Page 34 of Giving In

When mom bursts into my room on Sunday morning, wearing her Sunday outfit, she walks all the way to my bed.

“Sweetie, I let Saturday go because you went to a party, and the shop wasn’t busy, but I won’t let you skip Church. Hangovers aren’t meant to last two days. Come on, get up.”

Yesterday, I found the stupid hangover excuse to avoid going to work. She wasn’t happy but it was better than to say I didn’t want to get out of the house by fear of bumping into Jake or any of his friends. Emily called and texted, but I don’t have the strength to take that either.

I squint my eyes when my mom opens the curtains. “Mooom!” I whine as she sits on my bed.

“I’m taking you out for lunch after Church. Wear something nice, Pastor Gilligan is doing our service today. You know how he is,” she rolls her eyes. Really, she loves him.

I sit up in a sudden movement. “Oooh Pastor Gilligan,” I wiggle my eyebrows, teasing her. These two have always gotten along. Since dad passed away, he’s been helping mom with everything. I know she likes him more than friends, but she would never admit that to herself. She doesn’t want to do this to my dad. I’m sure she will move on, in her own time.

“Get ready please,” she sighs at my silliness.

She leaves my room and I start looking for a dress in my wardrobe. I find a floral dress tight around my bust but that flows from my waist to just above my knees. That’s church-y enough. There are still scratches on my knees from Friday night and I shiver at the memory. When I’m done getting ready, I shoot a text to Emily:

Jamie:Can I call you after Church?

Emily:Thanks for letting me know you’re alive. You disappeared on me at the party and haven’t picked up your phone since. Thank God your mom knows how to use a phone, unlike you!

I silently thank my mom for keeping Em in touch. I’m about to reply when she sends another text.

Emily:I’m mad btw, in case you hadn’t noticed.

Another beat before I see the three grey dots on the screen again.

Emily:But yeah, call me after Church. Pray well my little angel. [praying emoji] [angel emoji]

My heart drops when I read her last word and Jake’s voice rings in my ears. I grab my handbag and put my phone in it before hurrying out of the house, joining mom in our old red truck.

Mom parks in front of the Church and waves at her friend in the courtyard.

“I need to discuss something with Tricia. Can you bring the potato salad inside, sweetie?”

I nod. “I’ll see you inside.”

She hops out of the car and I take my time getting the salad for the get together after mass. We don’t often stay but mom always brings something. She’s very attached to this Church, it’s the one where she got married. It’s where we used to come every Sunday as a family.

I open the truck door, put my bag on my shoulder and grab the salad from my lap. My hands still feel terribly cold and I shudder despite the sun shining and the clement temperature.

As I get out with one bowl of potato salad, I realize there’s another one on the middle seat.Really mom? Two bowls? We’re not even having lunch here.

I hug the first bowl against my left hip and grab the other one with my right hand. I take a step back and go to close the car door with my hip but my bag falls from my shoulder and I almost drop the bowl in my right hand.

“Damn it!”

“You might want to keep the blasphemy down,” says a voice behind me.

I turn around and raise my eyebrows at the man in front of me as he continues talking in a whisper. “I’ll let you in on the secret, that, right there,” he points his thumb at the Church, “it’s a Church.”

I chuckle and take a few seconds to take him in. He’s taller than me, my eyes level with his chest. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the two top buttons opened and I can see tattoos creeping up. I can imagine his chest covered in them.

I look up to his face and get struck by the deep blue eyes. They are framed by thick, square, black glasses with a rounder edge at the bottom.

He has dirty blond hair pulled back and into a tight bun at the back of his head. A strand has escaped and is resting against his square jaw. He has a light, dark blond stubble spread on his cheeks and jaw. His plumped lips are in a small smile and he suddenly flashes me a gorgeous smile straight out of a Hollywood film.

He looks like Thor.My stupid brain giggles.

Only in a leaner way, more like a professional boxer rather than a big guy. The mix of the smart glasses, the haircut, the elegant suit, the tattoos and the strong physique are so opposite but somehow work perfectly on him, giving him a smart, leader vibe.

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