Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(23)
And yes, she worried for the day that she’d finally have to tell him that she was a virgin. What would he say? Would he be turned off by her inexperience? Her heart clenched as she imagined him rejecting her, walking away from her—
“And…?”
“Oh, uh…” She shook her head quickly. “N-Nothing.”
“What?” he asked, smiling at her, searching her eyes with his crystal clear, beautiful green. “Let me guess…they don’t date Lutherans?”
She grinned at him. “Not usually.”
He dropped his lips to hers, and she could taste the alcohol on them, but it didn’t bother her.
“You’ve never mentioned going to church. And the way you talk about your family…it sounds like you’ve placed some distance between your upbringing and your life here.”
After seven years in New York with a trip home only at Christmas every year, she was a lapsed Mennonite, at best.
“Believe it or not, there is a Mennonite church in Manhattan, and I’ve gone a few times, but besides the fact that the services conflict with my work schedule…I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like me anymore. Frankly, I don’t have a problem with flashy clothes, though I don’t have many. I don’t even really have a problem with drinking, I just never started and figure there’s no reason to start now.”
“Would you call yourself a Mennonite?”
A hot pink neon sign that read “V-CARD” flashed obnoxiously in her brain.
“It’ll always be a part of who I am. But, no, I wouldn’t call myself a practicing Mennonite anymore. I think I’d just call myself…someone who hopes she’s a good person.”
“You are a good person. You know that, don’t you?”
She bit her lip, thinking about her mother’s disappointed, disapproving face when Elise shared that she’d be attending theater school in New York City after high school graduation. It had hurt her deeply that her parents couldn’t support such an important decision in her life. It wasn’t like acting was immoral, and Elise was careful about the roles she accepted. No nudity, nothing really foul-mouthed or erotic. Still, it didn’t matter. They would never leave Lowville to come and see her in a play. She had long since recognized that her parents would never accept her for who she was, and she’d had to make her peace with it.
“A good daughter would have stayed home on the farm,” she said, careful to keep the bitterness from her voice, but unable to hold back the sorrow. “My parents and sisters don’t really understand what I’m doing here.”
“Well, I do. And I think it was incredibly brave of you to leave your home to follow your dream,” he said firmly, pushing her hair behind her ear and putting his arm around her shoulders to draw her closer.
She leaned into him, amazed that for the first time in longer than Elise could remember, she didn’t feel alone. It made a well of gratitude swell deep within her and she was determined not to take his strength and warmth for granted. Not today. Not ever.
“From the time I was a little girl I knew the simple life wasn’t for me. I wanted something so different from that life. I wanted so much more.”
“And you made it happen,” he said, “all on your own. I’m blown away by you, Elise Klassan.”
***
Preston wasn’t entirely surprised to learn that Elise had been raised Mennonite.
From the first moment he met her, he’d sensed an otherworldliness to her, an old-fashioned modesty, an uncommon reserve. It made sense on one hand. And yet, her chosen profession—acting on the stage—couldn’t be more incongruous with his (possibly inaccurate) understanding of her childhood faith and culture. He thought he’d had a good understanding of the scope of her ambition, but now he realized it was far stronger and wider than he’d originally guessed. To leave her family’s farm and come to New York was impressive enough for any young girl. To leave a—what had she called it?—simple life for an acting career in New York, totally unsupported by her family, would have taken staggering amounts of courage, drive and ambition.
Preston knew something about drive and ambition; he’d started training for the Olympic team when he was in high school and hadn’t let go of the dream until his torn cuff and two surgeries had finally closed the window on a gold medal. But he’d had the support of his mother and older brother, and his father’s legacy to open doors for him. Not to mention, he had a trust fund at his disposal for every expense. He couldn’t imagine how much strength and determination he’d have needed to go it alone.
Squeezing her closer and dropping his lips to her head, he realized again how spectacular and singular she was…and how hard he was falling for her, which made his body long for her in ways that were sharp and aching and constant.
Although their standing Friday and Saturday night dates had enabled him to regain focus on his studies and internship, he still thought about her endlessly. And after two weeks of dating, he had to admit: he was starting to feel just a little bit impatient for things to move along a little bit faster. He wasn’t necessarily talking about sex. Even before tonight, he knew she wasn’t the type of girl who was going to sleep with him immediately, but he felt drawn to her with a strong, ceaseless magnetism. He wanted to see her more than two evenings a week. He wanted her to spend time at his apartment, to feel comfortable there, to throw on his sweatshirt when she was chilly and put her girly things in his bathroom cabinet. He wanted constant evidence of her in his life—a script left open on his coffee table, her shoes on the mat just inside his front door, her favorite yogurt stocked in his refrigerator door.