Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure Jason. “You weren’t that rude. Maybe harping on love non-stop was a little over the top, but that’s the only way someone like her would get it.”
He shoots me a wry look.
“Yeah, but she didn’t get it. She never gets it.”
Unfortunately, his words are true and I nod in assent. Then, I glance over at Mira, and oddly, she seems to be listening to our conversation. She’s talking with some other ladies in a circle, but her form is oddly still, like she’s hearing us and not them. I motion to Jason, but he doesn’t catch on.
“I just hope we don’t get asked about this story again for at least a couple of months. If I have to talk about Jacob and his wives all the time, I don’t know. We may have the shut this whole operation down. No more sermons about this topic because clearly, it’s way too much.”
Jason is on a rant, which is inappropriate, seeing that we’re still at coffee hour. Damn, Annie has gotten to him a little more than usual, which is understandable given where our minds are currently at. Still, it’s hard when you feel like someone is attacking your way of life even if they don’t realize it. A conversation goes from being totally theoretical to actually punching you in the gut, especially when we’re already so conflicted about it ourselves. I mean, I love the women we’re with, and I don’t mind sharing, but I hate having to hide. Does that mean that the lifestyle isn’t for me?
Suddenly, inspiration strikes.
“You know what, I have an idea,” I say while strolling over to Mira. She sees me coming and looks a little panicked. Her friend notices and turns towards me as well, and now they’re both staring at me wide-eyed.
“Mira, how are you?” I greet in a low voice. She manages not to stammer.
“I’m good. Um, doing well.”
“Jessie, how are you?” I greet her friend.
“Great!” she says in a high-pitched voice. “Just amazing!”
I don’t think Mira’s told her friend what’s been going on between us, but I can’t be sure. Given her reaction, she seems surprised that I came over to talk with them at all.
“Well, that’s great. Mira, I was hoping I could ask you something really quick?” I stand there waiting for a few seconds, and Jessie picks up what I’m trying to do, realization sweeping over her face.
“I’m going to go grab another Danish,” she titters before walking away, while throwing glances over one shoulder. Then it’s just Mira and me and she turns my way, working hard to look casual.
“What did you want to ask me?”
“Jason and I want to invite you over to dinner tonight. Are you free?” I’m talking a little faster than normal and my voice is low. After all, I don’t want to risk anyone hearing us.
“Sure, I’m free. I can come. Seven p.m.?”
“Perfect. We’ll send you the address.” I nod casually before walking away, as if we’re nothing more than acquaintances. Jason has been watching us the whole time, and he looks curious as all hell.
“What was that about?” he demands as soon as I’m back in earshot.
“Guess who’s coming to dinner tonight?”
His eyes go wide, and it looks like he might tackle me.
“You did not!” he whisper yells.
“I did.”
“Okay, well, we haven’t cleaned, and what are we going to cook? You’re not exactly a master chef, and we’ll need to pick up groceries. This is so last minute. Fuck. I mean it’s our takeout night, but we can’t feed Mira takeout. That would be beyond rude.”
Jason walks away, shaking his head like it’s the end of the world, but seriously, this guy needs to get a grip. He’s acting like we need to plan a wedding, when really, it’s one woman. We can whip up a couple of somethings and have a lovely meal ready in no time.
Plus, better sooner than later. He and I have been dancing around this talk with Mira for a while now. We need to get this done, and to clarify a whole bunch of stuff in the meantime, or it might never happen. Being stuck in limbo is somewhere I do not want to be.
I get through the rest of our coffee hour, talking to anyone who wants to ask questions as well as engaging in several friendly conversations.
“We’re so lucky to have you,” chortles Mrs. Trenton, a seventy-year-old crone. She pulls her flowery shopping basket tighter to her form. “Most churches in New York City are dying, but not us.”
“Not us,” I agree. “At least not if I have anything to do with it.”
Mrs. Trenton chortles again, bobbing her head up and down, and I smile kindly. Fortunately, we don’t have any more prickly incidents with congregants and soon, people start to file out. Within twenty minutes, it’s just Jason, me, and the volunteers on clean-up. Just because our personal lives are in a bit of a disarray doesn’t mean we can neglect out church.