Page 78 of The Friend Game

“He would disappear sometimes for a couple of days at a time, which was weird. And he never took me to his house. It was always my apartment or his office or restaurants justoutside the city. I was so stupid,” I repeat as regurgitating all of this reminds me yet again of all the signs I missed. Shame is coursing through me. My body is practically vibrating from it. But I’m almost done. I just need to get it out.

“Then one day a woman showed up to my apartment.” I fight to keep the warble out of my voice and fail. “She told me that…that…she…” A sob is building in my chest and there’s a ringing in my ears. I don’t want to say the words. But I have to. “She was Marshall’s fiance´e. I’d been dating an engaged man with a live-in fiance´e for six months—” I break off crying in earnest now. I’m going to have to redo my makeup, that’s for sure.

Luke still hasn’t said anything. He must think I’m so horrible.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” I rush out through my tears, “but..I was scared and so ashamed of it. I mean, I broke up with him right away after that, obviously. But the fallout was huge. He was so upset with me. Called me self-righteous and told me to get off my high horse. Engaged isn’t married, he kept saying, like I was somehow overreacting to finding out he had a fiance´e. Then he started going on about all of the strings he’d pulled to get my work noticed and berating me for not appreciating that. He started badmouthing me around the art scene. Within a few days my career had gone up in flames. There was this scene at a bigart show, where he showed up and demanded I take my elementary attempts at art and leave.” I shudder at the memory. “I basically had no choice but to move back to Tucson. I needed a fresh start in more ways than one.”

More silence. The deafening kind. The ringing in my ears has gotten louder. Really obnoxiously loud, actually—wait, no that’s not coming from my brain, it’s my phone. Luke is trying to FaceTime me!

I fumble around, trying to wipe dried mascara (not so waterproof after all) off my cheeks before answering, but not wanting the call to ring too long and click off.

Finally I hit accept. Incidentally even without black streaks across my cheeks, I don’t look great. Unlike Luke, who—first thing in the morning—just so happens to look exactly like the man I picture waking up next to someday.

Unfortunately I’m sure he’s never imagined waking up next to a woman in tears. Nobody wants that.

I mean, I suppose if they were rapturous tears that might be okay.

But enough about my imaginary life as Luke’s wife.

“I’m sorry,” I blubber because that’s all I can really think to say.

“Hannah,” Luke’s voice is soft but firm, “thank you for telling me about such a sensitive part of your past. For trusting me enough to do so. I’m just honored that you felt safe enough to share that with me.”

Okay. What? Those are all really nice words. Not at all what I was expecting.

“You did hear me, right?” I ask. “I dated a man who was engaged to be married, Luke. Married. I was practically a mistress!”

“I heard you,” he replies. “And it sounded to me like you made some mistakes, maybe missed some signs, but that at the end of the day, this Marshall person,” his lip curls in disgust around the name, “was largely to blame.”

“Well,” I flounder. “Maybe. But still, if this information came out…if people knew…they might not take the time to hear my side of the story. And I don’t want to be the source of some huge scandal in your pastoral career.”

“You know you’re awfully concerned about making me look bad. You do know that pastors aren’t perfect, right?”

“You look pretty perfect from where I’m standing,” I grumble.

“Maybe it’s my turn to be honest with you then,” he says, vulnerability shadowing his handsome features. This stills my spirit.

“Oh?” I breathe. “Honest about what?”

You’re not the only one with shameful things in their past,” he tells me. “In fact, there’s something I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you too. I was planning on waiting until after tonight’s meeting because I didn’t want to add to your stress levels, but now that you’ve been so open with me I think it’s better I tell you now. If that’s okay with you?” he adds. “Again, I know you need to stay focused for this meeting, so I can wait if you want.”

“Um, I think now works,” I say, trying to hide my next level curiosity. I’m not proud of the fact that I’m desperate to know what the heck Luke could possibly have done in his past that has him looking so nervous. “Unless of course you’re going to tell me you stole a candy bar when you were seven or, I don’t know, used to have a jaywalking problem. Because those do not qualify as shameful things.”

Luke laughs weakly. “Uh, no. It’s neither of those. Although, over the years I’ve learned that however big or small the sin seems in our own eyes, God always desires our repentance. His grace may be a free gift, but we still have to accept it.”

Tears spark my eyes again, as the truth of his words hug my soul. How often have I refused His grace, deeming myself unforgivable?

All. The. Time.

How different would my life be if instead I received the gift and allowed it to transform me as God intended?

“Often easier said than done,” Luke adds ruefully. “I know it took me years to fully accept His forgiveness, and shame still tries to rear its ugly head from time to time.” He sucks in a breath. “Most recently with you, as I realized that if I wanted things to truly develop between us, I was going to have to tell you about my past. Sorry,” he hangs his head sheepishly, “I’m really building up the intrigue here. Mostly because I’m nervous.” He blows out a breath.

“Luke, unless you’re about to tell me you killed someone, I think we’ll be fine.”

He lets out a strangled laugh. “That’s an awfully low bar, Hannah, but thankfully I meet it. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Well, there you go. That’s good. Should I keep guessing? You know my imagination has already been busy concocting all sorts of crazy things.”

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