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Days went by. I didn’t see or hear from Roman. The bitter pit grew in the base of my stomach. I thought that it had meant something for him to stay with me on the night I was attacked. I thought that maybe he cared. Only I’d woken up that next morning to find Roman gone, the only evidence that he’d even been there at all was the hint of his cologne on my sheets.

The truth was clear. He had stayed out of pity. I thought I was being open and vulnerable with him, instead I’d come off desperate; I had practically begged him to stay. I felt dirty, used, as if we’d slept together. Perhaps it would have been better if we did. Maybe I would have been able to brush it aside as a one-night stand. For the second time. I thought I deserved…something. Not this silence.

One evening, I found myself at Waverley Cathedral. Instead of walking around the back to the cemetery where my mother lay, I went inside the building. I needed to talk to someone living. I made my inquiries with an altar boy who was cleaning up the rows of old candles and was directed towards a room upstairs.

The door was already open. Father Laurence was sitting at his desk, pouring over the text of an ancient-looking open book.

I cleared my throat. “Father Laurence?”

He looked up, pulling his glasses off the end of his nose. “Julianna.” His face broke into a smile. “Come in, please.” He stood up, his chair making a scraping noise against the stone floor, before he walked around his desk towards me, his church robes swaying around his feet. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He held out his hands and I took them. They were warm and slightly rough. He squeezed my fingers and leaned in to place a kiss on my cheek. He smelled of the church incense and of old books.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Father,” I said.

“Not at all. Come. Sit.” He directed me to an old couch, his visitor’s couch. I’d sat on this very couch so many times after my mother had died, just taking comfort in Father Laurence’s presence. My father had been so devastated by my mother’s death that he had no room for my grief. I couldn’t talk to him about her or even say her name. Father Laurence had given me that space I needed to grieve. He had been a confidant ever since. He was the one who gave me the courage to leave home and pursue my dream of joining the police academy.

Father Laurence studied me as he leaned back against the brown leather. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

I inhaled and tried to figure out how I was supposed to start. Whether I should even start.

My eyes came to rest upon the bookshelf made of sturdy wood against the opposite wall. This was new. Filling one shelf was books, their spines reading The Alchemy of Herbs, Herbs for Healing and The Power of Plants. On the other shelves were glass jars filled with dried leaves, roots and flowers. “You’ve started studying plants?”

“Yes. Plants, herbs and their medicinal uses. But come, Julianna. You didn’t come here to talk about my hobbies.”

I sighed. “There’s this boy. No, not a boy, far from a boy. He’s most definitely a man Although, he often acts like a boy.” I stopped suddenly, realizing I was rambling.

“You like him.”

“Yes. I mean, no.” I let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know.”

“And he…likes you?”

“Sometimes I think so. Then other times… He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’s the most confusing, frustrating man I’ve ever met. He’s bossy and stubborn and jealous and he has such a temper on him. Sometimes I wish I could just…” I shook my hands as if I were choking his neck.

“I see,” Father Laurence said quite simply.

Did he? Because I couldn’t.

“Have you told him how you feel?” he asked.

Told Roman how I feel? I almost laughed. Then I felt like crying. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t think I should. I don’t know if it’s right… But I don’t know how to make this feeling stop.”

Father Laurence let out a small hum.

I stayed in the safety of the darkness of my lids until Father Laurence spoke again. “Many years ago, I was in the same position you find yourself in now.” He paused.

I opened my eyes. Father Laurence was staring at the floor, his eyes misty as he weighed his next words.

“Did you tell her?” I asked.

The corners of his mouth turned down. “No.” That single word seemed to contain all the gravity of the world. “I failed to tell the woman I loved that I loved her. I failed to fight for her. Because at the time, I told myself it wasn’t right.”

“Why not?”

“At first, it was because I didn’t want to risk the friendship we had. I was scared. Eventually, it was because she married another man. She died before I could tell her.” Father Laurence raised his eyes to mine. I was startled to see they were wet. “It was and still is the single greatest regret of my life.”

“Father…”

“Life is over much too soon,” he said. “If you love him, Julianna, don’t hold it back.”

* * *

Father Laurence’swords were banging around in my head as I dug around in my bag for my apartment keys. My phone rang. My heart did its usual skip at the thought that it could be Roman.

It was Christian. He’d already called a few times since our date and I hadn’t returned any of his calls. I debated whether to ignore it. Roman’s ignoring you and look how that’s making you feel. I shoved these feelings inward and picked up the call, juggling the phone and my bag. “Hey, Christian.”

“I heard about what happened. I can’t believe someone tried to kidnap you. Thank God you’re okay.”

“How did you…? My father,” I muttered, answering my own question. “Thanks for your concern, Christian. But I’m fine.”

“What are you doing tonight? What if I come over and make you dinner? You shouldn’t be alone.”

I opened my door and froze. I wasn’t alone. Roman was standing in my living room, waiting for me.