CHAPTER SEVEN
I sit in my house.
Mid-morning coffee in my hand.
Decision made.
As of last night Celebration Station is catering my party.
After assuring me she understood why I made my decision, Sonya sent the money through Paypal. I drove to Celebration Station, left the check, signed the contract, then wanted to throw up.
But in the hours that have passed since then, I have confirmed that this was a total business decision. I have an obligation to serve the people at the party dinner. I have an obligation to make sure the food is edible.
Business decisions are hard to make. They can’t be made with the heart.
They have to be made with a sound mind. And I truly feel that’s what has taken place.
A solid business decision. After all the party is tomorrow night. I was lucky to find a caterer with an opening.
Surely Grant will understand.
There’s a knock on my door. I set my coffee on the end table, then walk to the door.
The peephole says it’s Grant.
I know he knows I’m here. My car is parked out front. Since I don’t have my blinds pulled, he probably saw me sitting on the couch.
I open the door, not surprised that my hand is trembling “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Come on in.” I open the door wide enough for him to enter. Then shut it behind him.
“Thanks. I don’t want to keep you long. I wanted to tell you I spent last night at the homeless shelter. Mason is doing a great job with the men. Good things are happening. I felt good being there. Like I was making a difference.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you went back. The men seemed to like you a lot when we were there.” Maybe this is all he wants to talk about. I know I’ll have to tell him about my catering decision soon, but any reprieve is a good reprieve.
Because I’m a chicken.
“Yeah. A couple of the guys were talking with me again today. And as much as I think I was making a difference with them, I feel like they are making a difference in me. Being there gives me a new perspective on life.”
“Do you want to sit?” I point to the couch. The white couch with the yellow pillows that shouts to the world I’m single and childless. But I like it. And I’d like to be comfortably sitting down when I tell him the news.
Besides, my legs are starting to shake. My heart is starting to beat faster.
“No. I’m actually on my way back to the shelter. I told Mason I’d help out today. I wanted to go earlier and see how things run. I think Mason puts in a lot of hours. And that Thomas guy is something else. He wants us to team up and make a meal for everyone one night.”
“That’s great.”
Grant has a different look about him. His stance is more relaxed, as if his burden has been lifted. His eyes are softer looking. Even his tone when he speaks indicates a change.
A change that might have been fueled further with my trust.
My throat is dry and thick with the decision I’ve made. My gut rolls at my lack of faith. I completely pushed Sonya’s words about Grant needing me to the back of my mind when making my catering decision.
I didn’t think about God or faith or anything but me.
Sometimes faith is more than trusting things will turn out right. Sometimes faith is giving someone hope. Telling them they’re needed.
Knowing there’s a bigger picture than the outcome in front of you.
If only he’d shown up last night.
I swallow hard, trying to gain the courage to tell him. Although he’s a smart man. If I haven’t told him yes by now, he’s got to know it’s a no.
Right?
I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.
“Hey, I need to go.” Leaning down, he softly brushes my lips with his. “And good luck tomorrow night. I know everything will turn out great and your business will launch like a rocket.”
I bite my just kissed lip and blink back tears. He knows.
He knows I didn’t choose him.
He knows I didn’t trust him with the biggest part of my life.
He knows, and he still kissed me.
I close my eyes, letting the tears fall.
When I open them he’s gone. I knew he would be. The problem is he took a part of my heart with him. The part that makes mine beat.
The part that loves him.