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“Can I get you coffee, Nolan?” Mariana asks.
He grins at her. “Can you put some tequila in it?”
“I don’t know.” Mariana turns to me with a questioning frown. “Are we allowed to give minors alcohol, Pastor?”
Warmth seeps through my veins, and I’m relieved anew at my change of heart. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. I shouldn’t be wishing her away because of my own human frailty.
I smile. “I’m afraid not.”
She winces dramatically. “Sorry, Nolan. Only plain coffee for you. But I can load it up with lots of French vanilla creamer.”
Nolan smiles at her, but this time, his eyes are much warmer.
Damn. She’s good at this, but why am I surprised? She has that playful personality—the ability to put people at ease by just being herself.
As soon as Mariana leaves the room, the spell is broken, and Nolan’s cocky smile returns.
I inhale deeply. “So your mom tells me you’ve been getting into a lot of arguments with her and your dad lately. Do you want to talk about it?”
That smirk doesn’t waver. “Nope.”
I sigh. “I’m not going to force you to talk, but your mom took the time to set up this appointment and bring you here. We have to fill the next forty-five minutes somehow.”
He cocks a brow, and my jaw clenches. God help me with this kid. I don’t want to talk any more than he does.
“I think your tattoo is stupid,” he says, looking at the purple and gold abomination on my left biceps.
I force a smile. “When I was your age, I thought I’d play for the Lakers.”
Nolan snorts. “You’re like six foot nothing.”
“We’re not always wise when we’re young.”
“Oh my God.” Nolan runs his fingers through the long strands of his blond hair. “I can’t. I seriously just can’t right now. You’re the last person I want to talk to. I don’t even believe in God.”
I grit my teeth. This is going to be difficult.
A moment later, a soft knock reverberates on the door, and Mariana enters with a paper coffee cup in one hand. She smiles at Nolan. “I put five creamers in here. Your coffee is practically white.”
Just like before, Nolan’s whole expression softens, and an idea sprouts. Keeping my gaze locked on Nolan, I gesture at Mariana. “She’s an atheist, too.” I grimace when I recall her self-consciousness at church a few days ago. “I hope you don’t mind that I shared that, Mariana.”
She smiles, relieving the tension in my shoulders. “Not at all.” As if reading my mind, she plops down on the couch across from Nolan. “So you’re a heathen too?”
Nolan laughs. “Yep. And proud of it. Organized religion is so stupid. Bunch of sheep.”
Mariana narrows her eyes thoughtfully. “I used to think that too. It made me really mad that no one could prove to me that God was real.”
“Exactly.” Nolan’s eyes light up. “The way they try to prove it’s real is by using scriptures from the Bible. I’m always like, ‘Bro, I don’t believe in the Bible. Show me science.’”
Mariana nods thoughtfully. “I completely agree with you, which is why I stopped asking those questions. They’re never going to be able to give us satisfying answers. And the only reason that makes us mad is because we’re still trying to hold on to our faith.”
Nolan scoffs. “I am not trying to hold on to my faith.”
Mariana lowers her chin. “Then why do you ask those questions?”
“Because my mom and dad force me to go to church.”
“Bring headphones and listen to podcasts during church.”
