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“Maybe next time,” he said after a moment, his expression unreadable.

Taylor nodded, swallowing her disappointment. She hadn’t expected him to say yes, not really. But something in her had hoped he did. “Okay. No pressure.”

Brooks walked her to the door, pulling her into his arms for one last kiss before letting her go. “You coming back to me?”

“Maybe,” she teased, grabbing her purse. “If you’re lucky.”

His low chuckle followed her out the door.

∞∞∞

Greater Praise Missionary Church stood proud against the clear blue sky, its white columns gleaming in the late morning sun. Taylor made her way up the familiar steps, nodding and smiling at faces she’d known her entire life. She was cutting it close, arriving just fifteen minutes before service was set to begin. She knew her mother was going to have something to say. She’d been living on the edge. Not as heavy in church, sinning, but healing. She was trying.

Inside, the sanctuary hummed with pre-serviceenergy, the choir warming up, ushers directing people to seats, old friends greeting each other with hugs and laughter. Taylor slipped into her usual pew about in the front, grateful she’d made it in time and that she’d beat her mother to their seats.

Mrs. Versey, her sixth-grade English teacher, settled in beside her, patting her hand affectionately. Not only was she her teacher, but Mrs. Versey was also her mother’s very best friend.

“It’s good to see you, Taylor,” the older woman said warmly. “Feels like it’s been a minute.”

Taylor smiled, guilt pricking at her conscience. She had been attending less regularly these past few months, caught up in the whirlwind of her divorce, her job, and her evolving relationship with Brooks.

“Good to see you too, Mrs. Versey. How’s Mr. Versey doing? I’ve been praying for him”

They fell into easy conversation, Taylor genuinely interested in catching up with the woman who’d been a fixture in her life. When the first notes of the organ sounded, signaling the start of service, Mrs. Versey squeezed her hand one last time before turning her attention to the front.

Her father took the pulpit, his booming voice filling the sanctuary as he welcomed everyone to worship. Her mother came and took a seat in the front right next to Taylor.

“Glad you could make it honey. Your daddy gon show out today.”

Taylor laughed because he had been on her list of people to avoid but she missed him a little.

“I bet he will, watch he change his sermon to be about me or something,” she whispered. Taylor letthe familiar rhythm of the service wash over her, the prayers, scripture readings, and hymns that she knew by heart. She was comforted by the routine and the community, knowing that no matter what else changed in her life, this remained constant.

The choir had just finished their second selection of “We’re Blessed” by Fred Hammond, when Taylor noticed a ripple of movement at the back of the church. Her eyes automatically drifted toward the disturbance, and her heart nearly stopped.

Brooks. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a charcoal gray suit that made her mouth water. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching, until they landed on her. He should have known his church girl would be in the front.

The small, almost shy smile that curved his lips made her smile. She was so happy to see him.

He nodded to an usher, who led him down the aisle and to Taylor’s simultaneous mortification and delight directed him to the empty spot right beside her and her mother in the pew.

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” he said with a respectful nod to her mother. Taylor was stuck staring at him. Mrs. Versey’s eyebrows shot up as Brooks slid in next to Taylor, his thigh pressing against hers in the cramped space. He nodded politely to the older woman before resting his arm on the back of the pew leaning in close to Taylor’s ear.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

Taylor could barely find her voice. “Bae, what are you doing here?”

His expression turned serious, those dark eyesholding hers. “You invited me, remember?”

“But you said...”

“I know. I changed my mind.” He shifted, settling into the pew. “This matters to you. So, I’m willing to try.”

Him stepping into her world for a moment, made tears prick at the corners of her eyes as the weight of his gesture sank in. He’d spent years distancing himself from church after his mother’s death, it was still a soft spot for him, but he was deciding he needed to heal and stop making excuses.

“Thank you,” she whispered resting her head on his shoulder. She was fighting the urge to climb in his lap and kiss him. Him sitting here beside her, in her father’s church, because he understood that her faith wasn’t separate from who she was would solidify her coming back to him as he asked this morning.

“You my woman right?”