“Yeah.”
“Well, I haven’t…forgiven him. It’s a daily struggle for me. I know that I need to. I know I can’t really move on with my life until I do. I know that God wants me to, and that should be the end of any argument against it. And that because of my inability, I know that I can’t truly be effective for the Lord. They’ve asked a few times if I would take the youth pastor position. And I just can’t. Which is ridiculous because the only real change would be that I would officially have the title and maybe some salary. But how can I call myself a pastor when I’m struggling to forgive this guy? When I habitually check the Ada County Jail roster to see if he’s headed back where I feel he belongs?”
“Chuck, that’s perfectly understandable,” she said.
“Is it? Jesus told us to forgive. To forgive as we’ve been forgiven. And I know that’s what He wants of me. Still, I’m struggling to obey. How is that any different from choices you’ve made? Even more,” he dipped his chin, “how is that any different than what this guy did to me and my mom when he chose to drink and drive his car head on into my Dad?”
They sat for a moment without speaking.
“I’m sorry, Chuck.”
He turned to her, drank in her warm eyes, relished the hand she reached out to set on his knee. The air shifted, electric and warm. Something about opening up to her, speaking aloud the struggles he’d mainly kept to himself, settled around them both, pulling their friendship into new territory. Or, at least, further away from the friend zone than before. He captured her hand and lifted it, setting a kiss against the inside of her wrist. Her pulse quickened beneath his lips.
Warmth spread from their intertwined hands down to his belly. Her skin was as soft as it looked. He lifted his gaze to her eyes again, then allowed it to slide down to her mouth, his own tingling at the thought of how soft those pink lips would be against his. His thumb twitched, ready to reach out and trace the outer rim of her full bottom lip. A tiny bell of alarm rang through his mind.
His heart hammered; and for just a second, he thought he could walk right over his carefully placed boundaries and stake a claim on that luscious pout.
Would it really be so wrong? For the first time, he didn’t think so. They both loved the Lord. Were obviously attracted to each other. What would be so wrong about dating? Lord, I would love the chance to show her what it’s like to be cherished. Then again, maybe she wasn’t attracted to him.
Before he could act on his runaway thoughts, he gave her a quick, playful squeeze and stood up to stretch and yawn. “Well, friend, I better let you get some sleep. I’m wiped.”
Friend? Who do you think you’re fooling?
Lillian blinked and spread the abandoned hand across her chest.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Okay,” Lillian said, inexplicably confused. She rose slowly from the couch, her foot tingling from sitting on it so long, her stomach quivering for…confusing reasons. She followed him to the door, suddenly overcome with the urge to stretch up on her toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. Instead, she rolled her lips inward and bit down. She glanced down, her eyes catching on a piece of popcorn stuck to her shirt.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lilly. She nonchalantly brushed it off and crossed her arms over her chest.
Chuck twisted the handle.
“Hey, Chuck?”
He let go and turned around. “Yeah?”
She bit her bottom lip, her confidence failing her. Her question came at last—high and squeaky, “Can we, uh, pray for each other?”
Fondness melted over his features, pooling into the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. “I would love that.”
They reached out to hold hands and prayed. He, that Lillian would accept the Lord’s grace and see the person that Christ had redeemed—to find confidence in God’s promises and forgiveness. She, that Chuck would step out in faith and forgive as he was called to do. That through that act of obedience, great work would be accomplished for Christ and His kingdom.
“Night, Lilly,” Chuck whispered after he echoed her “amen.”
She shut the door and locked it before leaning against the frame and resting her head on the wood, her hand still on the knob. There had been a different hue to Chuck’s eyes that night, a more personal, almost melancholy quality to his normally bright personality.
How could one friendly little kiss on her wrist and a short dance with those eyes make her quiver so? Only the kiss hadn’t felt friendly. The waltz with the longing in his stare hadn’t either. And never had she prayed with a man before. It was more intimate than she had anticipated. It was what she wanted for herself in the future, but familiar arguments pointing out her unworthiness of such a relationship rose up, threatening to choke her. Lillian sunk to the floor.
For a moment, she’d thought he would kiss her. And, boy, how she wanted him to. The truth he spoke over her warred with her old insecurities. She tried to recall his prayer for her. That she would embrace that the Lord had forgiven her and move on. But that didn’t mean that Chuck wanted her. Did it?
Seriously, Lillian. Get a grip.
A knock above her head rattled the door—and her nerves. She jumped up and away from the door, a hand over her thudding heart.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s Chuck.” His voice was thick.
Lillian drew in a breath, her tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed before shakily unlocking the door. She forced a smile. “You scared me.”
The corners of his lips turned up slightly, but his eyes remained clouded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…” He palmed the back of his neck, shifted his gaze from hers to the floor then to hers again.
She tilted her head, waiting.
Chuck went still, his eyes almost black in the soft light of her table lamps. His hand dropped. Shoulders squared. With one purposeful step, he came for her, cupping her waist with one hand, his other reaching to palm the back of her head, fingers forking into her hair. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have time to react, other than to melt into his embrace.
