Chapter 42 #2
Frowning, I sit up and grab his face. “That’s a lie, too.
” I have a sudden epiphany. “So if you’re pushing me away because you’re scared of making more mistakes, Brandon—don’t.
Because that would be the biggest mistake of all.
You’d only be taking the easy way out, and I know how disastrous that can be.
” Only once he’s nodded in assent do I settle back down into his arms. “So what do you do when you’re doubting God’s love? ”
He sighs despondently. “I cling to His promises.”
“His promises?”
“His Word. I read the Bible and pray. I keep my eyes fixed on Him and who He says He is. And what He’s done for me.”
“I don’t do enough of that, I guess.” Maybe that’s why I feel so distant from God all the time. It would check out. I’m usually the problem in my relationships.
“While I was still a sinner, Christ died for me,” Brandon murmurs, petting my hair. “That’s one of my favorite things to remember. He died for me in spite of the mistakes He knew I’d make—both before and after accepting Him as my Savior.”
Huh. Interesting. I’d never looked at it like that before.
I play with his shirt, enjoying how safe and loved I feel here in his arms. I wish the love of Jesus was as tangible as this.
Instead, I cling to Brandon as if his love could stand in place of God’s, while also acknowledging—for the first time—that it can’t.
I need Him.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the liquid gold Brandon is pouring over me right away. His hand covers my forehead like a shield, and peace spreads through my soul at the contact—almost like he’s pouring warm oil over my skin, but I feel it from within. Peace. Contentment.
Love.
“Dear Lord Jesus, how short we fall from Your glory, time and time again,” he whispers.
“Forgive us for our shortcomings and be our strength when we’re tempted to doubt Your goodness.
Please, Lord, heal Evie. Heal her body and relieve her from the pain she’s in.
Remind her of Your love when she feels lost and alone.
Be her strength. Be her joy. Be her everything. ”
As he’s praying over me, it strikes me like a bolt of lightning from heaven above just how much I love this flawed, complicated man.
In fact, I think I love him now more than ever before, knowing how much he loves Jesus.
And how he relentlessly pursues God—despite the mistakes he might make along the way.
Just the fact that he’s trying to be a better man, even when he fails, warms my cold, black heart like nothing else.
I sit up abruptly, unable to contain the surge of affection and devotion coursing through me now. I grab his face, squeezing his cheeks tightly as I push my forehead against his.
His eyes flash open in surprise. “Evie, wha—”
“I love you. More than I think I’ve ever loved anyone else, ever. And I want to be with you.”
A slow, hesitant smile lifts his features. “After everything I’ve put you through? You’d give me a second chance—just like that?”
“I’d give you a thousand second chances,” I declare, my heart roaring with sudden zeal. “Seventy times seven second chances.”
He licks his lips, tilts his head and reaches up to cup my chin in his hand. His thumb glides along my jaw, and my heart hammers in my chest as he hesitates. “I don’t deserve you, Evie,” he says. “I never did.”
“Stop,” I whisper, pulling him impossibly closer, until I don’t know where his body begins and mine ends.
“I love you, and I want to be with you.” I hesitate, insecure about his reluctance.
“That is—if you want to be with . . . me.” The sting of his initial rejection comes back to haunt me. “Do you?”
Brandon’s gaze is thoughtful now instead of hesitant. “Evie.” He pecks my nose sweetly. “Of course I want to be with you.”
“But?”
He grins, shifting us sideways to pull something out of his back pocket. My breath catches in my throat when I finally register what I’m seeing. Is that—
I sit up.
It’s an emerald green ring box.
Brandon chuckles low under his breath, tightening his hold on me when I attempt to spring from his lap and bolt across the room. “Relax, Spitfire. It’s not a ring.”
I exhale. I can’t tell whether I’m relieved or disappointed. “Then what—”
“It’s your Christmas present. Or it would have been.
I just never found the opportunity to give it to you.
” He balances the box on his knee. “Open it.” Tentatively, I reach out and pick it up.
Cradling it in my palm, I thumb it open and let out a small gasp.
Inside is an exact replica of the diamond necklace he bought me three Christmases ago.
I glance up. “It looks exactly like—”
“The one you lost?” he offers. I nod sheepishly. Lost is a very diplomatic way of describing the way I ripped it from my neck and threw it on the ground.
“It’s the very one. It was a miracle I found it, but I’m glad I did.”
