Page 61 of Savior

When I work it into my mouth after blowing on it, her eyes are on me, waiting to see if I like it.

The flavors tango sinfully on my tongue, and I moan.

“Stop, it’s not that good,” she says, stirring and returning to the pot.

I realize she thinks I’m overselling it to make her feel better.

I take the spatula from her and turn her around, searching her face for the sass-mouthed girl Dante had dropped off here in the first place.

“I mean it, it’s delicious. What’s in it?”

“Chicken breast, egg noodles, a can of cream of mushroom, some milk, sour cream, cream cheese, and spices.”

“Chicken stroganoff, then?”

Her eyes light at the idea that what she’d cooked had a name and a mission to want to keep that glow in them as long as I live grows in my belly.

“Chicken Stroganoff,” she says, more confident in her ability.

“It’s delicious,” I tell her, kissing her lips softly.

It’s not until we’ve eaten that silence permeates the room again. I set the table, which I rarely eat at, rather than sit in front of the television, which has become a habit with Sloane.

I don’t mind it. I want her to know I appreciate her effort in cooking this fantastic meal.

“What are we doing?” she asks, her voice cracking as she gets her question out.

I look up at her from where I’d been drumming my fingers on the table, lost in my head.

“I don’t know, Sloane. I’m… I’m a weak man when it comes to you. And I don’t want to fight how I feel.”

My confession lies between us like a feather slowly falling through the air.

She licks her lips. “I’ve wanted nothing more than I want you,” she admits.

“But do you only want me because I’m a soft place to land?” The question is out of my mouth before I can overthink it. And that’s where I fuck up.

She looks affronted, gasping at the insinuation that she’s using me to kill time or to feel safe.

Which isn’t how I meant it to come out.

“Sloane, no, that’s not what I meant to?—”

She stands, moving to drop her dishes into the sink. “I’ve made my way in this fucking world for far longer than you’ve been in my life, Luca. You’re a blip on my fucking radar. Do you understand me?Youare the lucky one. The one who should feel fucking blessed to have me in your life. You’re the one whoshould worry if you’re using me to leave a faith you’ve had one foot inside of for quite some time.”

Her words stab through my chest like an arrow. “Excuse me?”

This is why priests aren’t supposed to take wives or let the lure of flesh distract them from their true calling to do the Lord’s work. Instead of studying or writing the following sermon for Mass, I’m too focused on what will come out of her mouth next.

“You heard me.”

I stand, crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sloane. I was only asking if you think what we have, what is going on, is…”

“Real? I don’t know, Luca, is it?”

It can’t be.

Unless I’m going to leave the church, I can’t be with her fully.

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