Page 98 of When Love Takes Root

“Yes, he is.”

“You sound happy about that.”

“I’m not happy. I’m prepared.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

“And tomorrow, if you’re still willing, I’d like to take you somewhere that doesn’t involve emergency hunger or electrical damage.”

Her smile faded into something softer. “A real date?”

“A real date.”

She touched the edge of the doorframe. “I might need to talk to God about that.”

“You should.”

“You’re not going to pressure me?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

I leaned down, close enough to make her breath pause, but not close enough to kiss her again without permission. “Celeste, I want you saying yes because peace agrees with you. Not because I made desire too loud for you to hear God.”

Her eyes held mine.

Then she whispered, “You’re something else.”

“So are you.”

I stepped outside before my restraint started filing complaints.

The evening air hit my face, warm and damp with the smell of rain coming. I walked to my truck slowly, feeling her at the door behind me before I turned. She stood there in the glow of her shop, one hand near her chest, locs over her shoulder, mouth holding the trace of our first kiss.

I lifted two fingers.

She smiled, then she locked the door.

I sat in my truck for a while before I started it, hands resting on the steering wheel, heart still moving like it had somewhere to be. Through the windshield, the shop lights glowed steady. No flicker. No surge. No warning hiding in the walls.

For tonight, the current held.

I bowed my head.

“Big G, . . . thank You. Keep me patient. Keep me honest. Keep me from moving faster than You’re leading. Amen.”

I started the truck and pulled away from Celestial Crowns with rain beginning to dot the windshield, each drop catching the streetlight before sliding down the glass.

Behind me, the shop stayed lit.

Ahead of me, the road opened.

And somewhere in the middle of want, patience, and surrender, I felt God teaching me how to move toward love without stepping over what made it worth protecting.

Sunday Evening

Two days after Josiah kissed me in the middle of my half-repaired salon and left my common sense leaning against the wall holding its chest, my little sisters, Calista and Cassia, invaded my bedroom while my big sister Corinne supervised via FaceTime like a parole officer in a bonnet full of discernment.