Chuck was holding her. Looking at her all swoony. Was it really happening? Or did she fall asleep and tumble into a delicious dream?
“Lillian…” His breath fluttered against her cheek, her name thick as honey on his lips and just as sweet. Her eyes slid to half mast, completely unable to open more than that. It took a second to realize that she’d slid her hand up his chest and to his face. Her pointer finger traced the faint scar on his chin.
“Lilly?” She could lift her eyes it turned out, but it was a struggle. His fingers threading through her hair, his warm hand at her waist filled her with a lazy, heady warmth.
“Hmmm?” Her fingers moved from the scar to the edge of his jaw, to his earlobe, then the straight edge of the hairline at the back of his neck. His eyes drooped and softened, his dark lashes fanning across the top of his cheeks. Heat radiated, oozing into the open—minuscule—space left between them like hot fudge over cold ice cream.
He lowered his head, his breath closer than the air she couldn’t seem to pull into her lungs. He licked his lips and suddenly she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the way his lower lip was slightly fuller then the top one.
“May I?” he whispered.
“I wish you would,” she whispered back, her cheeks tingling, arms shaking.
Chuck captured her lower lip for the tick of a heavenly heartbeat before pulling away. He sighed and pulled her closer. His lips fully closed over hers, his hand slipping from the back of her head to cup her face, the pad of his thumb pressing pleasantly against her cheekbone.
Heat flooded her limbs, and she tilted her head, leaning closer into his embrace. He pulled back again and met her gaze, the storm in his eyes swirling, flashing, snapping. Then a smile and another kiss. Another withdraw, another moment with his eyes raking over her face. Again, the brightness of his smile contrasted with his dark eyes, like a fragrant ra
in storm dominating a sunny day, stirring her, making her knees tremble. The light in his gaze was so beautiful it hurt. She grew bold and pressed her lips to his again, already addicted to the pressure of them against her own.
Her brain barely registered when he reached out a foot to kick the door closed, or the few steps he took, directing her to the closed door of her office. She was grateful for the hard surface at her back, supporting her just as her legs threatened to give out.
Had she truly thought what she had with Drew was special? That his kisses were passionate? Because nothing in their relationship—or any other she’d experienced for that matter—came close to the heady squeeze of pleasure that worked through her insides as they melted from Chuck’s touch on her cheek, her hair, against her back.
Just as the thought worked through her, a flash of a moment with Drew showered down, raw and jarring. Of scalding heat. Dark impatience. Greedy want. Ice scurried down her back, and she pushed against Chuck. He immediately let go and retreated. Lillian covered her face, humiliated.
“Oh, Chuck. I’m sorry.”
The rise and fall of their breath was pronounced in the quiet apartment. Shame throbbed through her, and Lillian sank to the floor, still covering her face. She felt his hands on her knees. Heard him clear his throat.
“Lilly, what are you sorry for?”
“That kiss went against everything we were just talking about.”
A kind chuckle. “Interesting thought. How so?”
She chanced a peek at him. He knelt before her, hands resting on her knees, eyes twinkling, Labrador grin in place. Exasperated, she scrambled to her feet. Bad idea; her rubbery legs threatened to give out. She pressed into the wall. He stood as well.
“Because, Chuck, I…” how could she tell him that though their kiss was innocent, the memories that flashed over her were anything but? She licked her lips. Stared at his Adam’s apple. Shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
He set a hand on the wall near her head. Lips still warm, heart still fallible, she ducked under his arm and backed up a few paces. Melting all over the floor was a very real threat. And a very, very bad idea. She crossed her arms and squeezed hard—as if she could hold her drippy emotions in place.
Chuck turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets. His smile was gone now. Worry—or was it regret? —masked his features.
“Lilly, I don’t think we were doing anything wrong or in any way went against what we just talked about. But hear this, I will never purposefully put you in a position that compromises our faith or morals. I care about you. As more than a friend or neighbor or boss. I think you’re special. I don’t care about your past except for the pain it causes you. I see standing before me a godly, beautiful, renewed woman. And I intend to prove to you just how special I think you are.”
She stared into his eyes, inexplicably terrified. Kisses that rich couldn’t stay innocent, could they? Even worse…she cared about Chuck, too. More than anyone she’d had a relationship with in the past. But all she could think about was one simple truth—no man had ever been faithful to her. Ever. No man had ever found her worthy enough to stay. To fight for. She couldn’t bear to go through that kind of betrayal with Chuck. Better to stop now before history repeated its relentless course.
“I just think maybe we should be…I mean those kisses were…It would just be...” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Must. Form. Complete. Sentences. But, honestly? After that exchange it was a wonder she was forming words at all. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her limbs weighted.
“I think I need to get some rest. I’m not, uh, thinking clearly,” she said at last, opening her eyes.
Chuck nodded, swallowing. He stepped toward her, a shadow passing over his eyes at the way she tensed up. The hand that had begun to come up as if to touch her shoulder or caress her face, stopped short, curled into a fist, and dropped to his side. His gaze roamed her face, the whites of his eyes catching the light. He offered her a warm smile.
