Threads of Hope: Quilts of Love Series by Christa Allan Page B

York? This must be my night for sabotages
. She knew she couldn’t let being stunned betray her or else Brady might stop talking. As she opened her purse to shut her cell phone off, she said, “Yes, of course,” as if she’d yawned the words out.
    “When Janie first told me about Daisy, and everything going on with her family, it made sense that she’d want to live close. Then, Daisy started wavering about the decision. She didn’t know what to tell Elise she wanted to do about the New York job after all she’d done to get it for her. . . I turn up there, right?” Brady pointed to the street ahead.
    Nina nodded and hoped her composure would last longer than the rest of the drive.
    “Anyway, now Janie’s playing armchair therapist and big sister to Daisy, and she’s neglecting everything else she needs to do to prepare herself for this new position.”
    “You mean neglecting you?”
    Brady slowed the car as he turned into her driveway, then shifted into park. “Janie’s helped me realize something,” he said and looked at Nina.
    She wanted to repeat her eye-roll performance, but his serious expression actually surprised her. Once again, she relied on her airy tone. “And what is that?”
    “I know what it feels like to not be important in someone’s life anymore, especially when that person is someone you thought wouldn’t disappoint you.” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t at all kind to you, Nina, and I hope you can forgive me for being such an idiot.”
    So, this is betrayer and forgiveness night?
Whatever hope she felt by his admission was reined in by suspicion.
What was his agenda here?
“Forgive, yes. Forget, I’m still working on.”
    He leaned toward her, and Nina forced herself to ignore wanting to move closer and wait for him to kiss her. The space between them no longer felt like a force field, but a magnet. But she couldn’t allow herself to be pulled in. At least not tonight. Brady moved his finger slowly down Nina’s bare arm, from her shoulder to her wrist, then wrapped his hand around hers. “Maybe you won’t have to forget. Forget what it was like for us to be together, I mean.”
    “I haven’t forgotten what that was like, Brady.” Nina slid her hand out from under his and opened the car door. “What I meant was I’m working on forgetting the damage you left behind. I’m not Plan B when you and Janie hit a speed bump on your way to wherever it is your relationship is going.”
    “You don’t believe in second chances?”
    Nina thought for a moment. “Brady, I don’t even believe in first chances. People shouldn’t take chances loving one another. Love should be intentional.”

16
    Greg was grateful for the text message that provided a legitimate excuse for him to leave Nina’s presence. Her bitterness spewed from a wound that had festered so deep and for so long, that it had to be pierced to have any chance of healing. But her scathing attack and hearing that, for years, she wanted nothing more than for him to experience pain, horrified him. Would she be one of those people so full of hatred that, when it left, the shell she’d built to contain it would crack, and she’d find herself empty? Was this what happened to people who never knew or understood forgiveness? Who never asked, “Who were we to choose unforgiveness when God forgives us over and over and over?”
    After Lily’s death, he struggled desperately, knowing what he needed to do, but not wanting to do it. He wanted to feel anger, to build a shrine to it, and know that it would be there every day. Like Lily used to be. The accident, which he mostly didn’t call it, as a man doesn’t drink by accident or drive by accident, robbed him of his wife. It wasn’t going to rob him of resentment and hate. Greg clothed himself in righteous indignation. But, with each passing day, the feelings weighed him down more and more until their weight almostbroke him in two. Then he came across a quote from Corrie