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That’s what color he says they are, but to me, they’re more. Greens and golds, browns, with flecks of grey.
Beautiful.
“What?” he grunts, pulling me from my thoughts. I swallow hard and turn fully toward him, but he doesn’t remove his hands, letting them shift then settle once more on my hips.
His thumbs trace circles on my lace covered flesh, but he doesn’t acknowledge it and I think for a moment that he might be doing it without even realizing. The thought and familiarity of his touch settles something in me, giving me the strength to finally open my mouth.
“Ro,” I whisper, flicking my eyes between his, searching for anything, for something in his eyes that will tell me how he feels. “Can we talk about—”
“Not right now,” he says, glancing over my head at the group of people. He steps away and rubs his palms against his black slacks as though he’s trying to wipe away my touch. His soft expression is gone—my Roman is gone.
“But I just need to know—”
“Goldie,” he snaps. “I said not right now.”
The only real words I’ve said all day, the only words that haven’t been some variation of thank you for your condolences, and he shuts them down.
He shuts me down.
How can he do that?
Be everything I need and want, but take it away so easily?
“But—”
“No.”
That’s it.
Just that one word, that one declaration leaving no room for debate.
My lips part at the surprising anger in his voice, but before I can say anything else, he storms away in the opposite direction of where we’re meant to go, and I’m left even more alone than I was before.
I know I’m not really alone. I know I still have him, and Isaac, and my best friend, Olive, and her older brother, Chase. I have the congregation and my friends at school.
But I don’t have my parents.
I don’t have my real family.
As I watch Roman storm away into the thicket of grass and trees, I’m left wondering how I fit into his life. Where do I fit into Isaac’s family now that Mama’s gone?
Am I just the orphan girl he’ll take in because of pity, or will he send me to live with Grandma Jean, forcing me to start over in a new town once more?
Despite all the chaos and destruction that my life has become this last week, I find myself more lost than I’ve ever been as a single question permeates my mind.
Where do I go from here?
Forbidden
For the lips of a forbidden woman drip honey, and her words are smoother than oil. - Proverbs 5:3
“Wow, Olive.” I can hear the choked humor in his voice from several feet away, but my sweet, smiling bestie remains oblivious as always. “This is great. Really.”
Oli grins, bobbing her head in agreement. Her blue eyes sparkle with excitement and mischief as she claps excitedly. Today her hair is pink, yesterday it was blue. Her hair color tells me all I'll need to know about her mood, and pink is good.
“Well,” she shouts. “Put it on, Preacher-man!”
This time, Isaac really does choke but indulges Olive as he drapes the new grilling apron over his head and ties it behind his back. He runs his hands down the thick material, straightening it awkwardly.
