Max was not a church-goer by any definition of the word. He found the entire concept antiquated and restrictive, and he'd never felt any particular benefit from faith in anything but other people. It was just one more way, he'd say, that Lucy was a better person than he was. It never occurred to him to pray for anybody, not even himself.

Down the pathway from the church he'd paused, shoulders hunched forward and hands cuppped before his face as he lit a cigarette. He really needed to slow down, or his smokes weren't going to last him. Despite the idea that he should be happy to now be with Jude, he'd been stressed and chain smoking since they'd gotten together. He hadn't seen Lucy for more than a few seconds since she'd discovered them, and it bothered him.