We’d been texting off and on all week. Little things here and there, nothing too deep.
How’s your day?
What are you working on?
Drinking coffee and thinking of you.
Simple. Easy. Sweet in a way that left me smiling at my phone like an idiot more times than I cared to admit.
Now, my phone sits on the counter next to me, the screen still lit up from the last message he sent just a few minutes ago:
Gray
I can’t wait to see you today, Ivy.
I trace my thumb lightly over the screen, feeling my heart flutter in a way I haven’t let myself feel in a long time.
I blow out a breath and turn back to my closet, glaring at the rack of clothes like they personally offended me.
“What does one even wear to church when they’re not trying to look like they have it all together but also don’t want to appear that they are falling apart?” I mumble to myself.
Not too casual.
Not too polished.
Something in between.
Because the truth is, I don’t. But for some reason, that doesn’t scare me as much as it used to.
Maybe it’s him.
Maybe it’s something bigger.
Either way, I know one thing for sure: I’m not the same girl I was a few months ago.
And somehow, I have a feeling today is going to change me even more.
I pulled into the lot a full forty-five minutes early. New Chapter’s only a ten-minute drive from my place, but with Dallas traffic, you never really know—and I’d rather be the awkwardly early girl than the one slipping in late.
The lot was still mostly empty, the morning sun just starting to warm the crisp June air. I could’ve gone in right away, but nerves pinned me to my seat. I didn’t want to be the first one. Didn’t want to stand there awkwardly, not knowing where to go or what to do.
So, I sat.
I scrolled through my phone, checked my lip gloss in the mirror, tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. Anything to pass the time without completely talking myself out of walking inside.
A few more cars trickled in.
Then a small white sedan pulls into the spot next to mine, and I watched as a woman about my age slipped out. She smooths down her skirt, adjusts her purse strap, and heads toward the entrance alone.
Without letting myself overthink it, I grab my bag, climb out of my car, and follow her. Not too close, just enough to mimic her movements like a shadow.
As I approach the main doors, a man with a kind smileand a lanyard around his neck catches sight of us and pulls one open.
“Good morning!” he greets, his voice warm and genuine.
I murmur a soft “Thank you,” and step inside.
The bright scent of citrus and a trace of clean floors lingers in the air, as if the whole place was scrubbed and polished just for today. Light streams in through huge windows, and soft background piano music plays overhead. People mill around, chatting and laughing in small groups, their smiles easy and unforced.
