Page 67 of It's Always Been You
“Did you just butt dial me?” she answers.
I chuckle. “No. I thought it would be easier for you to tell me all about your not-exactly-a-hot-date over the phone.”
“Right,” she says petulantly. Grinning, I lie down and tuck an arm behind my head, getting comfortable as she continues. “So, after our candle-lit dinner where we shared our spaghetti Lady-and-the-Tramp style, we went mini golfing.”
“Sure,” I say studiously, resisting the laughter I can feel building deep within my chest. “The one just outside of town, right? Putt-Putt Palace?” That place closed down last spring.
“Yeah,” she says quickly, and I can’t contain my laughter. “What’s so funny? You think mini golfing on a date is lame?”
“Not at all. It’s a convenient excuse to get close to a woman and ‘teach’ her how to putt.”
She snorts. “I take it you’ve done that before?”
“No, actually. But if you like mini golf, I’ll file the idea away.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’m flirting. I can practically see Mom wagging her finger at me.
“Well, I don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “So, you didn’t enjoy mini golfing with Adam, then?”
“Oh, I enjoyed it with Adam,” she clarifies.
I shake my head. She is so stubborn. “Then what did you do? After you went mini golfing?”
“We went to McDonald’s and shared a McFlurry.”
“Is that so?” I just so happened to try ordering an M&M McFlurry this evening, but the ice cream machine was broken. “And after that?”
“Then he took me home. And he walked me to the door like a gentleman.” Her prissy voice holds an accusation in it.Something you never did.
My voice lowers. “And did you let him kiss you goodnight?”
I hear her inhale. “Yep. And it was a very nice kiss.”
My heart thumps against my ribs, going wild with jealousy over the idea of her kissing Adam—despite the fact that she’s making all of this up. “Liar,” I whisper. “About all of it.”
“Of course I’m lying,” she hisses. “I told you it wasn’t a date.”
“I saw you this evening,” I finally admit.
“I know.” I can just picture her blushing. “I saw you, too.”
I thought she might have. “Did you have a good time?” I ask, curious about why they were praying over her this evening. Did she specifically ask for prayer? Or was it an impromptu thing? Admittedly, seeing Adam’s hands on Evie’s shoulders had inspired a rather shameful amount of jealousy in me. I should be thankful he’s inviting her to his Bible study group and praying over her.
And I am.
But . . . that ever-present thorn in my side—myhumanity—keeps cropping up.
Lord, forgive me.
“It was fine,” she says, her voice clipped. “Hey, how much money can I spend on tree decorations?”
My mind struggles to shift gears. “Um . . .”
“Is three hundred dollars too much? I’m about to click checkout on Amazon.”
I sputter. “Three hundred dollars? What? Evie, that’s—”
She laughs. “I’m kidding. Obviously. Is fifty dollars okay? Did you manage to get a tree? I was also wondering if I could get a few items for the lobby.”