“I understand, Lillian. Please know that on this end, there is no pressure. Ever. I only want to cherish you.”
Silence popped between them. She kept her gaze glued to the floor. A soft whisper of his breath stirred her bangs when he drew near to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, then slipped out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Shhhh!!!”
An elbow jabbed into Lillian’s ribs. “Ouch!”
“SHHHH!”
Tiffany’s shooshing was louder than Lillian’s movements, and she knew it. The women giggled, feeling very much like kids. They crouched low, backs against the scratchy stone wall, and leaned into one another, relishing the scheme they had cooked up.
It had been two weeks since Chuck had kissed her senseless. Two weeks of stiff meetings and awkward glances. Well, at least on her part. Chuck, on the other hand, grinned like a fool every time she saw him. Not only that, but he complimented her frequently, his attraction plain and open. Each time he tried to bring up that night, she shimmied out of the conversation like a kid in itchy clothes. The fear that had worked into her heart at the thought of starting something only to have it end in heartache pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting. Eventually, they would find their way back to their former friendship if she pretended the kiss never happened. Right?
There went her logic, rolling its eyes at her again.
Not that she didn’t lie in her bed night after night thinking about The Kiss. From the moment he set his hand on her waist to the one where he asked her permission—hello-Mr.-Dream-Come-True—to that sexy door kick. She replayed the two hundred and fifteen seconds like a favorite scene from a show. It was better than when Jim confessed his love for Pam; better than the first-time Ross kissed Rachel; better than Luke telling Lorelei he was all in. Those two hundred and fifteen seconds dominated every swoony moment in any of her Hallmark movies.
She had to stop the reel before it got to the part where she shoved him away and sank to the floor.
During the day, Lillian avoided Chuck’s open stares, kept things light, and spent more time with Tiffany—who had no idea that her two friends had kissed.
When Lillian mentioned to her the few times in her old apartment that she’d seen strange cars late in the night at the parking garage, Tiffany had been fascinated by what could be happening right there across from their apartment building. The garage was visible from Lillian’s apartment, but the section where cars had stopped to search for the box was hidden by a wall. They’d decided—or rather Tiffany had decided—that they needed to be closer to the action.
Where Lillian had been curious, Tiffany was downright fixated on what those cars were doing. “I mean, we could crack some big case, Lilly! We could be on Dateline,” Tiffany wiggled her brows up and down, causing Lillian to roll her eyes.
They often discussed the dangers of single women watching Dateline—usually after Tiffany called Lillian in the middle of the night, certain that there was a killer in the building. Tiffany insisted that she couldn’t stop watching because she was in love with Keith Morrison, and she didn’t care about the consequences.
On this warm evening, they dressed in black pants and dark shirts and climbed on the roof to see what they could see. Tiffany had wanted to hide right behind the wall that the box was in, but Lillian, still not sure of the idea and certainly having no desire to be on Dateline—Keith or no Keith—had convinced her that they could hide just as easily on the Idaho Building roof and have a clear view. The garage next door was only a few stories shorter after all.
The innocent fun was just what Lillian had been craving for so very long. Tiffany was fun and caring, wise when Lillian needed reminders about life, and funny when Lillian needed to loosen up. It warmed her heart how God had brought Tiffany into her life. A gal pal that invited her to shenanigans was exactly the distraction Lillian needed to help her abolish her feelings for Chuck.
The scent of tomato blossoms tickled Lillian’s nose, reminding her of the garden party and dinner just the night before. It’d gone just how she imagined, with more than half of the building coming for the event. They filled the garden boxes with tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, squash, corn, sugar snap peas, and who knew what else. Lillian had arranged a table with large popsicle sticks and sharpie pens for the contributors to mark their plants. She still needed to check them out.
For the majority of the evening, Chuck had stood across the roof, a Jones soda in one hand. He watched her all night, not bothering to hide his affection. Lillian did her best to stay on the other side of the roof. She worked her way from group to group, introducing neighbors and planning future potlucks. Each time she risked a glance at Chuck, he was quick to meet her eyes. The tender pride of his gaze heated her skin and terrified her.
Lillian had to turn away every time he took a pull on his soda to keep from marching over and kissing him silly. She was pretty sure she was close to Tiffany’s Keith Morrison level of foolishness; she was in love with Chuck’s mouth and didn’t care about the consequences.
Her phone had chimed in her pocket halfway through the night. A text from Chuck.
You’re amazing. Look at all of these happy neighbors. Now…tell me which one is Guy Who Picks His Nose in the Elevator?
One side of her mouth ticked up in amusement as she typedNone of your business, and searched for a GIF of Kermit the Frog drinking tea to add to it. She pressed send and watched Chuck open her text. He laughed out loud at the message and wagged his finger at her.
And darn it, there went all her arguments about why kissing Chuck and dating Chuck, and kissing Chuck some more, was a bad idea.
Thankfully Tiffany, her God-send of a friend, had been there, avoiding Felix more zealously than Lilly was avoiding Chuck. They made a good pair.
Lillian looked over at her friend, now slumped down beside her in a lounge chair on the roof, watching for drug lords. She smiled.
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