Page 7 of Love Everlasting

Her smile swerved. “A wise man once said ‘charm is deceitful and beauty fades,’ so you gotta give me more to go on than that.”

He flashed some teeth. “Charm and beauty, huh? Well, I’ll take it, Miss O’Bryen, although I would have preferred tall and handsome.”

“‘Vanity of vanities; all is vanity,’” she quoted, remembering well how much that lesson had cost her. She dipped her head to peer up, lips pursed in a patient smile. “Hate to break it to you, Doc, but as superficial as we women seem when ogling hot guys, most of us crave way more than a pretty face. And if we don’t, then we’re likely more shallow than the relationship.”

He squinted at her. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

She shrugged. “No reason to. I’m a bottom-liner out of pure self-preservation. I was deeply wounded by charm and beauty, so surface things like that don’t even make the cut anymore. I tend to bypass most of it to get right to the point.” She absently scraped her lip with her teeth, a hint of apology in her eyes. “No matter how sharp that point may be.”

“And here I thought you were the soft and vulnerable twin.”

She grinned. “Used to be.” Her smile faded as she veered off into a distant stare. “Till the truth shattered my world, almost taking my life with it.”

He paused for several seconds, then cleared his throat, peering up beneath the darkest, thickest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. The tenderness in his gaze was so real and intense, it stuttered her pulse. “You know, I barely know you, Shannon, except for snippets here and there I’ve gleaned from Jack, but for some reason I wince inside hearing that. I don’t know—it’s just harder to see pain devastate someone soft and shy like you, who seems to have an innate gentleness about her.”

Her mouth quirked. “Except during detox and discussions of depth?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, smile sheepish. “Except then.”

“Well, then, see?” Hopping up, she grabbed both of their empty cups and took them to the sink. “There’s our first plus as to why Jasmine needs you—your empathy and compassion, Dr. Cunningham. But don’t waste it on me, please. That same truth that shattered my world was also what finally set me free.” Glancing at her watch, she was completely shocked that two hours had already passed since they’d arrived. She tossed a glance over her shoulder. “More coffee?”

“No, thanks. Your mission is to put me to sleep, remember? Not hype me up so I call a cab and go back out.” He squinted at the ceiling as if trying to remember something. “‘You shall … know the truth ... and it shall set you free.’”

She chuckled while she rinsed the dirty dishes and put them in the dishwater, returning with a dishrag to wipe off the table. “Ah, a man who knows Scripture—now there’s a plus in the ‘Jasmine Needs’ column. A show of faith—I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” he said with a wry bent of his mouth. “I’m not big on God or prayer, and that’s the only thing I remember from Sunday school. That and ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’”

“Ah, yes, which brings us to question number three.” She sat back down, hands folded like before, her probing gaze pinning him to the chair. “Explain to me, Dr. Cunningham, just how you can have a fling with anyone else if Jasmine ‘possesses your soul’?”

He grimaced. “Uh-oh, looks like I may have to scratch ‘soft and shy.’”

She shimmied to the edge of her chair, suddenly extremely curious why men—even great guys like Jack before his faith was rekindled—had no qualms about toying with a woman’s affections. “I mean, Jack says you’re a pretty decent guy for a player,” she said, ignoring his flinch, “and you’ve chosen a noble profession, so you obviously have a great love for children. You could have blown me away when Jack mentioned you’ve been part of the Family for Every Child mentor program for years now, which clearly indicates a heart for others.” She leaned in on the table, arms crossed while she absently tugged on her lower lip with her teeth, softening her voice to cushion the blow. “So tell me, Sam, how can a nice guy like you who is supposed to be in love with one woman, tease and take from so many others without ever really giving back?”

“I give back,” he said with a thread of hurt in his tone.

She hiked a brow. “Dinners, dates, and sleepovers? Sounds like more trappings to make you feel better. Call me picky, but that doesn’t say love to me, especially for a woman who ‘possesses your soul.’”

He sat straight up, frustration ridging his brow. “Hey, need I remind you it was Jasmine who broke up with me, Miss Bottom-Line? Not the other way around, so technically I’m a free man.”

A weary sigh feathered her lips as she slumped back in her chair, heart aching for this man who was so desperate for love, yet so clueless as to how to go about it. “But that’s just it, Sam,” she said quietly, “you’re not free. You’re trapped in a cycle of rejection. Jasmine rejects you, so you reject her back, then you turn right around and reject every woman you use to fill the hole in your heart.”

“You’re crazy—I don’t reject anybody,” he snapped. “Especially Jasmine. For crying out loud, I’m so crazy in love with her, I’m sitting here in my kitchen with the room spinning and a sledgehammer pounding my brain, talking psycho-babble with some girl I just met.”

“Sorry, Sam,” she said, brows sloped in a look of sympathy usually reserved for skinned knees and hurt feelings in the classroom. “But that’s not love.”

“Really.” It was more of a statement than a question as he hiked a leg up on the rung of the next chair, one thick brow jutting high. “Then what’s your definition, Einstein?”

Shannon drew in a cleansing breath, closing her eyes to focus on the only kind of love she would ever settle for again. “‘Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth.’” She opened her eyes, her heart flooding with the assurance that this was exactly what God wanted for her too.

And for Sam.

Her smile was pure peace. “‘Love bears all things, Sam, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.’ And you know why?” She stood and pushed in her chair, that very same love she espoused now spilling from her gaze. “Because ‘love never fails,’ Dr. Cunningham, which is the best news I could possibly give you right now.”

She lifted the strap of her purse off the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulder, heart bleeding for this man who had so much potential—and need—for love. “Because if you apply that kind of love in your relationship with Jasmine and every other woman, you won’t fail either, Sam, in finding the kind of love that will truly make you happy.” Her lips twitched with a near smile as she employed her sternest teacher tone. “Now I’m going home, Dr. Cunningham, and you are going straight to bed, understood?”

“Yeeeesssss, Miss O’Bryen,” he said in a sing-song voice à la Eddie Haskell. He grinned with a wide stretch of arms before shuffling to his feet, fingers suddenly clutching the back of the chair when he started to sway. “After I walk you out to your car.”

“No, sir.” She marched around the table, waving him off on her way to the door. “You look like you can barely walk to your room, much less to my car, Doc, so I should be carrying you to bed.”