Page 26 of An Unholy Affair
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think God has a plan for all of us?’
‘I know he does.’
Jack’s mind went back to the bar, and the mistake he made by approaching Eveline. The way her hand felt in his. The way his soul seemed to recognise hers, as if finally finding its way home.
He shook himself. ‘I don’t believe in God.’
‘That’s alright.’ She smiled at him as if nothing he could ever say or do would dent her worldview. ‘God still believes in you.’
Jack forced his gaze from the sunshine of Eveline’s face to the grey clouds on the horizon. Where the fuck was God when his dad was battering him? And if God, fate, or the universe reallydidhave a grand plan for Jack Newton, what on earth was Eveline’s part in it? Was she some kind of test for him to fail?
I need a drink.
‘Jack?’ Her voice was tentative.
‘Hmm?’ He kept his attention on the road as they turned onto the high street.
‘God can never guarantee a life free of pain and suffering. But he loves you.’
Jack resisted the urge to shake his head.Great. Just great.I grew up hating myself. My parents didn’t even seem to like me, but hey! No worries! Some nebulous being on a fluffy fucking cloud has got my back.
They’d nearly reached the rectory, and he still hadn’t asked her a single question about arrangements for his dad. He rubbed his forehead, needing a shot of whisky to take the headache away.
‘You got any spare communion wine knocking about?’ he asked.
‘At home? Would you like some?’
He forced what he hoped was a charming smile. ‘Best hangover cure is always hair of the dog.’
‘I don’t have any alcohol in the house, but I can offer you a couple of paracetamol. Would that do?’ Her gaze was searching. It made him want to hide.
‘Yeah sure, unless you’ve got meths under the sink?’
Her face went white.
‘It’s a joke!’Rein it in. You’re talking to a vicar, not Finn.‘Sorry, ignore me. I was just being a dickhead.’ He sighed. ‘Look, I haven’t asked you anything about the funeral. Could I help with your chores? Maybe ask my questions at the same time?’
He watched the blush of pink across her cheeks as she hesitated. She was sweeter than summer strawberries and, despite how hungover he felt, he wanted to eat her up. Their connection back in London had been the most intense experience of his life. And now, even knowing she was completely untouchable, it kept hitting him again and again.
‘I, er, suppose so,’ she said. ‘Are you okay with pigs and vacuuming?’
‘Together?’
She grinned. ‘I’d like to see you try.’
He stood a little straighter. No matter what she asked of him, he was determined to be the best at it.
‘Whatever you need, I’m your man.’
She stumbled on the cobbled path at the side of the rectory, and he grabbed her around the waist to stop her falling to the ground. For a split second, he felt the rise and fall of her chest against his arm, then let go and stepped back.
‘Sorry—’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m such a clumsy clot. Come into the kitchen.’
The back door was wooden and warped, with peeling paint. Eveline shoved it with her shoulder and it opened with a squeak of protest.
