Page 25 of Midnight Mass (Priest 1.50)
She shook her head. “Give me a moment, Tyler.”
I fell silent.
She took a deep breath. She was still completely naked, but it no longer mattered, because a distance was slowly settling in her eyes, along with a cold, elegant posture and a composed press of her lips—she wore an invisible armor that did far more to separate us than clothes ever could.
I tried again, desperate to keep this chasm from opening wider. “I’m so sorry, lamb. I thought you wanted it—”
“Give me a fucking minute!” Her voice started out quiet and collected, but then quickly escalated into a quavering yell, which reverberated against the studio floors and walls and also inside of my chest. She glanced away, breathing out and breathing in again. Then she turned back to me. “I did want it,” she said, calmer now. “And I wanted it like that. Rough and hard. Please trust me when I tell you what I want, and please trust me to tell you to stop if I need it. I’m frankly tired of having to give you explicit permission every single time we do something kinkier than kiss. I like being fucked that way, and tonight was no exception.”
“But you don’t know what I was thinking when I was fucking you—”
She let out a long breath, her jaw setting. “I knew exactly what you were thinking. I saw Anton too.”
Oh shit.
“Poppy…” She didn’t interrupt me, but I still stopped, because what could I say?
“The thing is, I didn’t mind it. I thought it was kind of sexy, actually. You fucking me while he watched. And you want to know why?”
Please don’t say it’s because you find him attractive. Please don’t say it’s because you want him.
“He’s gay, Tyler. He was watching because he finds you impossibly sexy, and watching you fuck me is the closest he’ll ever come to fucking you himself, so I imagine it made his night. It’s hot to me because I love it when anybody—man or woman—notices how sexy my Father Bell is.”
My mouth was dry and my mind whirled with this new information. “I don’t understand,” I said, blinking a little. “Anton’s gay?”
“Gay,” Poppy confirmed. “And has had a massive crush on you since he met you a couple years ago. He asked me not to tell you, because it’s obviously embarrassing for him, and I am violating that request now because I am so sick of you being jealous over nothing.”
“I just…I didn’t know…” I felt like such an idiot, wasting so much time being jealous and angry. Over nothing.
Poppy bent down to get her bra and dress off the floor, and her movements were jerky and stilted, and I realized that Anton was not the issue here, at least not for her.
“What is it?” I asked, hoping against hope that she would tell me and not storm out.
She straightened up, fastening her bra and not looking at me. “This usually works,” she said, and her voice sounded choked. “We fight and we screw and then everything is fine. I thought it would work tonight—I thought this is what I needed to feel better. To have you use me, to have you make me come. But it’s not better right now.”
“Because of the gala?”
“Because of everything. When we met, you were a priest and so you were putting everyone first, never thinking about yourself or what you needed. And I was so proud to be the woman who could coax selfishness out of you, who could coax you to take what you wanted.”
I knew immediately what she was saying. “I never meant to put myself first tonight, Poppy. It was Professor Morales and her baby, and please, lamb—”
She was shaking her head, her hands trembling as she put her dress back on, barely able to manage the zipper but stepping away when I tried to help. “It’s not just tonight, Tyler. It’s been this entire year, and I can’t any more. I asked you for one thing—for one time. I asked you for tonight, because even though you’ve been a ghost all this year, I thought maybe if you came tonight and saw everything I’ve worked so hard for, that it would make up for it all. But now I think it wouldn’t have, no matter what you did or didn’t do.”
I reached for her and I didn’t let her wriggle away this time, keeping her shoulders tight in my hands and searching her face. “Tell me how to fix this,” I pleaded. “I know I’ve fucked up and I keep fucking up, but things can get better. They will get better—my dissertation defense is this week and then all this craziness will be over.”
“You really think it will make a difference?” she snapped. “You think you’ll be able to magically throw yourself back into being a husband?”
I was almost speechless. “Of course, Poppy. This is just a season!”
“Don’t give me that ‘season’ bullshit. You know what I think? I think that you will always be chasing after the next thing, the next vocation, the next escape. First a priest…then a scholar…don’t you see that you’re doing everything you can to hide from being just Tyler Bell, a person and not a title?”
“That’s not fair,” I protested, sputtering. “I don’t use jobs to hide from anything!”
“I need you to be a part of my life, and I’m not sure that you’re capable of that anymore,” she continued, not listening to me. “I’m beginning to think that you just want to be alone.”
“Jesus Christ, Poppy. No. A thousand times no, that is not what I want! I want you!”
“Then why won’t you stand by my side when I need you?” Tears streamed down her face. “Why do I have to eat alone, go to sleep alone, put up Christmas trees alone? This was supposed to be the beginning of our new chapter, this was supposed to be our next big moment—”
