“I can’t believe this is the last church we’re going to see,” I murmured, staring up at the soaring Gothic cathedral. The front was flat-faced, gleaming white, with perfect pointy spikes stabbing into the air. Intricate carvings along the exterior led up to the angel spires sitting atop a gleaming mural of the Virgin Mary bowing before Jesus. Angels gathered around them, some blowing what looked to be trumpets.

Ian pointed up toward it. “Gorgeous. That’s the Coronation of the Virgin, painted by Sano di Pietro. I can’t wait to go inside and see the dome.”

Excitement threaded his voice. We walked up the steps. Three main doors were flung open to welcome sinners. I was getting better at discerning different architecture, appreciating each church’s individual flavor. Some were more intimate and simpler, and others dripped with treasures, as if to tempt onlookers to come visit. My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dark, cool interior.

I gave a tiny gasp. It was like walking into a palace, from the soaring ceiling and black-and-white-striped pillars to the wide aisle leading up to the magnificent altar. The marble floors were adorned with stunning, detailed mosaics in vivid patterns and colors. I looked up, and rows of busts stared down at me, stoic men who I figured were religious leaders. Statues of angels, heavy gold sculptures, and lots of stained glass dazzled my vision. As I tilted my head farther back, the ceiling mirrored a reflection of gold stars bursting from a brilliant blue background. I didn’t know what to study first amid the lavish treasures, but my gaze went straight to Ian.

Joy broke over his face. He stared at the cathedral with a deep hunger that seemed to shimmer from the very depths of his being. Immediately, he bowed his head, his lips whispering in what I deemed a prayer, and my heart squeezed hard in my chest.

With a smile curving his lips, he moved quietly ahead, lost in his own spiritual world I couldn’t share. I stood still at the rear of the church and watched him pause at each of the chapels to make the sign of the cross. He moved farther toward the altar, and I took a few steps back, and in that moment I realized the true distance between us that could never be breached.

He’d never be mine.

I know I was only eighteen, and it wasn’t like I was looking for happy ever after or anything stupid like that. But it was nice to pretend and dream we could have something big together. Being in the cathedral only reminded me his heart already belonged to God.

Mom drifted over, laying a casual hand on my shoulder. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” she whispered.

I ground my teeth together as helpless tears sprung into my eyes. Then gave a jerky nod, keeping my face turned away.