“You were.” He doesn’t stop there. “You are.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see it—whatever he’s about to say is coming from deep inside him. Not rehearsed. Not softened.
“I don’t care who made you believe love had to hurt, or that your ‘yes’ was the only way to keep a man. They were wrong. And they didn’t deserve you.”
I forget to breathe.
His voice drops even lower, rough with conviction. “If a man isn’t strong enough to honor your no, he’s not strong enough to deserve your yes.”
I swallow hard, my eyes stinging.
He leans closer, gaze unwavering. “I would rather wait a lifetime than take something from you that isn’t freely given. Because love—real love—never demands. It protects. It covers. It reflects Christ.”
My heart stutters.
“And Ivy…I want to love you like that.”
A lump rises in my throat, unexpected and sharp.
Gray’s hand moves across the table, palm up. No pressure. Just a silent offer.
I slip my fingers into his, and his grip is warm and sure.
“I know better now,” I say, my voice quieter. “But sometimes I still feel like…if I don’t give enough, I’ll lose everything.”
Gray shakes his head, eyes fierce with something like promise. “Real love doesn’t ask you to shrink yourself, Ivy. It doesn’t make you smaller. It shows up. It honors. It waits.”
I squeeze his hand, and for the first time in a long time, I believe him.
The waitress returns with our food, setting the plates down with a polite smile. The clink of silverware and warmth of fresh breakfast gives the moment a needed breath.
Gray barely waits for her to leave before he digs in, cutting into his pancakes with the kind of enthusiasm that makes me laugh. I dig into mine too, letting the warmth ofthe syrup and strawberries settle me back into the moment.
He picks up his fork, glancing at me as he stabs a piece of egg. “Well,” he says lightly, “that got deep real fast.”
I let out a soft laugh, grateful for the small release of pressure. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is gentle but firm. “I’m glad you told me.”
We eat in silence for a few moments, the kind of silence that doesn’t ask to be filled. And then Gray sets his fork down and leans back, studying me in that quiet, intentional way he always does when he’s about to say something that matters.
He drags his fingers along the rim of his mug, then looks up, eyes steady on mine. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod, suddenly aware of the way my heart starts to race.
Gray leans in, resting his elbows on the table, eyes never leaving mine. “Where do you see this going?”
My mind blanks.
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Not because I don’t want to—but because I do. So badly. And that terrifies me.
Where do I see this going?
With him? I see everything. A life. A future. A love that doesn’t vanish when things get hard.
But I don’t say that.
“Umm…” I fumble, cheeks flushing. “I...I don’t know.”
