“I mean, he tried…” he says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “He tried to blackmail me into leaving you and taking the job at his church. And in return, he would give you that.”
“So how…”
“I turned him down. I left. I told him to get fucked. And then…he signed it anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” I cry.
With a sigh, he leans back in the booth and stares across the table at me, softness around his eyes. No longer so distraught or worried. He seems at peace.
“He told me the choice was mine. Then, he tried to tell me that if I stayed with you while you owned this club, my career in the ministry would be over. He tried to tell me that you were holding me back, but I can’t help but wonder…if I’m the one holding you back.”
I lean forward, feeling the panic start to rise again.
“What are you talking about?”
“Peaches, I just want you to have everything you ever wanted.” He says it so plainly, I’m sitting here wondering if he’s suddenly lost his mind. My hands ball into tight fists, and I want to punch him for how stupid he’s being right now.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I reply, drawing the eyes of those around us again. “All I’ve ever wanted was you, you
idiot. I never had a family, Adam. I’ve never had a place where I truly belonged. Now, I have you. I don’t give a shit about the club. I just need you.”
“You know it’s going to be hard, right? As long as we’re together, you may never get your VIPs back or your members.
And you’ll have to start from scratch.”
I let out a long, frustrated groan. “Stop trying to be so fucking good. Stop trying to follow the rules, Adam. Fuck the rules. Fuck the right thing. And fuck the VIPs. I won’t even have a VIP section at my club. And anyone who has issues with you can fuck off.”
A smile stretches slowly across his face, but I still want to punch him. I want to punch his stupid, perfect, handsome face.
Then I want to kiss it.
“Come here,” he mutters in a low, sexy command, and I jump up from my seat in the booth and crawl into his next to him, burying myself under his arm. He cuddles me close, and I inhale the familiar scent of his cologne. His arms feel like home to me now.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says against the top of my head. “I just…do my best writing here.”
“I thought you left me,” I reply, looking up into his warm-brown eyes.
“I would never leave you like that, Peaches. I told you. I’ll be here for as long as you want me to.”
Closing the distance between us, he presses his lips to mine, and I just hold him there for a minute. Our mouths pressed together, content to just be touching.
Someone across the aisle clears their throat, and Adam looks up, looking offended. With a roll of his eyes, he mutters,
“Prude.”
I giggle as I squeeze my arms around him. “What are you writing?” The yellow pad of paper on the table is already full.
“A letter to my brother.”
“Did you tell him about me?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Yes. I told him all about you.”
The waitress refills Adam’s coffee cup and sets another on the table for me. My eyes catch on the manila envelope on the table, and it suddenly dawns on me that I finally have the club to myself. Brett is gone. And I can finally start the venture the way I want to.
“So…” Adam says as he picks up a bite of his scrambled eggs, dips them in ketchup, and feeds them to me like a child.
“What are you going to name your new club?”
As I’m chewing, I furrow my brow. “What’s wrong with Pink?”
He shrugs. “I thought you’d like to start fresh. Pick something you’d really like.”
“Hmm…” I say, mixing creamer into my coffee. “What about…Sex Church.”
He laughs, nearly choking on his waffles. “Why don’t we brainstorm a little longer?”
I’m chuckling over my cup of coffee before resting my head on his shoulder. I feel his lips on my head just as I notice an older couple watching us with curiosity from across the restaurant.
I know we look like an odd pairing, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. We might be incompatible or complete opposites, but I’ve found a good man, and I’m not going to let him go.
I don’t need him to be a hero—I just need him to be here.
Adam’s Epilogue
Three months later
“W e need more plates,” Sage says, rushing around me and heading toward the kitchen.
“They’re stacked up by the fridge,” I reply, glancing back toward the room she disappeared into. If I wasn’t up to my elbows in mashed potatoes, I’d help her.
“Found ’em!” she says, jogging back out to the rec room with a stack of paper plates in her arms.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I shout at her as she brushes past me.
Turning with a perplexed look, she stares at me as I smile and lean toward her, waiting for a kiss.
“Can’t you see I’m busy, Church Boy?” she replies, stepping closer to press her lips to mine anyway.
With a lopsided grin, I watch her walk away, delivering the plates to the end of the table, where my mother is greeting our guests.
“You’re so screwed,” my brother Caleb says with a laugh next to me, where he’s serving gravy for the turkey and mashed potatoes.
“Screwed?” I ask.
“I give it three months before you two are married and six months before she’s knocked up,” he replies, shaking his head as if he knows something I don’t.
“And you call that screwed? Don’t let your wife hear that.”
Caleb’s smile falters for a moment.
“Screwed in a good way, of course. Marriage is bliss,” he adds. There’s no hint of a smile on his face this time.
While I focus on scooping mashed potatoes and greeting our guests, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more going on with Caleb than he’s letting on. Dread starts to seep in through the cracks.
He and Briar were once crazy about each other, too. I remember when he brought her home. The way he looked at her like she was the most dazzling diamond this world had ever seen stuck in my memory for a long time. Briar and Caleb were the real thing.
Sage laughs on the other side of the room, and I glance up to watch her standing with Gladys, Mary, and Sylvia. When I catch her eye, she winks at me, a sly, secretive smile stretching across her face.
Being married to her would be bliss. My life is already perfect. We spend our days in our apartment now since I finally put mine up for sale and it was snatched up almost immediately. At night, we work at the club together, and on Sundays, we’re here.
We’re not holding services at the new church. Not yet, and maybe not ever. There’re a lot of legalities and church property laws to get through before it becomes officially mine, but for now, the owners lease it to us for gatherings and events like today—free Thanksgiving dinner for the community.
I have no idea yet what I want to do with this place or with my life. The ministry doesn’t feel like my path anymore, but I can’t seem to let this place go either. I’m still so afraid of turning into my father that the idea of delivering sermons and building a congregation makes me uneasy. For now, this is enough.