“I’m a priest, but I’ll be the rector at the parish.”
“And that is where?”
“Near Grand Junction, Colorado.”
“Congratulations, sweetie. I’m proud of you. Annnnd?”
His smile widens. “We’re having a boy. Sonogram on Monday showed that.”
I squeeze his hands again. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
And I am. He looks damn good, happier than I ever remember him looking. He definitely doesn’t look like he’s old enough to be fifty-five.
Then again, having a wife twenty years his junior can help keep a guy young, I suppose. Laura’s super sweet. I got to see them when I flew out to LA to meet George when he returned from overseas. They drove in and met me at my hotel that night and we had dinner. To his credit, he was totally honest with her who I was to him, but since she apparently has the same dynamic with him I did, it wasn’t a problem.
I really do like her, and I really am happy for them both.
Ironically, she used to be a nun.
Funny how the world works, huh?
I release his hands and we both sit back as the waitress brings our beverages and we place our orders. Once we’re alone again, I study him. I suppose in another life I could’ve made him mine.
Except I wasn’t ready to do that, and, honestly, neither was he, at the time, even though he thought he was.
“How’s Declan doing?” he asks.
That’s…such a fricking loaded question I don’t know where to begin. “We’re good,” I say, hedging my answer a little. “He’s doing well. Hitting the general election campaign trail. Had an event today, actually. I left him there with George and came straight here.”
He smirks. “He still hasn’t talked you into marrying him, huh?”
“Not yet. I’m still a hold-out. Not marriage material, you know that.”
And he does. It was something we talked about, an idea he’d floated when he was still trying to figure out his own path, if he should accept the transfer, or maybe look at other options.
I shot him down.
Then he took the transfer, met Laura a couple of years ago, they both left the Catholic church, and his path was set.
Everything worked out the way it was supposed to.
Right?
It’s a coincidence he’s in town right now. An old friend of his, the gay priest, had to have heart surgery, and he flew in for that.
“About my inquiry…” I leave it hanging there. I feel a little opportunistic that this coincidental series of events led to the perfect opening for him to ask his friend something so…weird, but Benjamin knows a little of the background.
He glances around and drops his voice. “You heard correctly,” he says. His finger traces the woodgrain pattern on the table. “If you need an alibi…”
I shrug. “I don’t have a plan yet, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Which is a lie, because now that he has a baby on the way, no way in hell would I put him in jeopardy like that.
I’m an opportunist, and in some ways I suppose I am a monster, but I’m notthatkind of monster.
“I wonder how many others there were?” he posits. “That we don’t know about?”
“I don’t know.” I take a sip of my iced tea. “I don’t think I want to know, either, because there’s nothing I can do to help them now. I’m only worried about soothing one particular soul.”
We have a good dinner and talk for a while. I have missed him. Don’t get me wrong, I love Declan, and he can more than hold his own with me. But there’s a different tone to my conversations with Benjamin and always was, possibly because of his religious background, and possibly because he’s ten years older than me instead of fifteen years younger.
