24. Lucy
twenty-four
Lucy
Nate has exactly thirty seconds before I march up the stairs and drag him to the car by his ear.
He said he would be down in ten minutes, and it’s been almost twelve.
I considered driving myself to church and letting him come on his own later, but that’s a guaranteed way to start comments about having trouble in paradise already.
“Nate, come on,” I call up the stairs, “By the time we get there, class will have already started.”
His footsteps thud across the second floor, and the stairs creak as he slowly descends them while rolling up the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt. “Don’t you have any faith in your co-teacher?”
I roll my eyes. Reese and I teach the preschoolers, and she’ll do fine getting class started without me. But I feel guilty about leaving her alone, especially when it’s not even my fault. “You know I hate being late.”
He smirks as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and heads to the kitchen. “Let me grab a quick breakfast.”
I drop my shoulders and groan. “Are you serious?”
He chuckles as he ducks into the kitchen, and I hear a cabinet door squeak open and a box rustle. “I’m getting a protein bar to eat in the car. Do you want something?”
“No, thank you.”
He steps back into the foyer, and his eyes search my face as he closes the distance between us. “Did you eat breakfast?”
I huff an impatient breath and pull the door open. “Yes. I didn’t take the time to make an omelet, but I ate breakfast.”
His eyes widen as they search my face, and guilt twists my stomach for my misplaced jab.
As I march down the porch steps, his car unlocks, and I pivot toward his SUV instead of my Camry.
Nate slides into the car as I buckle my seatbelt.
When the door closes behind him, the warm, spicy scent of his cologne fills the car.
He definitely doesn’t smell like smoke anymore.
I avert my gaze, busying myself with turning my phone to silent mode as Nate starts the vehicle, opens the wrapper of his protein bar, and takes a slow, indulgent bite.
I shoot him a glare, hoping he feels the heat of it on the side of his face. “Get out.”
He turns to me with raised brows. “What? Why?”
“If you’re too focused on your protein bar to drive, then I will.”
He chuckles and shifts the car into reverse, checking the mirrors and turning to look over his shoulder as he backs into the street.
He pauses for another bite, and I roll my eyes, crossing my arms and leaning into the seat with a huff.
He chews his mouthful slowly and steers the car with one hand through the quiet neighborhood.
I clench my jaw, releasing it with a long exhale. “I’m surprised, as a first responder, that you’re okay with eating while you drive. Doesn’t that count as a distraction? I mean, you only have one hand on the wheel right now.”
He smirks and flips the blinker on with the hand that is holding his protein bar. “Luce, I drive a fire truck in Nashville for a living. I think I can safely maneuver my little SUV through our neighborhood with one hand while I finish my breakfast.”
I sigh and sink further into the seat. “Quinn will already be in class by the time we get there.”
His gaze darts to me once he completes the turn onto the main road. “Have you missed her?”
I nod. “Yeah. The house is way too quiet when the two of you aren’t there.”
He smirks as he takes the wrapper off his last bite of protein bar and holds it between his thumb and forefinger. “Does that mean you missed me, too?”
I roll my eyes and scoff. Maybe I did, but I’m not telling him that.
He chuckles, pops the chunk of protein bar into his mouth, and sets the empty wrapper in a cupholder in the center console.
We drive in silence for a while, but it doesn’t set me on edge.
The fact that I don’t feel the urge to fill the silence with Nate doesn’t make sense.
With anyone else, my family and friends included, I find something to talk about or turn on the radio.
But with Nate, I’m comfortable riding in silence, watching the beautiful landscape of Willow Bend roll past my window on the way to church.
As Nate turns the vehicle down the highway that will take us to the edge of the county where the church building is located, my arm brushes against his, and I freeze.
It’s like the moment we nearly collided on the stairs again.
This insignificant contact has butterflies swarming in my stomach like a teenager.
He flexes his hand on the armrest, and I’m distracted by the rolling veins in his muscular forearms. Mere inches separate our hands, and I have to twine my fingers in my lap to calm the impulse to reach for him.
He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. I turn to him with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
He blows out a long breath. “I’m going to have to ask your permission again.”
My frown deepens. “What do you mean?”
His hand tightens around the steering wheel. The dark metal of his wedding band contrasts strongly with his tanned skin. “Well, we’re married now, Luce.”
I run my thumb over the simple wedding band on my left hand. “I know. I was there.”
He nods. “So, we should probably show affection, like we did at my parents’ house and at the wedding.”
I blow out a long breath and nod. “Yeah, you’re right. Just assume from now on that when we’re in public, PDA is acceptable.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he nods. “Do you want to go over any green-light behaviors with me? I think I could use a warning about the red-light ones.”
I roll my eyes and clench my jaw. “I think I’ll stick to pinching you if you do something I don’t like.”
He fights a smile, but it’s winning. I frown. Has Nate always had a dimple on his right cheek? Why have I never noticed it before? I turn my gaze back to the road, feeling my face heat. Why am I noticing his dimple now?
As we cross the bridge over the river, the church bell tolls from the top of the bluff in the distance, sounding muffled in the quiet car. We’re officially late, but not as late as I thought we’d be.
I have spent the last ten minutes laughing off every “Good morning, Mrs. Walker,” and I’m ready for worship to begin, so I don’t have to speak to anyone for a while.
