Karelli that stripped away the performance, left her unguarded.
Which was dangerous. Especially since he wore a clerical collar and she’d never pictured herself living in a place where tractors outnumbered taxis.
It was too bad, really. If he’d been a financial planner in Chicago or a media exec in L.A., he’d be perfect—handsome, grounded, thoughtful. And those dimples? Lethal.
But a minister?
She exhaled softly and stared at the ceiling. Even God might have trouble turning her into a pastor’s wife. Still, she had to admit—she liked this feeling. The quiet contentment of waking up with no one judging her. The soft echo of Tony’s voice still in her head. The memory of how he hadn’t pulled away until he absolutely had to.
She could pretend a little longer. Stay long enough to prove to her father that she could commit to something—or someone—for more than three weeks. Maybe even stay long enough to see where this unexpected path might lead.
The only real obstacle was Mrs. Sandy. If she’d just ease up on the expectations, everything else would fall into place.
Claire glanced at the clock and blinked. She’d already slept through breakfast—and by the looks of it, the first half of lunch, too.
She sat up, then paused. If Mrs. Sandy had needed her, surely she would have knocked. That woman never hesitated to rouse the household when she needed something. Maybe she’d gotten the hint. Or maybe she’d caught wind of Claire’s mood yesterday and decided not to push her luck.
Claire snuggled deeper into the covers, a slow smile curling at the corners of her lips.
No news is good news, right?
She turned her face toward the window, sunlight warming her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, just loud enough for the morning light to hear. “For keeping Mrs. Sandy away.”
The words hung in the air like a prayer. Which, technically, they were.
Tony was definitely rubbing off on her.
Twice in two days. That had to be some kind of record.
God, she thought with a small smile, really did work in mysterious ways.
* * *
Claire glanced at her reddened hands and grimaced. Three weeks of cleaning had clearly taken their toll. Her perfect nails were long gone, and her once-pristine cuticles were now frayed and uneven. At this rate, she’d have to slather on the expensive lotion Tony had brought her from Des Moines or start calling them claws.
It was such a small gift—scented hand cream that couldn’t have cost more than ten bucks—but the thought behind it had nearly brought a lump to her throat.
Tony treated her like she was someone worth caring about. Worth noticing. She was starting to like the way that felt… more than she wanted to admit.
Claire sighed and laid down the toothbrush she was using to scrub the grout. Yes, she was going to miss him.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
His arm slid around her waist. Claire smiled as she leaned back into the familiar warmth of his chest, breathing in the clean, crisp scent of his cologne.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Thinking about you,” she murmured.
He turned her in his arms until they were face to face. That same lazy heat smoldered in his eyes, the kind that always made her limbs feel a little like melted wax.
“I missed seeing you last night.”
“Did you?” she teased, though her voice softened.
“You bet. I wish you’d give it a try.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant—his Wednesday night Bible study. He’d invited her more than once, but she’d always declined. The idea of forming more connections here made her uneasy. Especially when she knew it was all temporary.
“Dottie asked us over for dinner Saturday night.”
Even as she said it, the words felt strange on her tongue. Since arriving in Millville, she and Tony had been treated like a couple. Naturally. Their supposed wedding was only weeks away.
Of course, what was actually fast approaching was their break-up. A staged blow-up, a dramatic ring toss—end scene. They’d even agreed it would be better that way. Better for the congregation to think love had fizzled than to know the whole thing had been a lie.
“I’m afraid Saturday won’t work,” Tony said, regret in his voice. “The youth group has a lock-in. And…it’s a tradition for the minister—and his fiancée—to chaperone.”
Her brows lifted. “You didn’t.”
He had the nerve to grin. “I did.”
“A lock-in?” she repeated, aghast.
“C’mon, Claire. It’ll be fun.”
She trailed her finger down his cheek, smiling when his muscles tensed under her touch. “You and me? Overnight? Maybe we’ll need our own chaperones.”
His lips brushed her palm. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I think twenty freshmen will be enough to keep us in line.”
“Ya think?” she purred, turning on the charm.
He laughed and unclipped her hair, letting the dark waves fall loose around her shoulders. “I’m just glad it’s you and me right now.”
“Me too.” Her arms slipped around his neck, and something low and electric buzzed between them.
“In fact, Miss Claire…” he said in a terrible Southern accent, “I had it in my mind to kiss you.”
“And what, pray tell, are you waiting for?”
The moment he kissed her, she melted. His arms tightened around her, and her fingers slid into his hair, anchoring herself to the only thing that felt steady.
His lips wandered to her neck, slow and tender, and her breath caught.
“And to think we weren’t going to do this anymore,” she murmured.
He froze.
Claire cursed herself. She should have kept her mouth shut. Why ruin the moment?
Tony stepped back, dragging in a breath, visibly pulling himself together.
She knew what was coming. He had his standards. Morals. Boundaries.
He’d made it clear that true intimacy belonged within marriage—and for once, she hadn’t argued. If anything, she respected him more for it.
Which only made this more difficult.
She stared at him, wondering what this really was. Why this man—who wasn’t hers and never could be—kept stirring something so unexpected inside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough. “You looked so beautiful.”
She laughed, even as something in her chest twisted. She was wearing borrowed denim shorts that didn’t quite fit, and a faded T-shirt with a butterfly stitched above her left breast. Not exactly couture.
If her father could see her now...
Claire smiled. “Try that line on someone who’ll believe it.”
“I mean it.” His gaze didn’t waver.
That’s when it hit her. He wasn’t just being sweet. He meant every word.
Her breath hitched.
No man had ever looked at her like she was enough, just as she was.
“Claire?” His voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Will you?”
Her chest tightened. “Will I what?”
“Will you be a chaperone for the lock-in?”
Oh.
