I frowned. A lot to figure out? What was that supposed to mean? The scenario I’d imagined wasn’t complicated. I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and she said yes or no. What else was there to talk about?
As I drove to Rome’s place, rain pelting the windshield of the TRX, I once again found myself pleading with God. Pleading that Harley would take me back. Pleading that I would be able to provide for us. Pleading that I could carry the responsibility that came with being her protector and that of our kids, if we’d ever have any.
Then I was at the gate to Rome’s neighborhood. The guards had apparently been notified, because they let me inside without asking questions. My heart jackhammered when I parked in Rome’s drive, even more when I walked up the illuminated marble steps leading through the jungle to the main door of the massive three-story building. I’d finally get to see the woman I loved.
Just as I reached the door, it opened.
My breath stalled.
Harley.
Chapter 31
Harley
I stared at the man standing outside Rome’s mansion, my brain trying to catch up with what I saw. Water dripped from the jungle canopy into the bushes framing the illuminated marble steps. The smell of wet dirt and wood clung to the humid evening air.
He worejeans. Kingsley wore jeans and sneakers and a T-shirt and a ball cap. And his hair! Goodness, had he shaved off the loose curls I’d loved so much to dig my fingers into?
He shoved his hands into the pockets. “Hey—”
I flung myself at him. His strong arms coiled around me without missing a beat. He pulled me tightly against him, and for a long moment we just stood there, clinging to each other under the jungle’s dripping foliage. The warmth radiating off his body cocooned me like a blanket, his familiar scent balm for my soul. Oh, how I’d longed for this moment.
“You cut your hair,” I finally mumbled, my voice thick with emotion.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He said nothing for a long moment. Then his chest heaved with a sigh. “Hoped fewer people would recognize me.”
Oh. I pulled back so I could look at him. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the habit. What . . . What happened?” I held up a hand. “Wait. Let’s go inside.”
We headed into the living room and sat on one of the leather sofas, three feet between us. As much as I wanted to hug him again and never let him go, we had a lot to talk about. The fire Rome had made earlier was now a pile of embers. The room was so expansive, the ceilings so high, that it hardly contained the heat.
My palms grew sweaty, and I rubbed them on my khaki skirt. Kingsley’s timing was ironic, because I’d been on my way out the door to find him and tell him everything. “I heard you got expelled from Saint James. Is that true?”
He clenched and unclenched his hand. “Father Cruz and I both prayed about it. Both of us got the same answer—that my time at Saint James is up.”
“I’m so sorry, Kingsley,” I whispered, my heart breaking for him anew. The life at Saint James had meant so much to him. Despite the burning desire to hold his hand, I didn’t. Feeling his touch made it impossible to focus, and I needed to have my wits about me for what was about to come. “I can’t help but feel guilty. I—”
“We talked about this, Sweetheart.” His tone was gentle yet firm. “I made my own choices and have to deal with whatever the consequences are.” He gave me a tortured smile. “Keaton reminded me that I’m not powerful enough to screw up God’s plan for my life, and he’s right.”
I nodded. “Yes, he is. How has life been since? And where do you live?”
“I’m staying with Keaton and Layne until I find a job. Applied at a couple of landscaping companies.” He pulled at his charcoal T-shirt. “Until then I’m wearing my brother’s clothes.”
“They look good on you.” I bit my lower lip, taking in the way the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders and solid chest. “Like,reallygood.”
Kingsley cleared his throat. “How have you been?”
My heart stuttered. The innocent question shouldn’t have caught me off guard, but it did. Before I could dump my news on him, I needed to know something else. “Do you still struggle with lust?”
“I, uh . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sometimes images of what we did come up. Not as frequently as they used to, though. And I usually manage to shut them down quickly. I’ve been working hard on doing better and leaning on God’s strength.”
I smiled. “That’s good. It’s a tough battle.”
“It is. What about you?”
