“Yes.”
The minutes passed, and she wrapped his arm around her tighter. “What about asking Sam to come stay?”
She felt his nod. “It’d be good to see him.”
“Where is he with his journey to finding God?”
Dan’s chest inflated then sank. “Last we talked he’s still on the journey.”
“I really thought that your missions trip with him to the Philippines had helped.”
“I did too. But I think he’s not wanting to have things packaged up nicely for him, he wants to find it for himself.”
“We’ll keep praying then.”
“Amen.”
It was nice to feel like they were back to being them. Comfortable, at ease. Their fish-burning kiss in the kitchen was the first time of real passion in nearly two weeks. Funny how honesty and passion could bring something good. She hoped the rest of the things that needed to be said would lead to a similar result.
She shifted on the lounge. “Have you heard anything more from your agent?”
“I haven’t checked my phone yet.”
Her chest tightened. Neither had she. This time of peace was exactly what she needed. No stress. No obligations. No decisions—apart from what to eat each day. The bigger questions that faced them—Dan’s future playing contracts, her potential travels with Heartsong, hearing their blood test results, telling their friends and fans about the miscarriages—had been shelved for the moment. Allowing this sense of… peace.
“We should probably do that soon,” he murmured.
“Do what?” she asked sleepily.
“Check our phones. Deal with the real world.”
“I don’t want to,” she admitted.
“Neither do I.”
She slipped her hand under his shirt, her fingers traveling to the smooth skin just above his heart. “Besides, this feels pretty real to me.”
He glanced down at her, eyes dark, heated. “In that case...”
“Ready?”
Dan wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure about this?”
Nope. But apparently adulting meant interacting with the wider world, much as she’d prefer to stay in this cocoon of love. Last night had seen more stirring of that heat in the kitchen. “After three.” Sarah braced, holding her phone in her hand. “One, two, three.”
She pressed the power button, and it zipped to life with scores of notifications. Her heart sank, and she scrolled through the emails, deleting the ones that didn’t require a response. Sure enough, there were some from Heartsong, and a couple from Dr. McKinnon. She left those to deal with later, and quickly scanned her social media comments. She should probably follow the advice of some of the other Heartsong peeps and employ a VA, an assistant she could deal with virtually, to reply to her social media. She’d always resisted, as that felt a little inauthentic. But right now, she realized she had little emotional capacity to reply in a genuine way. So she simply hearted some of them, replied with a “thanks” for others, and “God bless you” for others.
She closed the app. Glanced at Dan. He was frowning at his phone. “What’s wrong?”
He peeked up. “My agent wants a meeting.”
“By phone or online?”
“He’s suggesting in person. He’s in Toronto tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
He winced. “This is what happens when I don’t check my phone.”
