Oh God. He wasn’t just some guy she was hung up on. She was well and truly in love with him. And she’d just walked away.
The realization hit her so hard that she had to look away. Her hands itched for something to do. Anything that would take away the stabbing pain in her chest and the burning behind her eyes. Anything that would stop the tears that threatened from being noticed.
They needed to wait until she was alone.
That thought stopped her, too. She remembered the conversations with Pam about feeling her feelings so that they could dissipate. Instead of running off to fix something or make something into a problem so she could fix it—the funnel cake station was a little catawampus—she ducked behind the ring-toss tent and stood there with her eyes closed.
She let the feelings rioting through her be for a long moment. Immediately, the intensity lessened. Yeah, she’d messed up, but she could make it right. Patrick might be a frocked priest, but he still had choices. He was still an adult.
As soon as she’d left Patrick sitting in the last pew of St. Bart’s, she’d known that she’d made a huge mistake. Her best friend had told her as much when she’d recounted her and Patrick’s conversation the next day.
Hannah was right. Hannah was always right these days. Men left the priesthood all the time. They had from time immemorial. If he wanted to be with her, he could do that.
After the carnival was over, she was going to tell him how she felt and let the chips fall where they may. Instead of the dread and raw pain running through her body at the thought that she would have to live her life without him that she’d felt several emotions ago, she felt anticipation and the almost delicious fear that told her she was making the right/wrong choice.
That’s how Hannah found her. “What are you doing? Communing with the nature spirits?”
“Yes, I’m calling on the Great Mother to bring me some of that good dick.”
Her friend laughed, probably surprised to hear Sasha using crass and flippant language. “On sacred grounds, no less.”
“I’m a changed woman,” Sasha said, looking her friend in the eye, happy to see that she no longer seemed as though she was about to vomit. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Hannah put her hand on her still ever-growing belly bump. “I barely have enough to complain to Jack about so that he brings home the good ice cream in contrition anymore.”
“You’re glowing.”
“That’s moisturizer.” Hannah blushed, never able to just take a compliment. “Now, tell me about the D you’re trying to catch. Is it Nathan?” Hannah lengthened the syllables of Nathan’s name. She hadn’t told Hannah about him being married. “Or Patrick?” She lengthened the syllables of his name even more, indicating her strong preference for the latter.
“Shhh.” She might be ready to declare her feelings to Patrick, but she didn’t think his whole congregation needed to know that she was about to steal their man. “The second one.”
Hannah squeezed her fists in front of her face. “Yes!”
Jack walked up behind his wife and kissed her neck. “What are we celebrating?”
“Sasha’s going to tell Patrick how she really feels like a grown-up.” Hannah turned to him.
“Finally!” Jack, very dramatically, dropped to his knees as though he’d just scored a winning goal.
Sasha was shocked, though she shouldn’t have been. Hannah and Jack told each other everything, after all. She was a little surprised that Jack wasn’t upset that she was going to ruin his best friend’s life. But, as it turned out, it wasn’t a split decision in the Nolan-Mayfield household.
“Get up.” Hannah looked at her husband as though he’d lost his mind. Just then, Sasha noticed that she didn’t feel the stab of jealousy that she normally hated herself for when she looked at them. Maybe it was because what they had finally felt within reach. Or maybe somewhere along the way she’d let go of needing everything just so. Maybe, even if Patrick turned her down flat and decided to stay a priest, falling in love with him had changed something inside her.
Nah, it was probably just the therapy working.
There was a screech from the sound system that had them all swiveling their heads there. Over the speakers, Patrick’s gravelly voice made a nervous-sounding noise. Sasha didn’t hesitate to walk over to the area in front of the grandstand. She wasn’t afraid of looking at Patrick anymore.
Hannah and Jack followed her.
Patrick stood alone on the small stage. Even from a hundred feet away, she could see Patrick’s Adam’s apple bounce a little in his throat, and he looked sweaty.
The fear she’d been feeling lost its deliciousness, and the sinking feeling returned.
* * *
—
PATRICK ALMOST DROPPED THE microphone when five hundred people looked at him—some from the congregation, but a lot of faces he didn’t recognize.
Why had he thought this was a good idea?
Because Sasha would believe him if he declared himself in front of an audience. Because he had to explain himself to the people who’d put their spiritual lives in his hands for so long. Many of them had trusted him, and he couldn’t help but feel that this was a betrayal of their trust. He wasn’t going to be able to live up to the sacrament so he could face God, but he couldn’t stay and look himself in the mirror in the morning for the rest of his life.
But he wasn’t about to slink away in shame, either. Guilt would rest on his shoulders for what he was about to do—perhaps for the remainder of his days—but he had nothing to be ashamed of. He was in love, even though he’d never thought it would happen. It was undeniable, and it wasn’t going away. His vocation had been enough for him for a long time. The people in the crowd had filled his life by giving him a purpose, but his purpose had changed. It had concentrated and focused on making one woman happy—if she would have him.
Hell, another wave of trepidation washed over him. What if she wasn’t in love with him? What if she was in love with that other man?
He looked for her in the crowd, taking mere seconds to spot her. She stood alone, which gave him some relief, but she wasn’t looking at him as though she was excited to hear what he had to say. By the same strange mechanism that connected them when they were close, he could feel her fear through the air. As though the breeze carried it to him, he felt it too.
He looked down for a moment, wondering if he should do this at all. But then he spied Sister Cortona out of the corner of his eye. Before he’d come up here, she’d let him know that the receipts from the carnival up until that moment had put them over the amount that they would need to keep the preschool program running. Then, she stood at the top of the stairs to the small stage. He would have to jump if he wanted to escape, which told him that he wasn’t going to escape at all.