Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

Ready and Redeemed

Jeremy

The sunlight cuts through the blinds like gold ribbons, slicing across my floor and the open Bible on my nightstand. I blink awake to the soft hum of birds outside and the faint scent of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

For a second, I lie there, letting the memory of last night replay in my mind — Cecilia's laugh, the calm in her eyes, the feeling of peace that wrapped around us like we were standing inside a prayer instead of my room.

And the kiss.

That soft, sacred moment that didn't feel like something I'd been waiting for but something I'd been waiting through.

I can still hear myself whispering, Thank You, Lord.

The thought alone makes me smile as I reach for my phone on the nightstand. A notification blinks on my phone screen. 

Cecilia: Morning, JereBear. I made it home safe. I'm praying you slept well!

I grin, running a hand through my messy hair as I type back.

Me: Morning, Cece. I slept like a blessed rock. Coffee's calling. Want to plan that getaway we talked about? You still off this weekend?

Her reply comes fast:

> I am! Smooth Brew's closed for equipment maintenance. God's timing, right? ☕

I sit up, leaning against the headboard. "God's timing," I repeat under my breath with a chuckle. He really does have a sense of humor.

By the time I make it downstairs, Mom's already reading her devotion at the kitchen counter while Dad hums a tune by the stove. Annaliese sits in her booster chair, squishing banana slices with both hands like a tiny, determined artist.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Mom says without looking up. "You're glowing. That's either caffeine deprivation or something else."

"Maybe both," I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

Dad turns with a grin. "You and Cecilia hang out yesterday?"

"Yeah," I admit and my voice softens without my permission. "We had a good talk. A really good one."

Mom's eyes lift, curious. "Mmm, that kind of tone sounds serious."

"It's... peaceful," I say honestly. "We read Scripture, laughed, listened to Jamiroquai, and — we're planning a little weekend getaway."

"Just the two of you?" Dad asks, flipping a pancake.

"Yeah. Somewhere quiet."

He nods approvingly. "Good. You both need that. Someplace where your souls can breathe again."

Mom smiles. "Bring your Bible and sunscreen, in that order."

I laugh. "Yes, ma'am."

After breakfast, I step outside to call Cecilia. Her voice through the phone is like morning light — soft, hopeful.

"Hey, you," she says. "You sound awake and alive."

"Barely," I tease. "So, I'm thinking maybe somewhere coastal but not crowded. Malibu's too noisy, Santa Monica too cliché. What about Ojai?"

"Oh, I love Ojai," she says instantly. "It's peaceful. Has nice mountain views. You can actually hear the wind there."

"Perfect," I say, already grabbing a notebook from the porch table. "Cabin or inn?"

"Cabin," she replies without hesitation. "I want to feel unplugged. No fancy lobbies or paparazzi waiting outside."

"Got it. Rustic, private, and optional Wi-Fi," I jot down. "We can head out later in the evening, come back Sunday morning before church?"