My eyes widen. “A miracle indeed,” I choke out. I run my thumb along the pendant, observing how the crystal catches and refracts the light, despite its dark hue. “I forgot how beautiful it was.”
“I didn’t,” he whispers huskily, gazing at me.
I glance up at him. A blush coats my cheeks when I see the look of longing on his face. He’s gazing at me like I’m the only woman in the world who truly matters to him.
Maybe I am.
“I want you to do me a favor,” he murmurs before taking the box out of my hand. He pulls the necklace out, and I sweep my hair away and turn around. He makes quick work of fastening the necklace around my neck and pulling my hair forward again—as if he can’t get the jewelry on me quick enough.
I fondle the jewel, enjoying the way it rests perfectly between my clavicles like it has always belonged there. I smile at him. “What’s that?”
He takes my chin firmly in his hand. Frozen, I listen closely, my heart racing, cheeks burning as we gaze at one another. “I want you to take some time.”
“Time?”
He nods. “I’ve prayed about it, and I want you to take some time. Away from me.”
My eyes widen. “Away from you?”
He chuckles at the disgust on my face, in my voice. “Yes, away from me. To heal, to grow. To discover what you really want.” His thumbs stroke up and down my cheeks. “Because I may not be it.” I open my mouth to protest, but he covers it with his palm. “Let me finish.”
Slowly, he lowers his hand. “You’ve loved me all your life, Evie.
But our difference in age still stands. You’re still so young, and there’s so much you still want to do—like travel and go back to school.
I won’t be the thing that stands in the way of you fulfilling your dreams. You deserve the space and time to explore your options. ”
My upper lip curls. “I don’t want options.”
His grin turns impish. “You might change your mind, and I don’t want to rob you of anything. Because what I want . . . it’s too much to ask of you right now.”
“What do you want?” I whisper, floored.
He lifts my hand and rubs his thumb across the knuckle on my ring finger.
“I want your hand in marriage,” he says, gazing softly at our joined hands.
I gasp under my breath. “And babies. I want all the babies you’ll give me.
” We both bow our heads, mourning the baby we lost. “But most importantly, I want to build a life with you. So I need you to know that’s exactly what you want, too. ”
“I do.”
“I believe you. But just do me this favor. Take a year. Continue going to therapy and church. Strengthen your relationship with Jesus. I’ll be here when that year is up. I promise.”
My heart softens at the mention of growing closer to Jesus, and only then do I really begin to hear what he’s saying. He wants me to put my relationship with my Creator first.
“Maybe even go on that trip to Europe, if you want. I don’t care what you do, but you need to do it without me. Okay?” His eyes are comically severe, as if he’s giving me detailed instructions on how to defuse a bomb if necessary.
I nod slowly.
“I’m willing to wait while you figure it all out,” he goes on. “I’ll be as patient as you need me to be. I’m prepared to wait for you as long as you waited for me. Even longer, if I have to.”
Sniffling, I nod again.
He laughs gently and pulls me closer. “In the meantime, I’ll be whatever you need me to be.
If you want me as a friend, I’m here. Or if you want space, I’ll leave you alone.
But I will never walk away from you, Evie.
” His thumb caresses my bottom lip as his words sink in for me.
The tender look on his face is so sweet and patient and wholesome that I nearly come undone at the sight.
He loves me. Truly loves me.
“Oh,” he whispers, smirking at how shaken I must seem.
He toys with the diamond bauble resting against my neck.
“And don’t take this off. Ever. Not unless you’ve changed your mind about me.
As long as you’re wearing this, I’ll know you’re still working through whatever it is you need to work through before you find your way back to me. Can you do that for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I squeak, overwhelmed.
He pulls an envelope from his back pocket. “And one last thing. When that year is finally up, I want you to read this letter. But not a second sooner.”
I take the letter from him.
“Oh,” he says again, and I laugh. “Sorry. One more thing.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s tha—”
His mouth comes down on mine then, and I’m so shocked by his rough, unexpected kiss that I freeze and clam up.
It’s like I’ve forgotten everything he’s ever taught me, and I get a sudden sense of déjà vu as the memory of our first kiss rushes back, the way my brain and lips stopped working in tandem.
He pulls back slightly, our lips parting with an obnoxious smack. “Evie,” he cajoles gruffly, waiting for my reciprocation. His hands tunnel deep into my hair, pulling me closer. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice.