Instead of risking a twisted ankle from jumping off the stage and running, he cleared his throat and looked at everyone but Sasha. “Thank you for coming. As most of you in the congregation know, the pre-K program is the heart and soul of St. Bartholomew’s parish. Without it, many area children, Catholic and not, wouldn’t get the vital preparation they need to start kindergarten with children of more means around the city.” He hesitated to mention God, who he was sure was readying his ticket to hell for what he would say later, but he had a role to live up to for the next few minutes. “Our joint calling as Catholics is to do good for one another. I’m happy to say that we’ll be able to continue to do good for the kids in the area for at least another year. Thank you.
“I also want to thank you on a personal level, for being here for the past few years. I’ve tried to be the best priest I could for you. I want to thank you for being here, even though I’ve failed in so many ways.” He was startled by the nervous laughter in the crowd. Shit, they were probably expecting something much, much worse than what he was about to say.
“I—I’m leaving the priesthood.” He’d spent the afternoon off on a meeting with the bishop, pleading his case to be laicized. It had taken hours, and a terribly embarrassing confession of all his sins. The bishop had wanted details, which really only strengthened Patrick’s decision to leave the Church, even if Sasha turned him down flat. “The vocation that brought me here died.” The nervous laughter hushed, and he met several disappointed gazes. “But not really—it just changed.” He took one last deep breath before he said it, the mic shaking in his hand.
Before continuing, he sought out Sasha in the crowd again, relieved to find her still standing where she’d been before. He couldn’t feel the fear anymore. In its place, he’d swear that he could feel hope.
“It changed because I’m in love with an amazing woman.” The crowd went even more silent, but Patrick didn’t balk. It was a shocking thing for most of them, and he hadn’t been sure about announcing this in front of a crowd even moments before. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face, because I’m not ashamed. And I’m not leaving because I don’t care about each and every one of you. Like I said, I just changed.”
No one spoke. And, when he looked up, Sasha was no longer where he’d last seen her. A rock formed in his gut. Maybe he wasn’t ashamed, but was she? If she didn’t feel the same way about him that he felt about her, then maybe she’d run.
Fuck. He’d always prided himself on being wise, but what if he’d miscalculated this time when it was so important? Sister Cortona sniffed at him as he passed her on the way to the stairs leading from the stage, but it was oddly approving.
He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Should he go back to the rectory and pack his meager belongings? He could crash at the apartment above Dooley’s for a while, but he would eventually need to figure out what to do with his life. Especially if the rest of his life wasn’t going to include Sasha. He’d planned that a big part of his future would be owned by her. If she didn’t want him, he didn’t know what he’d do.
His head was down as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. As soon as he’d spoken, it was like all of the adrenaline that had allowed him to make his big reveal on stage had left his body, and he felt hollow and unmoored. Like someone had carved something vital out of him.
A decade ago, he’d become a priest to avoid feeling like this. He’d always been much more comfortable with empathy than with actually feeling emotions for himself. He’d almost forgotten how intense a heartbreak could be. He’d been numb for years, and coming back into the whole romance game had rocked him. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other.
He was so focused on avoiding eye contact with any angry parishioners that he crashed into someone. He reached out to steady the person and immediately realized whom he was touching. He looked up and the hollow feeling in his chest dissipated immediately. He was filled with her scent, with being able to touch her without his vocation in the way.
The rock in his stomach disappeared when she smiled at him. It was totally corny, but it was like the clouds parting after a string of particularly rainy days. The curve of her mouth made everything luminous.
“You love me?”
That was one of the drawbacks of announcing that you loved somebody to a crowd instead of saying it to them alone. He’d never get to see the way that announcement made her feel when she first heard it. Instead, he’d have to say it again and again in the hope that it would delight her every time.
“More than anything.” This time, when it was just her, he didn’t struggle for the words to explain. “You’re the missing puzzle piece. You’re at least half of the pieces that I’ve been missing.”
Thank God her smile got bigger. “I love you, too.”
“I love you.”
“We’ve already established that.” She stepped closer to him, which made him wrap his arms around her. “And we’ve established that it’s reciprocated.”
“Do you have a plan for what to do next?”
A week ago, the twist in her smile—the one that said she definitely had a plan—would have worried him. Now, it filled him with hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SASHA HADN’T BEEN NERVOUS the first time she’d had sex. It was totally calculated, down to the instructions she would give that boyfriend. Plus, they’d done everything else, so P in V was hardly even momentous or important. She hadn’t even thought very much of the notion of virginity, even though it had been very important to her mother.
She hadn’t been nervous about any of the other times she’d had sex, either—mostly because it had never been exciting enough to get nervous about.
It had always been intended to get someone to like her or just to get off. Sasha had never had sex with the purpose of giving something to someone else before. That thought would make her feel sad if she wasn’t about to have sex with Patrick Dooley—a man who loved her. A man who’d left the priesthood to be with her. They’d never kissed without it being a violation of his vows. They’d never touched without it being illicit and wrong.
For a split second after he’d told his whole congregation and almost all of the people they knew in the city of Chicago that he was in love with her, she was nervous that there wouldn’t be the same intensity of feeling on her part if he wasn’t forbidden. But that was gone when he’d literally run into her after leaving the stage. The way his face changed when he saw that it was her. The way his grip on her arms had tightened—as though he’d found a treasure and wasn’t letting it go—reassured her at the same time that it lit up all her nerve endings.
When she’d taken his hand and led him to her car, the weight of it hit her all at once. It was only holding on to him that kept both of her feet attached to the ground. They hadn’t talked about where they’d live or what he’d do. There was no road map, no plan. Never in her life had she gone into something momentous without any idea of where it would lead, and it should terrify her.