Page 97 of Forgive Me Father

"I'm not unsettled, Eden," He whispers, running a hand through his hair. But even as he says it, his eyes betray him. They’re wide, searching, like he’s trying to find solid ground beneath him but only feeling the earth crumble away.

"Look, Roman, what I said wasstupid—"

"It’s what made me finish," He interrupts, the confession hanging between us heavy with meaning. His cheeks flush, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something he’s afraid to admit, even to himself. "I was close, but when you said that, it did something to me," He confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you mean it?" His eyes search mine, almost pleading for an answer.

Fuck.

What do I say?

I said it because I meant it.

I said it because I wanted him to know it.

"Or was it just the sex?" He asks, his voice tight with uncertainty, his expression a mask hiding a storm of emotions.

"People say things in the heat of the moment," I lie, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I’m sorry—"

"Your twenty minutes are almost up, Angel," He says, his tone distant, though I can hear the tension beneath it. "I don’t want you to be late."

As he reaches for the door handle, I grab his hand, holding onto the connection that feels like it’s slipping away.

"Did you want me to mean it, Roman?" I ask, seeing the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and the vow he’s clinging to.

"People say things they don’t mean, Eden," He whispers, his voice laden with disappointment I can’t hide from. "Sometimes it stings."

He opens the door, and the hallway beyond seems to beckon him away from me, the distance between us growing with each passing second.

"Roman—"

"You need to get back to work. Don’t let me stop you."

With a tense look, he slips his ring back onto his finger, the gold band catching the light—a stark reminder of the vow that holds him back. His face hardens as if the ring itself has the power to lock away the emotions he’s so desperately trying to control.

"And how do you think I feel," I challenge, my voice trembling with emotion, "knowing that every time you put that ring on, it’s like you’re reminding yourself that I’m something forbidden? Like I’m a temptation you have to resist instead of someone you care about."

He turns back to me, his eyes filled with a tortured mix of emotions—fear, regret, and something deeper that he can’t quite name. His voice is low, almost a whisper, as he says, "Probably like I just told you I love you, then looked like I was too scared to accept it."

His face softens, just for a moment, and I see the man behind the priest—the man who is terrified of what he feels for me, yet powerless to stop it.

Without another word, Roman turns away, his hands disappearing into his pockets, the unspoken truth hanging heavily in the air between us.

I fucked up.

I thought I was sparing his feelings. Turns out, I’d just shattered them.

Staggering back into the main part of the café, I see Roman collecting his drink from Zoey, his eyes deliberately avoiding mine as I move behind the counter. Tightening my apron, I take a stand beside Zoey, watching Roman retreat to one of the couches. His movements are tense, his demeanor closed off, and I can’t shake the feeling of dread settling in my stomach.

"Why is he so pissy?" Zoey asks, frowning as she watches him. "He barely said a word once he grabbed his drink, and where did you two disappear to?"

"I think I messed up, Zo," I admit, my gaze fixated on Roman as he settles on the couch, the eyes of several women in the café drifting toward him, drawn to his presence.

He looks up, catching one of the women’s gazes, and smiles—a gesture that ignites a surge of jealousy and anger within me.

When his eyes briefly flicker to mine, there’s a defiant glint in them, challenging me, pushing me further into my own frustration.

No, scratch that. I definitely messed up.

"Well, go take an order," Zoey whispers urgently. "And try not to look like you just got fucked in the café bathroom," She adds, reading me like an open book.