Page 124 of When Love Takes Root

“Domonique too?”

“Yes.”

“And your daddy?”

“Yes.”

She stepped closer and placed her hand against my chest, right over my heart.

I covered it with mine.

She looked up at me. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You don’t look scared.”

“I am,” she said softly. “Just not of you.”

I lowered my head for a moment.

That one got inside me.

Then she gave a small laugh that broke at the end. “I came over here thinking we were going to eat, flirt, and watch a movie. Now I’m crying in your kitchen.”

“You want me to fight whoever made you cry?”

“It was you.”

“I’ll speak to myself.”

That got me the laugh I wanted.

She wiped under her eyes. “Please do.”

I dampened a paper towel and handed it to her. “For your face.”

She took it. “You keep making me cry, then providing supplies.”

“That’s not my ministry.”

“It might be.”

She pressed the towel beneath her eyes, then leaned back against the counter. “Can I say something without you thinking I’m being dramatic?”

“I already like dramatic women.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse you.”

“Say it.”

She looked toward the rosemary before she spoke. “Sometimes, I think I don’t deserve this.”

“This?”

“You. Dates. Laughing. Being looked at like this. Having somebody think about my kids before he even meets them properly. Being prayed over. Being wanted.” She swallowed. “I had a great love already, Josiah. A pure one. A real one. And sometimes, it feels selfish to ask God for that again when some people live their whole lives and never get loved like that once.”

I stayed quiet.

She needed space more than rescue.