A Good Book (Sunday Morning, #3)

by Jewel E. Ann

“I’ll never be him,” I said, closing the Bible and setting it next to the stack of folders and notepads from school. She signed, “No. You’re not him. You’re more.” “I don’t know, Gabbs.” I laughed, staring at the Bible. “There’s a lot of him in there. Years of him. I don’t know if there’s room for anyone to be more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with loving you more. That would make your Grandma Bonnie so happy. But I can’t help but see him inked in the margins of your whole world and not feel like there’s no room for me.” She reached for my face, and I shook my head. “It’s fine, Gabby. You don’t have to make me feel better. I don’t know if you can. I’m just working on accepting it. Ya know? We’ll be fine. We’ll have a good life. We’ll laugh like we’ve always done. We’ll be there for each other. Raise a family and all that comes with that. I’m just …” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I guess I’m still young and stupid, and I want to be the muse for all your poems. I selfishly want my name to be in the margins of your books. But I’m not, and that’s fine. I’ll grow up and focus on more important things like our baby. But right now, I’m struggling to be the man you need instead of the boyfriend you didn’t want.” She flinched, and that wasn’t my intention. In fact, it wasn’t my intention to tell her that I looked inside her Bible. But she caught me, and I couldn’t lie. Before her tears escaped, she blotted the corners of her eyes while squeezing between my legs and her desk, ...