Page 58 of The Billionaire's Wife

“I know Tristan, though. He’s happier now that you’re here. He’s…softer somehow.” Jenna lifted a shoulder. “Watching him tonight? He’s in love with you.”

I swallowed. It was one hundred percent what I wanted to hear, but how did I trust it? “He just wants to save me.”

“Wow. You’re a tough nut.” Jenna drummed her fingers on her knee. “I’m not going to push, even though I’m pretty positive you’re wrong. You don’t know me super well, so I’m going to point out that this is a big concession for me. But we have to share a bed and I don’t want you to smother me in my sleep.”

I laughed. “In the interest of brutal honesty, I want it to be true. I just…have a hard time believing it.”

Jenna studied me for a moment.

I wanted to squirm.

Finally, she reached over and rubbed my leg. “Maybe work on that. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Can I ask you a question?” The words blurted out before I thought about them.

“Sure.” Jenna settled back.

“The praying thing. If, hypothetically speaking, someone used to be pretty good about praying and reading the Bible and then stopped. Is God really okay with them coming back? No matter what?”

“Absolutely.”

“You say that fast.” I bit my lip.

“Because it’s an easy answer.” Jenna leaned forward. “God wants everyone to come to Him. Read Luke fifteen.”

That sounded familiar. “Is that the Prodigal Son?”

Jenna grinned. “Got it in one.”

I just nodded. I’d read it. Mostly I felt sorry for the older son. How was it fair for the ones who’d been faithful for God to welcome back the ones like me who fell away and then wanted to come back? Why would He want me back?

Jenna stood. “You should read it again, anyway. It’s a good one. I’m going to get ready for bed. Choose whichever side you want.”

She was halfway to the bathroom when she turned back. “Do you want to come to my dress appointment tomorrow?”

“Oh. I think Tristan and I are going to play tourist.” That was the plan, wasn’t it?

“Right. Much more fun.” Jenna turned and headed into the bathroom, then closed the door firmly behind her.

I eyed the bed and, after a moment of thought, crawled in on the side farthest from the bathroom. I plugged in my phone, then before I could talk myself out of it, opened a web browser and put in Luke fifteen. It didn’t start out with the family story. First there was a lost sheep. Then lost coins. Finally, the lost son.

Lost.

The word implied that the thing in question was wanted. No one said they lost something unless they were sad about it and wanted it back. That was definitely the theme in the chapter, too. We were lost and God wanted us back. Because He loved us? Me?

I couldn’t really see in the overall scheme of things why I’d matter to Him.

I’d come from a home that defined broken. Tristan and his family had rescued me from that. They’d dragged me to church any time the doors were open. At first, I’d gone along because it was better than being at home. Then I’d kept going because something had called to me. When I’d finally broken down and given my heart to Jesus, I’d been counting on everything getting better.

But it hadn’t.

Not really, at least.

I changed, a little, but my home life was still a disaster. Maybe it even got worse, because Dad was definitely not a fan of me being gung-ho about Jesus. And that was when Tristan had thrown out another lifeline. I’d grabbed it with both hands, believing maybe it was God finally fixing everything for me.

For a while it was. And then it wasn’t.

So I’d run.

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