Yes, her best friend was blissfully happy, and Sasha was only a little bit jealous. “Jack’s treating you like a queen, isn’t he?”
Hannah smiled when she said, “It’s almost annoying.”
“It’s what you deserve.”
Hannah leveled her a look that told her that her best friend knew that she’d been trying to change the subject. “What are you going to do about Madison?”
“I have no idea.” They’d never spent that much time together as adults, and they were almost like strangers. “She’s been just lying around and drinking my wine. She eats nothing. It’s starting to worry me.”
“Well, maybe if you put her to work?”
“Doing what?” Her sister had never held an actual job in her whole life, but her experience volunteering might be put to good use. Still, Sasha had serious reservations. “She might be able to plan a decent tea for the Junior League, but she’s not a professional event planner. If I set her loose on a bride, she would just end up getting us fired by telling her that her taste is unrefined.”
“Then don’t let her plan weddings.” Hannah was either delusional about the extent of Madison’s awfulness or trying to tank their business. “Or let her menace the vendors when I have my head in the toilet.”
That wasn’t a half-bad idea. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Hannah nodded in that way she did when she knew that she’d won.
* * *
—
FOR A FEW DAYS after the bake sale, Patrick felt as though he’d gotten away with something. Like when he was a kid and he and Chris had pulled a prank. There’d always been a few days—before Chris had opened his big fucking mouth—that they’d gotten away with it. It was a heady and exhilarating feeling, and that made him feel guilty, along with the fact that he’d technically broken his vow of celibacy for a semi-satisfying wank in the shower.
But he’d always had to pay for the giddiness, like when he was a kid and put toads in the assistant principal’s desk after she’d called his brother stupid. And it was no different this time.
Sister Cortona was meaner than that principal, though. They were going over the music director’s plans for a fall concert series when she lowered the boom.
“What do you think you’re doing with that girl?” she asked.
Patrick felt the red flush work its way up his neck, but he still decided to deny it. “What girl?”
Sister Cortona just rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair on the other side of his desk.
“She planned a bake sale.” Patrick shrugged, knowing that it wasn’t going to end there, but needing to buy himself time. “We made quite a bit of money.”
“And then you invited her back to your place for a drink, like someone who can actually date. Someone who hasn’t taken a vow of celibacy.”
She had him there. Drinking alone with Sasha wasn’t technically a violation of the rules. He could have a social life. But it had tempted him to do things that were outside the rules. Oh Christ, had Sister Cortona heard him masturbating? The level of mortification in that was greater than when his mother had simply started replacing all of his and Chris’s socks on a monthly basis instead of cleaning them. He wished she was around for him to apologize for that, but he also wanted to ask her why she’d thought a little pervert like him should have become a priest.
Regrets, he had a few. But he wasn’t about to let Sister Cortona in on that. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. She wasn’t his confessor—she couldn’t be because the Catholic Church was a patriarchal institution. That was why he didn’t really say anything about the frank and bracing way in which she liked to insult him. And this time he really deserved it.
“It won’t happen again.”
“So you admit that it shouldn’t have happened in the first place?” Jesus, why couldn’t she just let him off the hook?
“Nothing happened. She did the parish a solid, and we had a drink and a chat afterward.”
“Did you touch her?”
“We hugged.” He should not have admitted that.
“And you don’t think about her like you think about Mrs. O’Toole.” Sister Cortona sighed. “You think about her like one of the chippies that probably tried to get you to quit the seminary.”
Nope. None of the women he’d dated after Ashley dumped him and his mother died had seriously tested his vocation in the way that Sasha was. But he wasn’t ready to confess and do penance to his actual confessor, and he wasn’t ready to fess up to Sister Cortona either.
“We’re just friends. I’m allowed to have friends.”
“I see the way you look at her, and it’s a dangerous game.” Sister Cortona stood up, and Patrick thought better of reminding her that they still had actual church business to discuss. She was gearing up to have the last word. “I know you, and I know you don’t want to cause a scandal for the church.”
“I’m not going to cause a scandal—”
“I’m not going to be part of covering things up for you.” She pointed a finger at him, and he was chastened. He wouldn’t expect her to cover up for him. He had his feelings for Sasha under control. He did. “Be sure she’s worth you destroying your whole life and turning away from your vocation if you take things further.”
It wasn’t worth it. First of all, his feelings were one-sided. Sasha politely flirted with everyone, and he had no indication that her interactions with him were different or special. And even if she was attracted to him, she was dating someone else—something he’d encouraged her to continue doing. Finally, there was no reason to think that their attraction—if it even existed—was anything beyond just that. If he broke his vows to be with her, there was no indication that it would be anything beyond sex. It wasn’t like she would want him to give up being a priest for her. She came from money and had a lifestyle to maintain. It was clear from whom she was dating that she didn’t want a defrocked priest/househusband hanging around her apartment with nothing to do but service her sexually. She needed—deserved—more than that.
“Nothing’s going to happen.” He hoped he sounded more sure about that than he actually was.
“If you want, I will deal with her going forward.” That idea stabbed Patrick in the heart. He was at peace—sort of—with the idea that he’d never be able to touch Sasha. He’d never kiss her, never know for sure that her skin was like velvet, or know the sounds she made when she came. But he wasn’t okay with never seeing her again.