Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
With the courage of convictions that I did not feel but drew upon anyway, I walked up to the church, ignoring the way the copper gargoyles stared down at me as if they could sense my sins. They somehow just knew that I was there for unholy reasons, and that I was no longer worthy to walk through those doors.
Taking a deep breath and tightening my stomach, bracing myself for the hand of God himself to smite me, I pushed open the dark red wooden doors and walked into the brownstone church.
Nothing happened, no lightning bolt struck me dead, the gargoyle did not come to life to eat me. I knew I was being ridiculous. The actual monster was me. The real threat was inside the church already.
“Can I help you, young lady?” A priest with snow white hair and deep lines around his mouth and eyes greeted me as he walked down between the pews.
“Uh, yes, Father,” I said, giving the same polite, serene smile I gave to everyone. “I’m looking for Father Manwarring. My mother asked me to come speak with him about the Christmas bazaar.”
It was an easy enough lie, although lying to a priest like that made my stomach clench with guilt and my heart feel tight.
“Ah, yes. He is around here somewhere. I am sure we can find him,” the older priest said as he led me further into the church.
I couldn’t help but look up at the stained glass windows then follow the paths of multicolored light to the floor, where the intricate patterns danced as sunlight filtered through the leaded panes.
“Ms. Astrid,” a familiar and terrifying voice called. My back straightened and for a moment, just a moment, I considered turning and running out of the church like my life depended on it.
No, I told myself. I came here for a reason. This needed to happen today.
“Father Thomas,” the priest who led me further into the lion’s den said. “I found this young girl just inside the door, looking for you. Something about the Christmas bazaar?”
“Yes, Father Matthew. I was expecting her. Forgive me for not informing you. Thank you for showing her back here.”
“Of course. If there’s nothing else, do you mind if I leave? The nuns a few streets over are having a bingo night, and I said I would help.”
“You have a lovely night. I will hold down the fort,” Father Manwarring said, reaching out and putting his hand at the small of my back, guiding me away from the only other person I could see in the building.
He said nothing. Just led me deeper into the church, and I couldn’t do anything other than follow. I had wanted to have this conversation somewhere private enough that we couldn’t be overheard, but public enough he wouldn’t be able to do anything.
The heavy wooden door closed, its bang echoing through the empty church. Signaling that we were alone.
He turned on me, and his hand immediately wrapped in my hair at the base of my skull, just enough to tip my head back so I was looking into his eyes. It wasn’t fair. Even in the filtered light, their copper and amber flecks were still absolutely mesmerizing. “What is the real reason you’re here?”
“I want to tell you that what happened before can’t happen again.” I was so nervous that my voice shook, my words coming out in a rush of air.
“What?” he said, raising a single eyebrow at me.
I took a deep, steadying breath. His hand tugging the hair at the base of my scalp actually helped center me. I had gone past the point of no return. I had to do this. There was simply no other option. Holding his gaze with my own, I repeated myself, slowly this time, being sure to enunciate my words, adding strength to them I still had to fake.
“What happened before, between us, was wrong. You are a priest, and my brother-in-law, and I have a boyfriend.”
He released my hair and started circling me, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. I stared at the floor, at the beautiful tiles under my shoes, and tried not to think about anything else.
Technically, I wasn’t lying about the boyfriend. Raul was never a boyfriend, not in any real sense.
Even before I met Father Manwarring, I knew what I felt for Raul was just a crush. And a boringly stereotypical, “acting out” one at that. At first, I tricked myself into thinking it might be love. Still, the more I thought about it, the more time we spent together, and even when I lay with him for the first time, giving him my virtue, I knew the entire relationship was not going anywhere, especially if I were to finally get into grad school.
We had never officially broken up, though, so I guessed that meant we were still technically together? We had sent a few text messages in the summer. He was talking about eloping and starting our lives together, but the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to do it.