She looks up, eyes curious, maybe a little hopeful. “I think so.”
I lean in just a bit, lowering my voice. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I can wait a whole week to see you again.”
Her smile gets softer, more real. “Well, maybe you won’t have to.”
That hits me in the chest.
We sit there for a beat, both knowing this is just the beginning.
We pull into the church parking lot after lunch, and I kill the engine, not quite ready for this moment to end. Theafternoon light streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything.
“What about tomorrow afternoon?” I ask, trying to lock in our next date.
“Tomorrow’s a no, I have back-to-back meetings with clients.”
“How about Thursday evening?”
“Family thing,” she says, shaking her head.
We go back and forth, every day and time I suggest she has something. I’m starting to think she’s a master of busy schedules.
Finally, I say, “Okay, breakfast Friday morning?”
Her eyes light up. “I can do that.”
When it’s time to say goodbye, I open her car door, feeling that familiar tug at my chest.
“You know, I’m not really fond of these goodbyes,” I admit, my voice low, “but at least I know I get to see you twice this next week.”
She looks up at me, her smile soft but her eyes flicker with a hint of sadness.
“You can always text or call,” she says, trying to sound casual.
“Definitely will,” I promise.
I watch her slide behind the wheel, the sunlight catching the edges of her hair. She takes a deep breath, and I see her face filled with hope. “Bye Gray,”
“Bye Ivy,” I say before closing the door.
As she pulls away, I’m already counting the moments until Isee her again.
I’m back at my place. The quiet presses in around me, heavy and thick. I drop my keys on the counter and lean against the wall, letting out a slow breath.
My mind keeps drifting back to Ivy—her smile when she complimented my worship songs. She didn’t just say it to be nice. There was something real in the way she talked about the music, like it touched something deep inside her.
It’s unexpected, this feeling stirring in me.
A sudden weight lands against my shin. I glance down to see Goliath winding himself around my leg, tail flicking like he’s got opinions about how long I was gone.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, crouching to scratch behind his ears. He purrs like an engine, loud enough to fill the room. When I pull back, he just sits there staring at me—slow blink, head tilted, like he’s silently asking if I’m seriously going to stand here daydreaming about a girl instead of feeding him.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter with a smirk, heading toward the kitchen.
Just as I start to let my thoughts settle, my phone buzzes on the table. Mark from the worship team.
“Hey, have you finalized the lyrics yet? We need to lock them in for the sound check this week.”
A knot tightens in my chest. The deadline’s looming, and honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready. Between this new thing with Ivy and work responsibilities, my mind feels stretched too thin.
