Page 32 of Forgive Me Father

Whipping my head around, there he stands, in black joggers and a grey hoodie, the tattoo on his neck peeking out from the neckline. I don’t think anyone would guess he was a priest.

"Did she just say, Father?" Luca questions. "As in, that man's a priest?"

"Yeah," I mutter. "That's exactly what she said."

Locking eyes with me, Roman raises his brows once he notices Luca. A wave of arousal washes over me, pooling in my lower stomach. Crossing my legs, I bite my cheek, trying to focus on something else.

Why the fuck is he here?

Tugging at my collar, the material feels tighter

Turning back to Luca, I try to pick up where we left off.

"Do you want to sit with me while I take my break?"

Luca nods, his eyes burrowing into mine with a look of curiosity and satisfaction."Sure-"

Taking a step out from behind the counter, I keep my back facing Roman, blocking out the sound of his voice as he relays his order to Zoey.

"Zoey, I'm taking fifteen," I yell, making my way outside and away from Father Briar.

Chapter 9

Eden

Aiden doesn’t even look up as I exit the coffee shop with Luca. He is too lost in his studies as music blares from his headphones. I quickly guide Luca to one of the many tables positioned on the side of the cafe. We take a seat across from each other, his drink nearly spilling.

"Note to self: when you mean now, you mean now," Luca laughs, taking a long drink from the cup.

"I hate seeing people from church outside the cathedral," I say with full honesty. My reasons for avoiding Roman are not something I want to explain to anyone.

"I get it. My parents tried the whole Sunday Mass thing for a while. Then, they got dragged into Bible study sessions and prayer groups. Eventually, they got sick of having to be involved in so many different activities to be fully accepted into the church. That's kinda when they broke off."

The veneration in his tone as he tells me about his parents is obvious. My intuition tells me that they’re close, that there’s alot of love there. The concept of having a choice when it comes to faith is foreign to me.

"I wish my parents were capable of giving their all to something other than the Church. My whole life has been centered around the Catholic faith and serving God. Not to mention, my dad’s interpretation of scripture is literal. It’s the ultimate authority for him, and it has a major influence on how he wants us to live.”

"Jesus, when you say literal, you mean-"

"If you looked up 'Crazy Catholics' on Urban Dictionary, my parent's pictures would no doubt pop up," I sigh, leaning my face into my hands, my ass still throbbing from the punishment my dad probably spent the morning justifying to himself was necessary.

"Well," Luca sighs, "I've never minded a little crazy in my life."

I smile. If I wasn’t trapped by just how much my parents being ‘Crazy Catholics’ affected my life, I’d probably have a chance of developing a truly healthy relationship with someone for once. The weight of the realization that my home life was something I’d never be able to share with someone like Luca hits me, shame and longing distorting my features as I dip my head, unable to look at him any longer.

His fingers wrap around my chin, lifting my head up so that our eyes meet again. His touch is warm and gentle, and I feel my face grow hot from the attention.

I can’t help but give him a smile, even if it’s an awkward one.

"What are you doing?"

"Hoping to see that again-"

"Eden?" A deep voice questions from somewhere in my periphery, the familiar way it sounded coming through my phone last night sending warmth through my body.

Oh no.

Craning my head up, I see Roman glaring at us, his fingers clinching tightly around his paper to-go cup as Luca’s hand falls from my face.