“Good.” She smiles, and a bit more of that wall is torn down. “Well, Sawyer, did Marlene ever find you?”
I snort, recalling the interaction I had with the woman on my run this morning. “Unfortunately, yes. However, Zane and Tessa came to the rescue.”
“Oh? Do tell how my brother became your Knight in Shining Armor.”
“More like sweaty running clothes,” I reply. “They were out for a run, too, and came across Marlene and me as she was telling me that she found my ‘perfect match’.” I use air quotes, and Anastasia’s smile widens.
“Who is this perfect match?”
You, I want to say. But given the thin ice our friendship is on, I keep it to myself. “The granddaughter of a friend of hers.”
“Granddaughter? Isn’t she my mom’s age?”
I nod. “Apparently, her friend is a bit older, and her granddaughter just turned nineteen.”
“Nineteen?” Anastasia looks about as horrified as I felt in the moment, though the humor is quickly replacing her shock. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, how I wish I weren’t. Turns out, Marlene thought I was quite a bit younger than I am. Which, I guess, is kind of a compliment.”
“You do have such a baby face,” Anastasia jokes. “Though the beard ages you.”
I laugh softly, feeling a bit of the weight I’ve been carrying the last few months melt away. How could I have ever thought distance was what I needed? Having her here feels an awful lot like returning home.
“Yeah, well, Zane and Tessa quickly rescued me by asking how my girlfriend was doing. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’ll fool Marlene long.”
“Well, at least they bought you some time.”
“Yeah.” I take another bite of soup, letting it soothe a whole lot more than my empty stomach. “Thanks for coming tonight. And bringing this.”
“Of course. My mom stopped by today since I wasn’t at church yesterday.”
“You didn’t go to church?”
Thanks to Zane, who showed me that following Jesus doesn’t necessarily mean life is smooth sailing, I do have faith. I pray and read the Bible when I remember to, though not nearly enough as I should. It’s hard to get myself into church, though. Mainly because some of the foster families I wound up in as a kid were Sunday parishioners but horrible people during the week.
I have cigarette burns on my back to prove that.
But Anastasia is an every-Sunday-and-during-the-week kind of woman. She volunteers constantly, and as far as I know, aside from being sick, she has never missed a week. Her love for Sunday mornings is why I’ve been secretly meeting with Pastor Reeves over the past couple of months, trying to work my way up to a pew seat on Sunday mornings.
“I wasn’t really feeling up for it. I took yesterday and today off from work, too.”
“Were you sick?”
“No,” she replies. “I just needed a break. A chance to get my thoughts right.”
Jack. I almost forgot that, less than seventy-two hours ago, she’d been in a serious relationship, proposed to, then dumped. That’s a lot for anyone to process. “Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “There are times when it hits me that he left. Our relationship wasn’t bad. He is a kind man, and he treated me well. Which, I guess, is why the guilt is so much worse than the heartbreak.”
“Guilt?”
“I knew that I didn’t feel what I thought I should. But I still let the relationship continue.”
“Why?”
“Hope, I guess? I wanted to love him in that way, but—” She trails off, but I don’t speak because I’m genuinely afraid of what might come out if I do. “There was just always something missing.” She smiles awkwardly, takes a drink of coffee, and stares down at the cup.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I still think he’s an idiot for walking away.”
