“Christian,” I groan, looking again over my shoulder at the second car following us, which is packed with four people to our two. “Why are we going to church!?”
“For the tenth time, Iris!” Christian laughs, glancing at me cheerfully. Honestly, if he weren’t so excited about this, I’d be completely freaking out. “It will be fun. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“I hate church,” I sigh, slumping down in my seat. Memories come back to me, then, of hours being bored as hell as a very young child, sitting in a pew and staring up at a crucifix, wishing I were at home or out playing.
“This church you will like,” he murmurs, slowing the car and pulling into the parking lot of what is, admittedly, a very cute little stone chapel.
“I will not,” I sigh, deciding to be stubborn. “I will refuse all jo
