Page 72 of The Temptation

I stare at her, caught somewhere between stunned silence and that dangerous rising hope again.

God fucking help me.

My hands slightly tremble as I stand beside my bed and knot my tie. I can’t believe this is happening.

I’ve faced some brutal moments in my life, things that should’ve broken me, but this? Standing in front of this mirror, preparing to marry a person who could best be described as the woman of my dreams, has me feeling that I might actually come undone.

Lucia Rossi is chaos and calm all wrapped into one maddening little bundle, and somehow, by some miracle or twist of fate, she said yes.

Not just to the marriage on paper, but to me. To the mess I am, the past I carry, and the man I’m still trying to become.

I may have had to grease a few palms to get the job done, but the marriage licence is sorted, and Father Flannery is on his way. I still haven’t figured out where things will go once the threat is removed. An annulment … an amicable divorce? I have no fucking clue, but I’ll tackle that problem when it arrives.

Lucia has been acting giddy all day, and deep down, that makes me feel like shit. She’s seeing this for more than it is, but I can’t find it in me to burst her bubble.

Maybe it’s selfish—hell, I know it is—but seeing her happy, even if it’s built on a shaky foundation, is the only thing keeping me steady right now. For the first time in years, there’s light in my life, and it’s all because of her.

Even if I don’t deserve it, I’m going to hold on tight for a little longer.

Long enough to memorise the sound of her laugh when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

Long enough for that stupid daily shimmying to stop because she no longer needs to chase her blues away.

Long enough to pretend, for both our sakes, that maybe this could be more than just a means to an end.

One day, I’ll have to look her in the eye and explain why this can never be real. But today I’m going to push that all aside and marry her.

Lucia desperately wanted to tell her sister about our impending nuptials, but I had to swear her to secrecy. I know I’m risking everything by keeping this from Dante, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my idea.

Dante specifically told me that the man who was lucky enough to have her would need to make a lifetime commitment. I can’t offer her that. She deserves someone better than me. This is simply part of a plan, not a final destination.

I drag my suit jacket off the clothes hanger and slide into it before glancing down at my watch. Father Flannery should be arriving soon.

A part of me feels bad for dragging him into this. I know this wasn’t easy for him. He had to bend some rules to get us to this point—probably more than he’s comfortable with—but I can’t fault him for that.

I may live a morally grey life, constantly making choices that toe the line or outright cross it, but he’s a man of the cloth. He answers to someone a hell of a lot higher than I do. And yet, here he is. Still showing up for me and standing by me when he has every reason not to. I don’t take that lightly. I never have.

If and when the shit hits the fan—and let’s be honest, it’s a matter ofwhen, notif—I’ll make sure he doesn’t takeany heat for this. The fallout, the consequences, all of it, is my mess to carry.

I exit my room, and my stomach churns as I pass Lucia’s closed bedroom door. She spent the afternoon preparing food to serve after the ceremony, but she’s been locked in there ever since, getting ready, or at least, I hope that’s what she’s doing.

For all I know, she’s pacing the floor, second-guessing everything. Or maybe she’s realised this is a mistake, and is already halfway out the damn window.

That thought gives me pause, and I’m half tempted to knock to check on her. To possibly utter something reassuring, but what the hell would I even say?“Hey, just making sure you’re still willing to legally bind yourself to a man with more baggage than an airport carousel?”

I shake my head, thinking better of it. Those words might be enough to tip her over the edge.

I continue moving, but with each step I take, the knot in my stomach tightens.

I’m standing by the window in the main room, gazing out onto the street with my hands shoved deep in my trouser pockets, when Father Flannery arrives.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I watch him get out of that heap of shit car he’s been driving around in for years. I make a mental note to buy him a new one once this is all over. He’s so selfless, he probably won’t accept it, but I’ll do it anyway.

Last year, I anonymously paid for a new roof for the youth club after a freak storm damaged it. When I first offered to help with the repairs, he politely declined.

I’m still not sure if it was his pride or if he couldn’t bringhimself to accept what most would probably call blood money. Maybe it was both.

Father Flannery has always walked the straight and narrow, even when the ground beneath him was anything but steady. But I still found a way to get him what he needed. Quietly. Without fanfare.