“Lu, Lu!”
I smile when Quinn reaches for me over Nate’s shoulder as he talks to Caleb and Aiden. Sliding my hands under her arms, I pull her over Nate’s shoulder and hug her tightly to my chest. “Hi, baby girl. I missed you. Did you have fun with Papa and Gigi?”
Nate turns to me with a raised brow. He smiles as Quinn pats my cheek with her little hand and says, “Aw, Lu.”
I chuckle and kiss her head. Nate slides his arm around my back as Caleb continues their conversation, and I freeze.
His large, warm hand settles on my hip, and I draw a slow breath.
Gently, he pulls me closer, and I fit into his side as though I belong there.
For a dangerous second, I don’t want to pull away, but my heart kicks into gear, and I have to create some space.
I clear my throat and turn to Nate, interrupting Caleb. “I’m going to go ahead and sit down.”
He flashes a brief frown as his eyes roam my face, then he nods. “The diaper bag is already on our seat.”
I nod and step out of his hold, reminding myself not to run down the center aisle of the auditorium as I make my way to our pew with Quinn jabbering in my arms. I force a smile for Kathryn and Scott on the other end of the long bench, and sit down, settling Quinn on my lap.
Quinn plays with the tails of the bows tied onto the wide straps of my dress—thank goodness, they’re sewn in place, and they won’t untie as she plays with them—and I draw a steadying breath.
I can still feel the heat from Nate’s hand on my hip, and I have to suppress a shiver. When he set his hand on my back, I didn’t panic because I was uncomfortable. I panicked because it felt nice.
As the bell tolls outside to signal the beginning of our worship hour, Nate and my dad walk down the center aisle to the small raised area at the front of the auditorium. My eyes widen, and my stomach churns as I see the announcement sheet in Nate’s hand.
Turning Quinn around in my lap, I point at Nate and whisper in her ear, “Who’s that?”
She claps and calls, “Nae-da.”
He smiles at Quinn as he stands behind the podium, and a few chuckles break out across the crowded room. He clears his throat and sets the announcement sheet in front of him. “Good morning. Before I read through our announcements, I want to take a moment and show some gratitude.”
My face is on fire as Nate’s hazel eyes scan the room, and he continues, “For those of you who haven’t heard—” He tilts his head and chuckles. “Who am I kidding? I’m sure you all know by now. Friday night, I made Lucy my wife in a beautiful little ceremony on the bluff right outside.”
A loud whisper echoes through the room, “It’s about time.”
Nate smirks and nods as quiet laughter follows. I draw a steadying breath, plastering on a smile as I resist the urge to crawl under the pew and hide from all the gazes I can feel boring into the back of my head.
Quinn jabbers, and I focus on Nate as he continues, “Thank you all so much for helping us put the wedding together. I’m truly grateful for each person who pitched in, especially for the help with the flowers and the food.
” His eyes land on me, and I freeze. “It was an evening I’ll treasure for the rest of my life. ”
My gaze drops to Quinn, and I straighten invisible wrinkles in her dress. Nate Walker is far too good at playing the role of an affectionate husband. If I didn’t know it was an act, I might have believed that our wedding meant more to him than healthcare and childcare.
As he reads through the list of announcements—upcoming events and people who are sick and in need of prayers—I keep my gaze trained on Quinn and try to ignore the feeling of being watched.
When Nate finishes, he steps aside, and my dad lays his Bible on the podium as Nate takes a seat in one of the chairs at the back of the little stage.
Dad clears his throat and smiles. “As you can imagine, our family had a very exciting weekend. The wedding was gorgeous, a feat that could only be accomplished by a church family as close-knit and generous as the people in this congregation. You all never cease to amaze me. You took on the challenge of putting a wedding together in less than two weeks and made it look easy. Joanne and I are also very grateful for your help with the wedding. We’re happy for Lucy and Nate, and very proud to have officially added such a good man to our family.
But I’m not just here to say thank you. I’ve been asked to read from Ephesians in preparation for our lesson this morning.
I’ll be reading from chapter five, beginning in verse twenty-two. ”
As my dad reads the passage and then leads the congregation in prayer, I find myself praying that I will be the kind of wife Paul describes in these verses, that I’ll respect my husband, and that we’ll build a relationship that mirrors Christ’s love for the church.
When Dad finishes, and the song leader stands and announces the first song, Nate slides into the space beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders, casually resting his hand on my upper arm. Quinn smiles and jabbers to Nate. He chuckles and tickles her chin with his free hand.
His eyes dart to me as he gently squeezes my shoulder, leans closer, and whispers in my ear, “How was my little thank-you speech? Did everything fall into green-light territory?”
I swallow roughly and nod. Unable to find words to respond or the energy to roll my eyes and act annoyed.
The uncomfortable truth is that I’m far too comfortable with Nate’s arm around me.
When we were standing with Caleb and Aiden, it felt surprisingly good to be held by him.
And now, sitting in the middle of the church with his hand on my shoulder…
It feels too real for affection that’s supposed to be fake.
This should be a good thing, right? I should be glad that being close to my husband feels comfortable and not tense or awkward.
I should be happy that his touch makes my heart flutter and my stomach fill with butterflies.
So, why does it feel like jumping into the deep end and realizing I don’t know how to stay afloat?