Page 164 of Bad Preacher's Daughter

She manages the church’s social media. We hired her marketing firm. It was my way of thanking her for what she had sacrificed.

And she is good at it.

I hug her, holding her in my arms a beat longer than normal.

“I love you,” I whisper.

She smiles and returns the sacred words.

After the service, Jack holds my hand as we walk to the truck. Soft snowflakes swirl around us, rising and falling with our movement. Our breaths warm the air, creating soft plumes that remind us we exist.

My heel gives under a thin layer of ice. Jack catches me, never letting me fall. He brings me close, and we kiss under the pale moonlight.

He’s my sometimes atheist and believer, my helper, my blessing, and the love of my life.

I murmur against his mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, church girl,” he responds without hesitation.