Page 47 of Divine Temptations
We’ll never be rich.
But we’re wealthy in ways I never imagined.
People still ask us what happened after that day in the church. After the kiss.
The short version? They kicked me out of the fellowship before the choir finished their closing hymn. I didn’t even pack up my office. Just walked out, holding Jake’s hand.
He lost his maintenance job with the church the same week.
And I won’t lie, it was hard. Losing the job didn’t break Jake, but losing his house? The one his dad left him? That hurt. I remember the way he stood in the living room, staring at the floor like it had betrayed him.
“There’s no reason to stay,” I breathed. “We’ve got everything we need. Just not here.”
He didn’t answer for a long time.
Then he nodded.
We sold the house and packed up everything we had into a rented trailer. The town gave us a sendoff like we were heading off to war. Half of them crying, half of them proud. Of course, none of the church members said goodbye. Jobs were scarce, but kindness wasn’t. We carried that with us.
And now?
Now, we live a life full of simple, sacred things.
Like the way Jake kisses my shoulder every morning before I wake up. Or how he keeps a little bookshelf at his bike shop for “Ethan’s smutty recs.” Or how he proposed to me last month under the stars, nervous and serious and shaking like a leaf.
I said yes before he could finish asking.
The ring is simple. Silver. It catches the light when I hand someone their receipt at the shop, and every time I see it, I remember that moment. Jake kneeling in the dirt, with the dogs barking in the distance and his hands trembling as he said, “I want to grow old with you, Ethan.”
“You still thinking about the wedding?” Jake asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I smiled at him, sunlight hitting his face just right. “I was thinking about how lucky I am. But yeah… the wedding too.”
“Just tell me where to stand and what to wear,” he said, finishing his coffee. “I already got everything I need.”
I reached for his hand.
Pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
“Same.”
This was the genuine miracle.
Not the church, or the sermons. Not even the kiss that shook a sanctuary full of sinners.
The miracle was surviving it. Choosing each other.
Every single day.
And building a life that looked nothing like the one we left behind,
but felt more like heaven than anything else ever could.
