Micah's Miracle: A Christmas Love Story

Chapter 11 (revised)

"I think Nick thinks we're dating." Mark laughed softly and set his luggage on the floor at the end of the bed.

Micah placed one of his suitcases on the bed and began unpacking his clothes. "I told him we were just friends with benefits."

"I don't think he believed you." Mark found it all amusing. Normally, Micah would have as well. But today, his manner was serious as he glanced across the bed at Mark.

"Maybe we should be."

"Should be what?"

Micah paused. "Dating."

"What?" Mark stared at him, an uncertain knit in his brow. "What do you mean?"

Abandoning the suitcase, Micah walked around the bed and took hold of Mark's hands. "I mean, we're great together. We've both said we were perfect for each other. So, why not take the next step?"

Mark grew still and stared down at their hands. He caressed his thumbs on Micah's knuckles. "If you had suggested it while we were on the plane, or even last night after we had the really incredible sex...I may have said yes to us dating." He raised his eyes. "But after what happened at the airport..."

"Mark..." Micah turned away, his hands slipping free of Mark's grasp. "I told you, I didn't want to talk about that anymore. It was just some strange occurrence, nothing more. It didn't mean anything."

"It did mean something, Micah. The way you looked at him—that's the look of a man truly in love."

Micah turned abruptly and stared at him, shocked. "In love? I'd just met him, right then. What are you talking about?"

"They say," Mark murmured, "that when you meet your soulmate, you know it, right then. It's an instant mutual connection that you can't deny. It hits you with a physical blow that you feel in every part of your being."

Tremors rippled through Micah, spiking his pulse. He wanted to deny it, to tell Mark he was wrong—that that wasn't what happened between him and the emerald-eyed stranger. But he couldn't form the denial—the lie—into words. Even now—with the encounter miles and hours behind him—he was still reeling from the experience.

What the hell does it matter?

It didn't. Whoever the green-eyed man was—he was gone. A ship passing in the night, never to be seen again.

Mark seemed to read his thoughts. "I know you think it doesn't matter, that he was with someone else and, even if he wasn't, you'll never see him again."

"That is how it is," Micah mumbled.

"You don't know that," Mark said. "I mean, what were the chances that, out of all the people in the terminal, you would just happen to bump into the one? What are the astronomical odds that, in this whole wide world, he would even be there in that airport, on this day—the same day as you? And he would be the one you ran into?" Mark came closer, wonder in his eyes. "Something like that doesn't just happen, Micah. It has to be carefully orchestrated by someone who sees the bigger picture."

Micah swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Who?" he asked unsteadily, a twinge of skepticism in his tone that weakened as soon as he spoke. "God?"

"Yeah," Mark whispered. "Maybe this isn't some cosmic joke...but rather a divine plan. God works in mysterious ways. And he probably is enjoying it, not to be mean—but because he knows the ending. He knows where he's taking you and the joy and love he plans to bestow upon you."