Page 27 of Sugar
I sigh. “Works for me.”
“Good.” The pastor nods, shutting his notebook with a thud and setting it down on the desk. “I look forward to seeing youboth back here.” He gives us a final look before rising to his feet, a clear dismissal.
I stand. “Thank you, sir,” I say, reaching for his hand. He’s hesitant, but takes it. His skin is rough and dry, and I realize how clammy mine is in comparison.
“I want to be clear,” he says, “that the successful completion of these counseling sessions does not signify a guarantee of my participation in officiating anything. You can of course choose to marry in any venue with any officiant that so pleases you, but in this church, I take the sanctity of a union like this very seriously.”
“We understand,” I concede.
“Trust me,” Ava chimes in, wrapping her arms around me. “A few hours with us and you’ll understand how deep and sacred our love is.”
“I certainly hope so.” Pastor Brown stuffs his hands into his pockets. He nods toward the closed door of his office. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“That wasn’t so bad,”Ava remarks as we walk through the church’s double-doors and out into the piercing sunlight. I have to squint my eyes to keep them from watering.
“I don’t know if this is gonna work.”
She sighs. “I mean, I get that he’s not falling over himself to marry us, but he didn’t shut us down either. We can get through two more meetings.”
I can’t help but snort. “Counselingsessions, Ava,” I say. “I don’t even know how to wrap my mind around that.”
“Don’t worry,” she assures me. “We just have to play our parts. It’s easier, I think, than if this was actually real.”
I look at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “It’s not like we’re placing much stock in his judgement. What if we really loved each other and he decided it wasn’t good enough? I mean, to hell with him, honestly. But it’s not like we’re going to get our feelings hurt. We know how to win this. It’s you and me.”
I swallow, focusing back on my truck across the lot. “If you say so.”
I open the car door for her, watching as she folds herself into the passenger seat. She’s wearing a dress again. This one’s lavender and much more like the ones she used to wear. I’m sure it was a strategic choice for church, but it claws at me all the same.
It’s you and me.
I shut the door a little too hard, shooting her an apologetic smile through the window before heading toward the back of my truck. I steal a quick glance at the shape of her head through the window before bending down, pretending to inspect the hitch while I take a few deep breaths. This shit is only just beginning and I already feel like it’s too much—being in that church with her, talking about marriage. I mean, hell, her father’s the goddamn sheriff. What happens if he learns about that night at Rustler’s Ranch, about the lives lost in that barn? This is allwaytoo close for comfort.
The blood of those dead cops might not be on my hands, but my hands are bloody all the same. And at this point I’m complicit in a cover-up. Marrying Ava might be the only path I have to protect the ranch, but the risk is greater than she realizes. Whether I like it or not, her father is going to soon learn about our plans. He’s going to push back against it, might even try digging for skeletons.
If they come after me, will they come after her now too?
“Everything okay?” I hear her ask from the front of the truck. I stand, finding that she’s cracked her door open to peer at me.
“Yep,” I answer, rolling my still-sore shoulder before heading for the driver’s side. She shuts her door again as I open mine. “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”
“No problem,” she says, unzipping her purse. She pulls down the visor and looks at herself through the small mirror, swiping that dark-tinted lip shit across her bottom lip. Is it lipstick or lip gloss? Fuck if I know.
I force myself to look away, to start the engine and release the parking brake. “I gotta get back to the ranch,” I say, eager to move on with my day. “Where should I take you? Home?”
“I’ll go with you.”
Shifting the truck into reverse, I grip the back of her headrest to twist and look out the rear window, slowly pulling out of the parking space. “Why would you do that?” I’m almost hesitant to ask.
“I don’t have anything else to do today. I can help.”
I look at her before shifting into drive. “Help?”
“Yeah. With the horses? Or . . . whatever you need help with.”
“I don’t need help.”
