Page 46 of The Dating Game

“Oh, thank you.” Sarah looks taken aback. By what I can’t be sure. Was she expecting a different response? Maybe for me to beg her to come? Or to say that now that I know she’s interested I’ll dump Brooke right away? Surely not. “So you and, uh, Brooke, you’re pretty serious then?” Her tone is casual, but she might as well be a guy with a boat and a reel with the fishing vibe she’s giving off.

“Um. I don’t know. It’s still pretty new, but I like her.” There, that was relatively vague, but hopefully also doesn’t give her the wrong idea.

“I see.” Sarah folds her hands in her lap. “Well, if you really can’t find anyone feel free to circle back to me.”

“Oh. Okay.” This has been a weird conversation. Is she backing out or not? Truthfully I’m starting to think shewasexpecting me to beg her to come.

Sarah gets to her feet and heads out of my office. She pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at me.

“I hope Brooke realizes how lucky she is to have you, Will. A good Christian guy like you is hard to come by.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just gives me a small smile and continues out the door. I’m left wondering if I’ve made a mistake. I’m chasing a woman who doesn’t want me to catch her, when I have this other woman who, sure, does some things that aren’t my favorite, but is a nice person, and, you know, actually interested in dating me.

I search for the convictions I felt in the club last night, but can’t find them. If I have no future with Brooke, why am I staying with her? Is it just for those few and far between moments when I think maybe, just maybe this isn’t completely fake for her?

Those moments are so good. That’s the problem. If she really felt something for me, I could see a wide, open future with her. One that’s full of laughter and joy and dancing. And I don’t just mean dancing in a salsa club or at Twist and Shout—though certainly it would include those—I mean dancing at our wedding or in our kitchen with only the light of the stars shining through the window or in the basement with our children, having an epic family dance party—

But that future could be a mirage, my imagination’s response to the fact that I’ve been wandering alone through life for so long.

I don’t know what to do, but if I’ve learned anything over the years it’s that there’s always at least one right thing to do when you’re lost: fix your eyes on Jesus. So I fold my hands and bow my head and pray.

I don’t hear any audible response to my prayer for direction, but I do feel a release of pressure roll over me providing me with a lighter spirit. No matter what path I choose at least I can go forth knowing that my ultimate desire is His will for my life.

I believe God will grant me that desire.

Chapter 17

Brooke

“Ohyes,PastorAbbotttold me you’d be coming, dear. Welcome,” a friendly-looking woman with a name tag that reads Ruth greets Hannah from behind the front desk of Birch Tree Memory Care Facility. “And how lovely you invited your sister along. It’s always such a beautiful service.”

“Invited is a strong word,” Hannah mutters darkly. She’s possibly still a little salty about the way I scared the heck out of her by opening her car door right as she started the engine. Needless to say she had not been expecting me and thought I was a carjacker.

Her imagination always has had a worst-case-scenario bent to it. But still, perhaps I should’ve texted that I wanted to join her at the worship service Will and Luke run at this memory care facility rather than showing up out of the blue. In my defense it was sort of a last minute decision. Not at all premeditated.

Which lessens my crazy, right? Generally speaking, premeditated murder is a more serious legal offense than second-degree murder, so it follows that second-degree spying would also be a lesser offense than planned spying.

Not that I’mspyingon Will. I’m simply accompanying Hannah to a place where he is going to be standing in the front of a room for everyone in attendance—myself included—to see.

In this case the semantics are crucial to myinnocence.

Ruth points us in the direction of the common area where the service is held and we head down the hallway, following the soft sounds of a guitar playing.

We walk into the room and my eyes immediately zero in on Will, the breath escaping from my lungs as I catch sight of the guitar in his hands. I never thought it could be possible for one man to check off so many of my boxes, and yet there’s Will checking ‘em all off like he’s the exact present I’ve been begging for wrapped up under the tree Christmas morning: good singer—check, good dancer—check, and now plays the guitar—check. And the bright red bow on top: he uses all of these gifts for the glory of God.

Dang, I think I just swooned. And of course it’s as I’m mid-swoon that Will spots me. His familiar smile pops up so quickly that I can tell he didn’t even have to think about putting it there; it just popped up automatically at the sight of me. I didn’t know that was one of my boxes until this moment, but it officially is. Just the sight of me makes him smile—check.

Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. I am officially gone for Will. When did that even happen?

Hold up!I instruct myself as Hannah ushers me to a seat near the back of where all of the patients are already gathered,you are only gone for the Will you salsa danced and had a meaningful conversation with. Let’s not forget the other version of Will.

Although, is the other version reallysobad? What are a few annoying habits in the long run? I could train him to come to the door instead of honking. Plus if we got married, we’d be in the same house eliminating the need for him to pick me up for dates and the honking by extension. And maybe we just don’t golf or ride bikes together in the future. It’s not like all couples everywhere do those things.

Jill and Max never bike together.

They do golf, but whatever…it’s not like they’re the measuring stick for success as a couple.

Even if they are sickeningly happy together.

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