Page 40 of A Surefire Love
Her mouth thinned into a line. “I think it’s more than that.”
It was. Carter reminded Anson too strongly of Guriel. But if he explained, the conversation would go in that direction when he and Sydney needed to discuss their relationship. “I hate failing. I knew doubling the youth group was a stretch, but I thought I’d be closer than I am. Now, there’s Carter, and on top of it, I’ve failed you.” Shame heated his face and arms, right down to his fingertips.
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “Tell me about our relationship. How do you see us?”
At least she was still willing to talk. He placed the arrangement in the center of the island. “As the perfect match.”
Her eyebrows hiked.
“I’m serious.” He took the stool beside hers. “We complement each other. Our faith and values align. I trust you completely. I respect you and what you’re about.” The words came easily. Perhaps he should’ve bought a ring. “We make perfect sense.”
She fiddled with the paper tag hanging from her tea bag. “Logically, maybe.”
The words lodged center mass. “Maybe?”
She turned her glassy eyes away. “Logic gave us this year together, but a relationship has to make sense in other ways too. My friends remembered our anniversary over a week ago.” Sydney chuckled. “Madison is more of a romantic than I realized, but even if it’s not fireworks and thrills every time, it’d be nice to have romance sometimes.”
“Don’t we?” He eyed the flowers. “What do you want from us that’s missing?”
“Passion.”
His spine straightened. She’d come up with that pretty quickly.
“My friends questioned whether we even kiss. I know you’re a pastor and we have to set a good example for the kids and the congregation, but even when we don’t have an audience, you’re hardly affectionate.”
He looked down at his clasped hands resting on his leg. Only inches separated them, yet he hadn’t reached out. Hadn’t thought to.
“I’m not just talking about our physical relationship. Even after a year of dating, I hardly know you better than your students do. It’s like you’ve let the job dictate all of who you are, and I don’t get anyone but Pastor Marsh.”
“No one else in Many Oaks knows about Guriel.”
The corner of her mouth turned up ruefully. “You only told me because I stumbled across a picture and asked the right questions, but you never got into the details. Same with the bus accident. That night must’ve been horrific, but you act unaffected.”
“Of course it affects me.” Even her reminders of thetragedies turned his throat raw, and the words burned like bleach in a wound. “It’s why I do what I do.”
“Right. You want to imitate your old coach. You want to help kids before they end up like your brother. That’s what you focus on—the actions and reactions. You pretend that all those losses did was motivate you, not inflict any scars or doubts.”
“You want me to be scarred?” He lifted his hands. Scoffed. “And I should doubt what? God?”
“I want you to be human with me. But …” She dipped her chin, eyes sad. “But I can’t hold that against you, because I … I think I’ve been one-dimensional with you too. I know what you expect from me—and what people at church expect—so I stifle things about myself.”
“Like what?”
“My spontaneity.”
Anson shook his head. “Why would spontaneity be a problem?”
“Because you like routine. Even if you didn’t, the church calendar dictates how you spend several nights a week, and soon, you’ll be juggling basketball again too. If we manage to schedule a date, you know everyone in town. Unless we leave Many Oaks, every date is a group event. I get the whole role model thing, but people have opinions about everything, and keeping them happy is exhausting.” She sipped her tea and blinked slowly as she put it back on the counter. “The whole lifestyle is exhausting.”
Anson crossed his arms as they tightened with offense. Where was this coming from? And what was he supposed to do about it? Change jobs? “I’ve been a pastor and coach as long as you’ve known me. My lifestyle shouldn’t surprise you.”
“You’re right.” She ran her fingers into her pulled-back hair, mussing her ponytail. “I did know, and for the love of my life, I wouldn’t mind the sacrifices.”
And there it was. A truth as powerful as it was ugly.
He swallowed hard. “But I’m not the love of your life.”
Her exhale stuttered, but she held his gaze. “Am I the love of yours?”
