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“Am I interrupting something?” Truman asks. “Because if I am, tell me now, Holly. I’ve been waiting on you for ages. You say you don’t want to get married … but I have to question all of that now.”
“Can we talk privately?” she asks. “I’ve realized a few things. Important things.”
Truman’s eyes narrow. “You can say whatever you have to say right here.”
“Truman, we were never going to work,” she says. “And since seeing Hunter again, I know why I never committed to you.”
Truman glances between Holly and me. “Is that why your lipstick is on this man’s mouth?” Truman asks, his voice firm.
Holly looks over at me, need and want and hope in her eyes.
“Yes. I kissed her,” I say. “And I plan on doing it again.”HollyTruman is ready for the dance, dressed in a suit and tie like he always is. Steady. Stable. Reliable. A preacher.
He would make my father proud.
I wish I knew why Hunter really left, all those years ago.
But I know it doesn’t matter.
He is here now. Claiming me the way I’ve needed him to do.
“Is that true, Holly?” Truman asks, shock in his voice. “You betrayed me?”
I know whatever I say never will change my life. And I’m glad. I’ve been waiting for a change ever since Hunter left.
“I love him.”
It’s simple. It’s true. It’s destiny.
It is what I’ve always been waiting for.
“You love me?” Hunter asks, stepping toward me, disregarding Truman altogether.
“I always have,” I admit. “I just never knew why you left.”
Truman throws his hands in the air. “Are you kidding me with this crap?”
In the past I would have wanted to placate him -- but in the span of one afternoon my entire world has shifted. The pieces of my life are finally beginning to fall into place.
The words send dark shadows across Hunter’s eyes. “Your father … he told me things that made me … doubt my worth, that made me think that I wasn’t enough for you; for anyone …”
“What did he say?” I ask, covering my mouth as tears fill my eyes.
“I don’t want to discredit the man you idolize--”
I cut him off. “I know my father wasn’t perfect. He was …”
“What?” Hunter and Truman ask at the same time.
“He saw the world in black and white,” I say. “He didn’t understand that there could be gray. That being flawed didn’t mean you were broken. It meant you had lived.”
“This is ridiculous. Your father was a pillar of--” I cut Truman off.
“My father did many good things, but he judged harshly. His gospel was picked over, he took the pieces that worked for him. But that isn’t me.”
“And what are you, Holly?” Hunter asks.
I let my shoulders fall, the truth plain and simple and mine for the taking.
“I’m yours.”
Truman shouts, angry at me, at the way I’ve dragged him along. He wanted to get married, to start a family -- I wouldn’t even give him more than a kiss. And none of our kisses were like the kiss I just shared with Hunter.
My body longs for the man I’ve always wanted. If he chose me, I would give him the world.
Still, things need to end with Truman before I can fling myself into the arms of another man. I look at Truman, wanting him to know I’m sorry. Because I am. If this could work, it would have.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I tell him, knowing my words must sound hollow.
“But you did,” he shouts. “We were supposed to get married, to be the perfect--“
“I’m not perfect. I’m scared to ask for what I want. I’m scared of being alone. And I’m scared that people will realize that I’m a mess.”
“A mess?” Truman scoffs. “But you are the perfect little Christmas present. You were supposed to be the perfect wife--”
“You see what you want to see, Truman.” I step toward him, feeling genuinely sad for him. “But you only see the pieces of me that make you happy. Deep down, we both know I’m not the one for you.”
“And he is?” Truman’s eyes flash with hurt. He might have really believed I could play the part as the preacher’s wife.
“Yes,” I say, not knowing what Hunter does for a living, where he lives, or what his life is like. Not needing those details. Because having him in my life is more than enough.
It’s everything.
“This is ridiculous,” Truman says. “Good luck with your life, Holly. I’ll pray for you.”
He leaves the room then, down the stairs, out the door. And then it’s just Hunter and I. Alone.
“I didn’t expect …” I start.
Hunter steps toward me. “You love me?” Tears fill his brown eyes and they aren’t tears of sorrow. They are tears of hope.
I take a deep breath, knowing there is no going back. Which is fine because I don’t want to.
