Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his voice low, vibrating through his chest. His body feels like home—warm and solid. Relief.
I close my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him, something earthy and comforting. I don’t want to let go. We stand there for what feels like an eternity, just holding each other, both of us finding comfort in the other's presence. For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just us.
“I missed you too,” I finally say, my voice softer than I intended, but it’s the truth. Being here with him, feeling the strength of his arms around me, makes me realize how much I crave this, how much I’ve been holding it all together for Nate’s sake. But right now, I don’t want to be strong. I just want him.
Benedict pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on my shoulders, his gaze meeting mine. There’s something in his eyes, a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “I won’t stay long. I know you’ve got Nate here,” he says, though his voice betrays a reluctance to leave. “But I just wanted to come by, make sure everything was okay.”
A small smile tugs at my lips as I look up at him. He’s always so thoughtful, always checking in, making sure I’m okay—even when I try to convince myself I don’t need anyone. “He’s sleeping,” I say, glancing toward Nate’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling into the hallway. “Do you want a drink?” I offer, not ready for him to leave just yet.
He hesitates for a second, his eyes scanning my face as if weighing his options. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his hand lingers on my arm. He wants to stay. And I want him to.
“I’d love one,” he says, his voice quieter now, more intimate. There’s a tension between us, something unspoken but undeniable, and I feel it in the air as I lead him to the kitchen.
The kitchen feels cozy, and the quiet stillness of the apartment wraps around us like a blanket. I pull out two glasses, pouring us both a drink, and we settle at the counter, the silence between us comfortable, but charged with something more.
“Thank you for stopping by,” I start, not really sure what to say to him. I know what I want to say to him. I want to tell him I’m falling for him. How I don’t want him to leave me, ever. “Do you regret it?” I ask him, wanting to face the elephant in the room head on.
“What?” he whispers, shaking his head.
“Do you regret sleeping with me?”
“No.” His eyes are wide, like he’s panicking at the thought I could even ask this question. “I’d never regret someone like you, Eva. You’re,” he moves closer to me, his hands cupping my face, “everything to me. Before I met you my life was black and gray, and now it’s full of color. You have to believe me. I’d never regret being with you. You’re mine.”
The way he says mine it’s almost primal. Like otherworldly.
“Yeah, but we can’t ever do that again. You’re a priest…” I don’t finish my thought as I break free from his hold and pace the kitchen.
He shakes his head, staring at the floor, his voice low and rough. "What if I wasn’t a priest?"
The weight of his words hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my breath hitch. Clear shock is written all over my face as I struggle to process what he’s saying. "I can’t ask you to give up your faith," I whisper, my eyes locking with his, searching for some explanation, some reason behind his sudden confession. The thought of him turning his back on something so central to who he is—it’s unthinkable.
But his eyes darken with a fierce intensity, and he takes a step closer. "What if I wouldn’t be giving it up?"
"What?" I ask, utterly confused, my heart pounding in my chest. What does that even mean? How could he not give up being a priest but still be with me? Before I can ask him to explain, Nate interrupts us.
“I had a bad dream,” Nate says, padding into the room, clutching his favorite stuffed teddy bear tight to his chest. His eyes are wide and sleepy, his small feet making soft shuffling sounds as he moves closer to me. “Father, what are you doing here?”
Benedict’s whole demeanor softens in an instant, and the conflict that was simmering between us fades, if only for a moment. He crouches down, meeting Nate’s eye level, his voice gentle and full of warmth. "I just came to check on you and your mommy." He turns to look at me, and for a brief second, the weight of everything unsaid passes between us like a storm cloud. Then he shifts back to Nate, his expression tender. "I’ll get out of your way now. Thanks for the drink."