Page 141 of The Love of Priest

Priest scoffed. "The hell you want me to do, dance while using a sharp-ass knife?"

Britain laughed as she stepped behind Priest, wrapping her arms around his torso. She placed her hand over his while he held onto the handle of the knife. Priest relaxed a bit as Britain guided him through cutting and mincing the vegetables.

"Relaxing, isn't it?" she asked in a light voice.

"No. I'm scared you might slice my fucking finger," Priest mumbled as he hurriedly snatched away his other hand that was holding the rest of the uncut onion in position.

Britain laughed. "Move around." She waved him off. This prompted him to let go of the knife and reclaim his position next to her. He hiked himself up on the counter, prompting Britain to side-eye him. "You're supposed to be helping me. Worst sous chef ever."

Priest chuckled as he picked up a green pepper from the pile she had diced and ate it. "I think I'm doing pretty good." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Of course you do." She shook her head once she finished chopping everything up.

"Come here," he called her over.

Britain glanced up at him, a small smirk playing on her face. She resigned from her task of cooking and obliged Priest's request, making her way over to him.Britain stood between his long legs, looking up at him.

"I love you,” he said to her before craning down to peck her lips.

"Awe, I love you too."

"Take a ride with me today, just to get your mind off things," Priest suggested.

She seemed willing. Anything to keep her mind off the grief. "Another adventure?" She laughed lightly, thinking about the time he had taken her to an abandoned home to retrieve a million dollars that had been stashed away for decades.

"Nah, nothing like that last time," Priest shook his head. "This will be fun.”

"I'm down," she confirmed. "Just let me finish my pasta, though, because I've been craving it." She returned to the task of cooking.

With Priest’s help, she ended up finishing her easy meal of pasta. Instead of resorting to the table to sit down and enjoy their meal together, they remained in the kitchen.

Priest had hiked Britain up to sit on the counter while he stood between her legs. They shared a plate of pasta, Britain not only feeding herself, but him as well.

"You ready for the Gala tomorrow?" he asked her.

Britain nodded eagerly. "I'm excited. Thank you for the opportunity, by the way."

Priest reached his hands over to caress her face. "It's nothing. You're with me now."

"I like the sound of that," she told him while wrapping her arms around his neck.

Priest brushed his thumb gently over her lips as he smiled at her. "You're stronger than I am. Y'know that?" His dark orbs peered into her feline-like ones.

The smirk that formed on Britain’s bare face panned out into a smile. "Don't say that," she shook her head. "Your strengths are your strengths, and mine are mine."

"How are you keeping it together?" Priest asked her.

Britain let out a deep sigh. She glanced away from him, no longer having the courage to keep eye contact.

"I have to. It's life."

"That shit is hard. I can't even imagine.” Priest shook his head.

"I've been through it," she shrugged. "I'm a woman. It comes with the territory." Britain didn’t believe losing a child should’ve had to come with the territory of being a woman, but for her own sanity, she liked to think it did.

Realizing Priest had given up the effort to ever understand her, she tried explaining once more. "It's a mind thing. If I linger, the wound gets deeper and deeper to the point it's just impossible for me to heal. If I merely hover over it, I force myself to move forward instead of sulking. Then, I can see and feel the growth and healing of it all. I would always rather hover than linger."

Priest nodded his head in understanding. Britain made some sense. Unknowingly, Priest used that same technique in different parts of his life. "So, you feel the pain; you just don't acknowledge it?"

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