Page 109 of When Love Takes Root

A rose petal fell from somewhere above us and turned slowly through the lantern light before resting near the edge of the table.

I swallowed. “After he died, everybody kept talking about how blessed I was to have been loved like that. And I was. I am. But sometimes, being loved well makes starting over harder. Because now I know what it feels like to be cherished, and I also know what it feels like to have it snatched from the middle of an ordinary day.”

His jaw flexed, and his hand moved closer to mine across the table, stopping just short of touching.

“What scares you most?” he asked.

I looked into my tea. Steam curled against my chin and disappeared.

“That if I let myself love again, I’ll spend the whole time waiting for God to take it back.”

His hand covered mine.

He didn’t rush to correct me. He didn’t tell me God didn’t work that way. He didn’t hand me a bright little phrase and call it healing. He turned my hand palm-up and traced one slow line across the center with his thumb.

“I’m sorry you have to carry that.” My eyes burned, but I blinked the tears back because I did not want to cry into the hibiscus tea on a first date. “You don’t have to hold tears hostage with me.”

I laughed softly. “I’m not trying to cry tonight.”

“You’re not trying to do a lot of things your heart keeps doing anyway.”

I looked at him. “That sounded like a read.”

“It was gentle.”

“It was accurate.”

“Both can be true.”

I shook my head, but my fingers tightened around his.

“What about you?” I asked.

His thumb slowed over my hand.

“What about me?”

“You keep reading me like a devotional with notes in the margins, Mr. Brooks. But I know a man doesn’t get that careful with a woman unless something taught him the cost of moving wrong.”

His eyes stayed on mine for a second before he looked down at our joined hands. “Her name was Domonique.”

The name settled between us without fanfare, but I felt the weight of it in the way his shoulders shifted.

I didn’t reach for my tea. I didn’t fill the silence with comfort he hadn’t asked for. I just waited.

Josiah’s thumb started moving again, slow and absent, as if touching me helped him speak without letting bitterness climb into his voice.

“Domonique and I were together long enough for me to start making plans around her. I don’t do casual well. Never did. If I’m locked in, I’m locked in. I was working long days, building the business, helping Mama, looking out for people, thinking I was laying foundation. Turns out, she had Kacey laying something else.”

My hand froze around my teacup. “Kacey?”

Josiah’s thumb stilled against my knuckles. “My alleged childhood best friend.”

The words came out calm, but something in his jaw betrayed him.

I lifted the tea to my mouth because anything else felt too small for what he had just placed between us. The hibiscus hit my tongue warm and sharp.

“My God,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”