Page 102 of When We Were Enemies
I blink and shake my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. It took a lot of restraint to leave him alone and not make a scene with Father Ignatius, but now he’s here, outside, underdressed, and looking for me. I’m overcome with gratitude. Even if he’s here to tell me henever wants to see me again and that I ruined his life—it’s better than the stonewalling.
“I’m waiting for my Uber. Father Ignatius passed on your message.”
“My message?” he asks, the haze from his heavy breathing obscuring his face.
“That you didn’t want to talk to me.” It hurts to say it. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I curse my inability to stop them. “Which is completely your prerogative. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of all this.”
“You’re sorry?” he asks, moving into a puddle of light that illuminates his light blue eyes, making them glow. “No,I’msorry. This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s my fault and my family’s fault. God, it’s even Hunter’s fault.” I run through the list, laughing ironically. “The only person I don’t blame is you.”
“I can’t let you do that. The pictures and accusations, sure, we can blame that on human frailties like greed or pride. But my sin remains the same. I ...” He stumbles over his words, staring at his hands pressed together in front of him. “I knew after our first meeting that I needed to be careful. It didn’t take long to developverystrong feelings for you. I allowed myself to have them, and I nurtured them inappropriately.”
He’s avoided direct eye contact until now. When he meets my gaze, it’s there again, the electricity that nearly struck me down when he touched my hand across his desk after our first interview. Damn that current. Damn how right it feels. Damn how badly I want to be held in his arms and protect one another from all the stones hurled our way.
He looks away first, following the line of the church steeple, his eyes turned toward the heavens.
“Father Ignatius will be completing your Pre-Cana and performing the ceremony. I’ll be transferring in the morning.”
“Transfer? They’re sending you away?” Talk about being cast out—I’m sure my consequences look like nothing compared to his.
“No, I want to go. I can’t be here while ...” His eyes grow glossy as he stares toward the cross on the top of the steeple. “I can’t be here while you are.”
I look over my shoulder at the symbol he’s focusing on and then back at him, spinning my engagement ring around my finger over and over again.
“I’m leaving tonight for New York. Hunter and I—I don’t think we’re gonna make it.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry,” he says, sounding concerned. He looks up at me, his face filled with compassion and regret.
“Hey, don’t be. It has very little to do with you. Really.”
Well, it has something to do with him or at least the way I feel about him and the contrast it’s provided to my relationship with Hunter, opening my eyes to its flaws.
“That’s sad to hear. You know I wish you the best, either way.” He gives a little bow and a smile I know he doesn’t mean. One minute he’s leaving town because I’m too tempting or whatever, and then the next he’s wishing me well in my possible future marriage. I can’t keep up with it all.
“I don’t blame you for your feelings,” I explain, frustrated with him in a way that’s hard to pinpoint. “I have them, too, and you’re right—it all feels ... irresistible when we’re together,” I disclose, so exasperated that I don’t recognize the importance of us both acknowledging our feelings for each other. “So, I agree—that means we have to stay far apart, but you don’t have to be so goddamn magnanimous about it all.”
A car with aUilluminated in the window pulls up to the curb. Thank God, my ride is here. I left all my belongings including my rental car key at the hotel. I’ll have Conrad pack it up and mail it. For now, I have my wallet and my phone, and that’s all I need. No way I’m going back to that place and risking being surreptitiously filmed again.
I stand, wobbling as blood returns to my legs and feet.
“I gotta go. I wish you well too, Patrick.” I make it to the second-to-bottom stair just above where he’s planted. He doesn’t step aside, and he doesn’t look away. In this position, we’re close to equal height, and he has to look me in the eye.
“Hold on. Please. Let me explain.” His cheeks are a bright pink from the cold and his eyes red rimmed like he’s spent the day crying. I should leave; it’s safer for us both.
But I don’t.
“Go ahead.”
“All right,” he says, and then continues, labored, like he’s fighting off a muzzle. “I wanted to tell you to leave Hunter,” he says, uttering Hunter’s name like it’s a dirty word, his breath touching my cheek with each word, “and I want to go back in time to a place where I had a right to offer you all the things you deserve.” He scrutinizes me between each statement, his assessment feeling like a caress. “Do you really think I don’t dream of waking up next to you? It haunts me, that thought.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I melt at his tender touch. “My vows have never felt heavy. But now they’re like chains that keep me underwater when all I want to do is breathe you in—your mind and soul and, God curse me, your hair, your lips, your embrace ...”
I bite my lower lip when he mentions them and then tilt toward him, our bodies practically touching.
“I’m sorry I haunt you,” I kid, touching his cheek. A rumbling sound comes from deep in his throat, and I hate how it builds my longing for all the things he listed.
“I wish things were different,” I say, fighting the urge to give in to temptation and press my mouth against his, let his arms take me in, his fingers grasp at my back, pulling me into his chest so tightly I can’t breathe.
“Me too,” he says, watching my lips, fighting the same demons that I am.