Disappointment flickered, but she forced a smile. “Sure, why not? Might be fun.”
Twenty kids. One night. How hard could it be?
* * *
Claire stood at the bathroom sink, her toothbrush dangling limply from her fingers.
The mirror reflected someone she almost recognized. Her hair was pulled into a messy knot at the base of her neck, a smudge of mascara clung beneath one eye, and the oversized T-shirt she wore bore the faded logo of some long-forgotten 5K run. Not exactly cover material. And yet… there was something different about her tonight.
Her gaze traveled upward, to the faint shimmer in her eyes, the softness in her mouth. It wasn’t just the kisses, though she still felt the ghost of Tony’s mouth on hers. It was what those kisses meant. Or what they could mean—if she let them.
She didn’t want to admit how much she looked forward to seeing him, to hearing his voice, to watching the way his face lit up when he laughed. And she definitely didn’t want to admit how the thought of walking away from all this— from him —made her stomach twist in knots.
Claire reached for the small notebook she’d tossed in her bag when she left Cedar Ridge. It started as a planner but had quickly turned into a place for venting, scribbling, and occasional soul-baring.
She flipped past grocery lists and passive-aggressive notes to herself ("buy real shampoo, not hotel samples") until she found a blank page. Then, she clicked her pen and began to write.
Things I never thought I’d say:
– I kissed a minister and liked it.
– I’m spending my Saturday night at a youth lock-in.
– I’m not ready to leave Millville.
She stopped. Stared.
That last sentence wasn’t meant to be written. Not out loud. Not even here.
But there it was.
Claire capped the pen and slowly closed the notebook, her fingers lingering on the worn cover. Then she turned out the light, crawled into bed, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Tomorrow, she’d face twenty sugar-hyped teenagers and Tony’s perpetually amused smile. Tonight, she’d let herself dream about things that couldn’t possibly last.
Unless maybe—just maybe—they could.
* * *
“I said no.” Claire crossed her arms and leaned against the door.
“C’mon, Miss Waters. Me and Angie here—” the girl gestured to her friend, a petite redhead with wispy hair “—we need some fresh air.”
“No.”
“I… I get claustrophobic. I think I feel an attack coming on right now.”
Claire raised a brow. Next, Tina would be claiming it was a medical condition protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act. The girl had tried every excuse in the book tonight. But Claire, who’d been stationed at the exit and unexpectedly excelled as a gatekeeper, wasn’t buying it. Especially since she’d heard the low rumble of a motorcycle circling the church half the night.
She knew the tricks. She’d used them all herself.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She didn’t bother to revisit the policy—once you were in, you stayed in.
She gestured toward two boys on the floor hunched over a board game. “Why don’t you go over there? I’m sure they’d love to have you join.”
Tina snorted. “Get real. Nate and Kendall are the biggest geeks in school.”
Claire said nothing, just held the girl’s gaze.
“I know we’re in a church and all, but don’t go getting pious on me.” Tina tossed her honey-blonde hair. “I bet you never hung out with losers when you were our age.”
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Angie’s arm and flounced off toward the movie crowd.
“What was that all about?” Tony appeared beside her, brows raised.
Claire shrugged. “They wanted to go outside. I suggested they join Nate and Kendall instead. Apparently, that was offensive.”
Tony frowned. “Did you call them out on it?”
“I tried.” She glanced at him, then away. “But they said if I’d been their age, I wouldn’t have been caught dead with the geeks either.”
His expression sharpened. “And what did you say?”
Claire hesitated. “Nothing. What could I say? They weren’t wrong.”
“Oh, Claire.” Tony chuckled, but there was affection in his voice. “You obviously didn’t know what you were missing.”
She gave him a sideways look.
“I’m serious,” he said without a hint of shame. “I was a geek in high school.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You? Please. You were probably prom king.”
“I had glasses, braces, and a Star Wars lunchbox I carried way too long. Total geek.”
Claire blinked. “Really?”
“Yep. So aren’t you glad you met me now?”
She laughed, the sound surprising her with how real it felt. “I guess I am.”
But even as the words left her lips, an unexpected thought slid in: If she’d met him back then, would she have even noticed? Would she have looked past the awkwardness, the mismatched clothes, the dorky backpack?
Probably not.
But now?
Now, she couldn’t imagine not seeing him.
She looked at him again, and her smile softened. “You know what? It really would’ve been my loss.”
* * *
Later, while the teens crowded around a tray of microwave nachos and a third movie flickered on the big screen, Claire slipped away for a few minutes of quiet.
The hallway outside the fellowship room was dimly lit, and the church felt different in the hush of late night—less like a building and more like a space that held secrets. She walked slowly toward the sanctuary, drawn by something she couldn’t quite name.
Inside, the room was silent, still. The kind of still that made you breathe softer without meaning to.
Claire slid into a back pew and sat with her hands folded in her lap. The faint scent of wax and old hymnals filled the air.
She glanced down at her hands—hands that had cleaned grout, scrubbed floors, poured juice for sticky-fingered kids. Hands that had once only held champagne flutes and shopping bags now bore calluses. And somehow, that didn’t feel like a loss.
She thought about Tina’s words. The way they’d stung because they were true. Claire had been the kind of girl who wouldn’t have given someone like Nate or Kendall a second glance.
But here she was. Watching out for them. Protecting them, even.
Her gaze shifted to the front of the church, to the simple wooden cross bathed in moonlight from the tall windows. It didn’t feel so strange anymore, sitting in a place like this. Thinking about things she used to laugh off.
Tony’s face flashed in her mind—his smile, his steadiness, the way he’d said “That would’ve been your loss” like it wasn’t a boast, just a truth.
Maybe it was.
Maybe everything she used to value needed a second look.
Claire leaned back against the pew and let the stillness hold her for just a little longer.