Goliath stretches out, rolling onto his side like hecouldn’t care less, and I laugh. “Don’t give me that look. You’re the only one who’s heard me talk to the ceiling every night. You know.”
The cat yawns, tucks his paws beneath him, and settles.
I lean back against the headboard, my chest still buzzing, my heart still racing. “She’s worth it, Goliath. Every prayer, every mile of distance, every second of waiting. She’s worth all of it.”
Goliath purrs louder, like maybe he agrees—or maybe he just wants breakfast early. Either way, I can’t stop smiling.
Eight weeks.
Eight weeks of ache. Of trying to be strong. Of letting go when everything in me wanted to hold on tighter. I’ve never fought so hard not to fight for something. But now, standing here in the stillness of my apartment, I finally understand what Jack meant.Patience over pressure. Stillness over striving.
It was worth every quiet night. Every unanswered prayer. Every lonely drive home after church.
Because tonight, she ran to me. She chose me—fully, freely, faithfully.
And more than that…she chose Jesus.
A laugh slips out, quiet and awestruck. I run a hand over my face and shake my head. “Thank You,” I whisper into the dark. “I didn’t deserve any of this. But thank You.”
I slip into bed, tugging the blanket over my chest, the weight of the day finally settling around me like peace. It feels different this year, like maybe this is what Thanksgiving is really about. Thankful for the waiting. Grateful for the second chance. Blessed by the God who makes all things new.
Thursday, I’ll meet her family.
Thursday, I’ll walk into her world—not as the guy she’s dating, but as the man who waited.
And if the moment’s right…
I might just ask her dad for his blessing.
Chapter 38
Gray
The morning air is cold enough to bite, but I don’t care. My palms are warm, fingers wrapped around the to-go cup from our favorite coffee shop, Royal Brew—vanilla oat milk latte. Her favorite. One of two I bought her. Because she drinks the first like it’s air and always wishes she had another halfway through.
I climb the steps to her apartment, heart pounding like I’m picking her up for our first date all over again. It’s ridiculous, but it’s also kind of perfect. I shift the coffee to one hand and ring the doorbell.
The door opens seconds later, and there she is—glowing, and wrapped in a soft maroon sweater dress that makes my thoughts spiral in seventeen different directions.
Her smile is a little shy, like she still can’t believe this is real.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, lifting the coffee. “For you.”
She grins, reaching for it. “You’re the actual best. Thank you.”
“Just wait.”
Shetilts her head. “Wait for what?”
“You’ll see.” I wink, stepping back so she can grab her bag and lock the door behind her. When we get to the car, I open the passenger side and gesture inside.
She gasps, spotting the bouquet resting on the seat — deep fall oranges and creamy whites, wrapped in brown paper and tied with gold twine.
“Gray…” she breathes, touched. “I missed your flowers…”
“Oh, those aren’t for you,” I say, deadpan.
She blinks, confused.
