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Something about the way he says it makes me believe he means it.

“So,” he asks after a moment, “do you still go to church?”

I can’t help laughing.

“Funny you should ask.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I actually went last Sunday. The first time in...” I pause, doing the math in my head, “a long time.”

Luke nods thoughtfully.

“And how was it?”

“Better than I expected.”

“That’s good.”

“It was.”

I trace my finger around the edge of my cup.

“The pastor gave this challenge.”

“What kind of challenge?”

“He asked everyone to commit to six months.”

Something moves across Luke’s face. For a second he goes still, his cup paused halfway to his mouth. Then it’s gone.

He sets the cup down. “Six months?”

“To show up every Sunday you can. Join a community group. Get involved. Basically...” I shrug. “He said six months is long enough to stop treating church like something you visit and start treating it like somewhere you belong.”

He nods, slow, like the words landed somewhere specific I can’t see.

“I like that,” he says.

“I did too.”

“Are you going to do it?”

The question catches me off guard.

“I’ve been debating it.”

“What’s holding you back?”

A small laugh escapes before I can stop it.

“It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

“Try me.”

“I’ll be there alone.” The words feel almost childish. I turn my cup a slow half-circle on the table, watching it instead of him. “I’m twenty-seven years old, and somehow walking into church by myself feels terrifying.”

Luke doesn’t laugh.