Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Greyson
“Pais?” I nudged her gently after the last notes of the closing hymn died away.
She moaned and snuggled deeper into my side. The unconscious affection did something to me. I knew she wouldn’t be sleeping against me if she’d known what she was doing. But I appreciated the connection.
I lightly squeezed her knee. “Sweetness, let’s get you home.”
Paisley roused a little, blinking up at me with bleary, owlish eyes. A red crease marked her cheek from where my shirt had bunched. She blinked again and immediately scooted away. “Sorry,” she murmured, a deep pink flush staining her skin.
“Let’s go.” I carefully steered her out of the pew and down the aisle towards the foyer.
Pastor John caught my eye, and I gave him a brief nod.
His smile was understanding, and he offered a quick wave.
I knew I could expect a text from him, wanting to make sure we were okay.
He was good like that—a real shepherding kind.
Paisley didn’t say much on the way home, just curled up against the window, while I hummed “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” Tonight had been a big step for her, but she’d done it.
Rosie Cotton met us in the entryway, wiggling excitedly, as if we’d returned from a year-long adventure without her instead of just a couple hours. Paisley gave her a half-hearted pat and kicked off her flats before pattering to the sofa.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked, tucking the shoes onto the rack.
She mumbled something I didn’t catch.
“Pais?”
“Hmm?”
“Never mind.” I grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch and carefully draped it over her, then rescued the glasses she’d taken off.
“Bet this isn’t where you saw yourself in life,” Paisley whispered.
I stilled at the words. “What do you mean?”
“Living in a small town with a boring bookish wife who broke her head.”
“You aren’t broken, Pais.”
“Tell that to my memory.”
I paused for a minute. Maybe it wasn’t what I’d expected, but I was definitely where I wanted to be. “From how I see it, I’m exactly where I promised I’d be.”
One eye cracked open, and I knew she could see the outline of my expression, so I crouched down.
“But people break promises all the time,” Paisley whispered. “My mom did.”
The words tugged deep at my heart. “I know, love. But I’m not her. In sickness and in health, till death do us part,” I continued quietly. “I’m not going anywhere, Pais.” But I wasn’t sure she heard me as a soft snuffle filled the room.
I lightly kissed her forehead. “Good night, love.”