Sheridan.”
“Thanks.”
When she didn’t return his compliment, he said, “How’s Brock?”
She responded with a small smile.
He said, “Guess that means he’s still rocking your world.”
She thought about her weekend and tried not to grin.
He said, “Can’t say that makes me happy.”
She eyed him as she sipped her coffee.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy,” he continued. “It’s just that it makes me sad that someone else is doing what I did for so many years.”
She put her cup down. “You gave that all up…willingly.”
He nodded. “Still…” His tone was loaded with memories.
“So, how are you and—” She snapped her fingers as if she were trying to remember a name.
His smile left. “We’re no longer together.” He paused, when she said nothing. “I’m surprised you asked me about that. You’ve never seemed…interested in my life before.”
She shrugged, said nothing.
“What made you ask me that now?”
I think Daddy has a new lover . “Just making conversation.”
He smirked. “Are you sure that’s all?”
Sheridan’s eyebrows rose with Quentin’s question. Years ago when Quentin told her that he was leaving their marriage for Jett Jennings, she’d been driven to the edge of madness. She’d wallowed in hours of wonder, imagining her husband with his man, envisioning their details—the what, when, where—of Quentin and Jett together. Her mind stalked her, hunting, haunting, never letting go.
Then she’d met Brock Goodman and he’d slain her stalker.
“So are you sure there’s nothing more to your question?” Quentin asked. “Maybe you were thinking about me, about us?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d met anyone new.”
“Ah ha. You do care.”
“Of course I care. But I was just making conversation.”
“Conversation?” He leaned closer to her. “Is that what you call it?”
She chuckled. “Look, Quentin, it’s true, I care about you. You’re my children’s father. But anything else…”
“Then why are you here?” he whispered.
She looked around. “Here? At Starbucks?”
“Sitting with me at Starbucks.”
She laughed. “What kind of game are you playing?”
He leaned back, crossed his legs. “Nothing that we haven’t played before.”
She frowned. “Anyway, still under making conversation, are you still attending that church you told me about?”
He shook his head. Turned his eyes away. “I stopped going a while back.” He paused. “A new pastor came in and I didn’t fit in anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are too many people who don’t think you can be gay and a Christian. I’m not trying to hear that. Figured I already had a relationship with God; I don’t need a building or a man to validate that. So until I can find a place where the pastor’s not homophobic, I figure I’ll be a Pillow Pentecostal.”
He laughed, but she didn’t join him. “There’s a lot more to going to church than just hearing what you want. Sometimes we need to be there to hear the things we don’t want to hear.”
His laughter was gone. “Have you ever considered going into the seminary?”
She paused, stared at him for a moment. “What’s happened to you, Quentin?”
“Absolutely nothing. It’s just that I don’t think you have to be in church to have a relationship with God.”
Sheridan squinted, trying to see beyond the words he spoke. Trying to see the man she’d married. The man who loved God and knew the truth of His word.
Quentin looked the same, walked the same, sounded the same. But it was the differences—his words, his thoughts, his life—that worried her.
It had taken a while, but once Sheridan settled into her new life, she’d been praying for Quentin, for his deliverance. But the way he sounded now, it seemed prayers weren’t enough. She had to do something more to help him.
“You know, Quentin…”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta make this move.” He
“Thanks.”
When she didn’t return his compliment, he said, “How’s Brock?”
She responded with a small smile.
He said, “Guess that means he’s still rocking your world.”
She thought about her weekend and tried not to grin.
He said, “Can’t say that makes me happy.”
She eyed him as she sipped her coffee.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy,” he continued. “It’s just that it makes me sad that someone else is doing what I did for so many years.”
She put her cup down. “You gave that all up…willingly.”
He nodded. “Still…” His tone was loaded with memories.
“So, how are you and—” She snapped her fingers as if she were trying to remember a name.
His smile left. “We’re no longer together.” He paused, when she said nothing. “I’m surprised you asked me about that. You’ve never seemed…interested in my life before.”
She shrugged, said nothing.
“What made you ask me that now?”
I think Daddy has a new lover . “Just making conversation.”
He smirked. “Are you sure that’s all?”
Sheridan’s eyebrows rose with Quentin’s question. Years ago when Quentin told her that he was leaving their marriage for Jett Jennings, she’d been driven to the edge of madness. She’d wallowed in hours of wonder, imagining her husband with his man, envisioning their details—the what, when, where—of Quentin and Jett together. Her mind stalked her, hunting, haunting, never letting go.
Then she’d met Brock Goodman and he’d slain her stalker.
“So are you sure there’s nothing more to your question?” Quentin asked. “Maybe you were thinking about me, about us?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d met anyone new.”
“Ah ha. You do care.”
“Of course I care. But I was just making conversation.”
“Conversation?” He leaned closer to her. “Is that what you call it?”
She chuckled. “Look, Quentin, it’s true, I care about you. You’re my children’s father. But anything else…”
“Then why are you here?” he whispered.
She looked around. “Here? At Starbucks?”
“Sitting with me at Starbucks.”
She laughed. “What kind of game are you playing?”
He leaned back, crossed his legs. “Nothing that we haven’t played before.”
She frowned. “Anyway, still under making conversation, are you still attending that church you told me about?”
He shook his head. Turned his eyes away. “I stopped going a while back.” He paused. “A new pastor came in and I didn’t fit in anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are too many people who don’t think you can be gay and a Christian. I’m not trying to hear that. Figured I already had a relationship with God; I don’t need a building or a man to validate that. So until I can find a place where the pastor’s not homophobic, I figure I’ll be a Pillow Pentecostal.”
He laughed, but she didn’t join him. “There’s a lot more to going to church than just hearing what you want. Sometimes we need to be there to hear the things we don’t want to hear.”
His laughter was gone. “Have you ever considered going into the seminary?”
She paused, stared at him for a moment. “What’s happened to you, Quentin?”
“Absolutely nothing. It’s just that I don’t think you have to be in church to have a relationship with God.”
Sheridan squinted, trying to see beyond the words he spoke. Trying to see the man she’d married. The man who loved God and knew the truth of His word.
Quentin looked the same, walked the same, sounded the same. But it was the differences—his words, his thoughts, his life—that worried her.
It had taken a while, but once Sheridan settled into her new life, she’d been praying for Quentin, for his deliverance. But the way he sounded now, it seemed prayers weren’t enough. She had to do something more to help him.
“You know, Quentin…”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta make this move.” He
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