Page 33 of Forgive Me Father

"Rom-Father Briar," I correct.

"Faulkner," He smirks, throwing on a pleasant front despite the anger lingering in his stare.

Is he jealous?

My texts from the night before were still unanswered. Maybe it’s just my mind whispering deceitful thoughts to that more logical part of me, but I chalked up yesterday’s love affair with the priest as some sort of one-night stand fantasy he’d been dying to fulfill after being abstinent for so long.

"Who's your friend?" Roman points at Luca.

"We actually just met, Father," Luca smiles, holding his hand out to Roman. "Luca Thorn."

"Roman Briar," He says flatly as he eyes the empty seat next to me.

"Well, Father, as you can see, we're busy," I bite out, pleading to Roman with my eyes to just walk away.

"I don’t think Luca would mind if I sat here while I finished my drink, would you, Luca?"

Luca gives Roman a tight smile, gesturing for him to join us.

I’m sure, in most cases, any devout Catholic would welcome the presence of a priest if they were in this situation, probably fearful of God’s wrath if they denied such a holy figure.

But most priests aren’t Roman, nor do they look like him, either.

Roman had removed the sweatshirt I’d seen him in earlier, standing in front of us now in a plain, form-fitting t-shirt, the same shade of black as his pants. His figure stands taller and more imposing than Luca's, his older age adding to the fullness of his frame. As he moves closer to us, I notice the defined muscles beneath his shirt, drawing attention to his physical strength. My gaze lingers on the tattoo snaking up his neck, catching a glimpse of its intricate design—a complex pattern of black vines and thorns twisting together.

"Not at all, Father," Luca smiles.

"Great. Eden, do you mind?"

He knows damn well that I do. But giving Roman any sort of attitude in front of Luca would raise questions that I didn’t want lingering between us. I’ll have to play nice.

"Not at all, Father," I grin. "Be my guest."

Taking a seat directly next to me, Roman’s scent fills my nose. His leg brushes mine as he adjusts himself to get comfortable in the chair, but instead of moving it away, he keeps the contact between us. He settles his left hand in his lap and leans back, widening the space between his legs.

"So Luca, I see you're wearing a cross. What faith do you follow?" Roman questions, acting like he really gives a shit.

What’s his move here?

"Catholicism, actually. Forgive me, Father, but you seem pretty young to be a priest." Luca’s tone is cautious, but I catch the skepticism etched in his expression as he waits for Roman to respond.

"Perhaps young in age, but not in mind," Roman sighs. "You should come by the church sometime. Eden's family are very active members."

"He doesn't go to church-"

"I might, actually. I haven't had the opportunity to see this town's cathedral since I moved here. I suppose it never hurts to try something out," Luca challenges, feeding into the charged air I feel between them.

"You a hockey fan?" Roman eyes Luca’s jersey.

"Fan, player. Pretty much my only hobby," Luca beams as they go back and forth on the topic, my own thoughts drowning out their conversation.

Roman's fingers graze the side of my leg, and my mind wanders back to last night.

"-She's my altar server," Roman says, my ears tuning back into the conversation.

"You serve?" Luca questions with surprise.

"Not willingly," I snap, looking over Roman. "My father signed me up-"