“The short of it is that I finally got it. The long of it is, well, long, and”—he shrugged—“I don’t know. It just sort of all came together.” He spread his hands and shrugged again. “And here I am.”

“Here you are, all right,” I murmured, the drained juice glass still in my hand. I resisted the urge to say, “So now what? Busy Friday?” I was determined not to be the one to make the first move. And why was I even thinking about moves? The man had just committed his life to God, and I was busy planning dates. Get your priorities straight, girl. “So who else knows?” I asked, leading myself away from the slippery slope forming in my head.

“No one,” he replied. “I haven’t talked to anyone. I came straight here. I need to call Greg. And Kate, apparently, although I don’t know what I’m going to tell her.” A shadow crossed his face, and I wondered if he’d thought at all about the ramifications of one of Hollywood’s leading personalities claiming Christianity. Even though I’d prayed for it for so long, I’d never once thought to pray for the way he would handle the fallout. I launched an arrow prayer as he continued. “Did Kate say why she was calling? Or Greg?”

I shook my head slowly; the throbbing ache had momentarily passed with the news of Jack’s conversion, but was now coming back with a vengeance. “Honestly, I don’t remember much of either conversation; I was so out of it. But I don’t think either of them said anything specific, other than to have you call. They were both pretty concerned about not having heard from you, and not being able to find you.”

Jack nodded slowly and stared at me, and I found myself staring back, and feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed. I looked awful, I was sure. And I was beginning to remember all the very unchristianlike things we had done while we’d been together, and I felt found out, exposed as a hypocrite, and very afraid to talk to him about anything remotely close to the subject of us.

And that’s when Missy decided to make her exit.

“You sure?” I implored with what I hoped was a convincing nonchalance. “Did you have enough to eat?” My mind raced, looking for reasons to convince her to stay, but the look on her face told me she’d have none of it. Missy was no fool; she knew there were things we needed to discuss that wouldn’t come up while she was there, and in her ever-so-thoughtful manner she was getting out of the way. Little did she know how much I dreaded them.