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“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not very hungry but thank you.” She moves toward the door.

I wait a few minutes, hoping she’ll change her mind. When she doesn’t, I wrap the sandwich in a napkin and follow her out the door. She gets in the truck while I lock up. Maybe she’s changed her mind about us. For a brief moment, I consider hauling her back inside and demanding answers.

She’s quiet as I slide into the cab, setting the sandwich between us on the seat. When I start the engine, she turns away from me, pretending to look out her window.

I shut the truck off.

Sadness rolls off her back in waves as she fights to keep me from hearing her soft sniffles.

I wait and wait. I’m not leaving this driveway until she tells me what’s going on. I don’t want to start a heated conversation while I’m driving. Her safety is my priority.

“Are we leaving … because … of last … night?” she asks. Her sentence comes out fragmented as she hiccups through her sobs.

“Lexie, look at me.”

She shakes her head, denying me. “I knew I should have waited. You must think …” She pauses, inhaling deeply. She’s desperately trying to compose herself. Another deep breath and she finally turns toward me.

I keep my face relaxed, but inside I’m doubling over from the pain I see etched in the lines around her eyes.

“Last night was something I’ve never experienced.” This time her deep breath is fueled with a newfound courage. “It was as if you conjured an invisible field around us with this magical energy. The rest of the world disappeared, and then I woke up and …”

I stretch my arm across the back of the seat, opening my hand to her. She lays her cheek against my palm and sighs. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose the magic,” she whispers.

My thumb brushes over her temple. “I’m glad I make you feel that way, but it wasn’t just me. It was you and I together who created that bubble of safety. Now that we have it, it will stay with us, even when we’re apart. I promise.”

“So, we’re not going home so you can avoid me?” Her brows pull together, and a light clicks on when she realizes how silly that sounds. “Oh.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes again, and her bottom lip quivers.

“It’s okay, Lex. I know it’s going to take a while for you to realize I’m not like the others. You’ve been programmed to believe you’re not worthy of more. I’m not interested in having access to your earthly body if I can’t have your eternal soul. I want you for every mortal minute, and for whatever stretch of time exists after that.”

“I’m going to need you to pinch me,” she says, giving me the smile I’ve been dying to see all morning.

“How about you pinch me?”

She reaches out and places her hand against my cheek. “Let’s do it together.”

Gently, I pinch her cheek, and she does the same to me.

“See, we’re not sleeping. We’re both wide awake,” I assure her.

It’s short-lived. Her fear slowly creeps back in. She lowers her eyes, and her hand falls away. “I’m scared to go back,” she admits.

“I understand. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious when I left treatment. The key for me was staying in the moment and leaning on the people around me who extended a helping hand.”

“Do you think JD and Elizabeth are okay with me staying there?”

I laugh as I start the truck. “That’s one thing I’m one hundred percent sure of. I just hope they don’t expect you to stay too long.”

“I’m going to start looking for my own place as soon as we get back. I have a plan.”

I stop her there. “You’re staying with them until I get our house built.”

Her head snaps my direction. “Our house?”

The way her nose wrinkles in confusion makes me add another vision to my list of dreams. A little girl with curly hair who holds a miniature expression of her momma’s. “How many rooms do you think we’ll need?”

“Rooms?”

“For our kids.”