Page 14 of When Forever Stays

He’s slightly exaggerating—it’s not quite a bookstore’s worth—but the number of girls who have signed up for the retreat is astounding. Our small, private island church may not have a huge congregation, but the girls who attend youth group regularly have also invited friends—friends who follow me on social media and message me to tell me how excited they are to learn from me in person.

“No, everything was donated by different companies I work with.” The last thing I expected when creating my social media account teaching women about Bible study was getting noticed by big brands for promotion. This ministry has been more than I ever dreamed of, and I thank God every day for it. Even if my faith has grown stagnant over these last few months.

“Really? Those are some generous donations. What exactly do you do?” He eyes the piles of chaos warily.

“I create Bible study videos for women and in them promote faith-based brands and their products.” As the words fall out, the sensation of utter unworthiness grips my chest. I’ve become a fraud, unable to apply my own teachings to Bible study. It’s going to make leading this upcoming girl’s retreat even more daunting than it’d usually be.

About four months ago Mrs. Woodhouse asked if I’d be the retreat’s main speaker. I’m supposed to walk the girls through various scriptures and teach them how to dissect, study, and apply the verses to their day-to-day lives. My lesson plans should be almost done by now, but I haven’t been able to get a single thought down. Finding Rhett on shore has thrown another wrench into my plans.

Pushing down that consistent unease, I give Rhett a tight-lipped smile and nod. To thwart his questions, I ask, “Are you up for the grand tour? Or are you too tired or in too much pain?”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and whispers, “I’d like the grand tour if you can be my crutch.”

My heart speeds up at his words and I do my best to school my expression.

We shuffle through my small home. I point out the kitchen, combo living and dining room, bathroom, and the three bedrooms, turning on the lights as we go. I only let him get a short peek of my bedroom and bring us to a halt before we step through the door.

“This room is off limits.” I look up at him and hope he can see the seriousness in my expression.

He winks but doesn’t try to push me.

When we reach the bedroom at the end of the hall, my book-nerd heart turns giddy like it does every time I open the door and get a glance into my favorite room of the house. A very generous gift from my billionaire brother-in-law made it possible to turn my sister’s old bedroom into my dream office. The work just wrapped up a week ago.

In the center of the room, my white desk and wingback desk chair wait for me to film videos—if I can ever get past this block. The wall behind my desk is the perfect backdrop with an entire wall of bookshelves, only partly full with my current collection. Many of the empty spaces are reserved for my sister’s future books and any others I collect along the way.

“I see a lot of books by Olivia Swann. Is she your favorite author?” Rhett asks.

Pride fills me as I answer, “She is.”

Ever since Olivia and West have gotten together, her book writing has taken off at a record pace. She puts out a book every two months, at least. Her editor can barely keep up, and I know several of those shelves will be full of her Christian romances in no time. She decided even before they got married that she’d keep her maiden name as her pen name. It makes everything easier for her and her current readers since that was the name on her debut novel. She also wants to make sure any success she sees is from her talents and not because of her billionaire husband.

Rhett releases me, slowly makes his way into the room, and surveys my favorite space. “This is amazing. It fits you.”

Resting my back against the doorframe, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“It’s feminine and fresh with the perfect dash of sass.” He motions to the hints of purple and cheetah print decor sprinkled around the room.

For several long seconds, I stare at him open-mouthed, unable to form a coherent thought. Finally, I say, “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.” How could he know that if he doesn’t remember me? Do I wear my personality that boldly that he’d have that impression of me in less than a day?

“Definitely a compliment.” Rhett bites the corner of his lower lip and raises both eyebrows.

I shake my head and lead him to the spare bedroom.

“This is where you’ll be staying.” I open the door and sweep my hand out as if I’m presenting him with a grand prize. The room is sparsely furnished with a single bed, nightstand, and short dresser with a mirror hanging over it. Several paintings the children’s church made for me hang on the walls. Their artwork surrounds my favorite Bible verses, all written in calligraphy.

I look from the bed to Rhett, then back to the bed and wince. “I’m sorry if it’s a little small for you.”

He eyes the bed, then turns to me. “It’s perfectly fine.” He walks over to it and eases himself down, laying his head on the pillow and stretching his legs to their full length making them hang over the end of the bed. “See, it fits like a glove.”

“If by glove you mean a normal glove that needs to be turned into a fingerless glove to fit your frame.”

The bed creaks in protest when Rhett sits up. He grimaces and holds his bruised side as he walks back to the door.

A rush of sympathy washes over me. “Are you okay?” I motion to his hand on his ribs. “Maybe this little tour was too much for you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

I have to tilt my head back ever so slightly to meet him eye to eye. He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear with his free hand. “Thank you for caring.”

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