I knew I only had myself to blame, but it still didn’t feel good.
I went in to my room and began to strip off for bed. The sound of a knock at the communicating door stopped me dead. I crossed the floor in three strides and fumbled with the handle, yanking the door open with a tentative smile. But Aidan’s stubborn expression torpedoed any hope I’d had.
“Are you going to tell me what happened with your father?”
No preamble, just a swift, straight kick to the balls. “No,” I said, the word flying out from my lips as a return punch.
“Then I don’t want you with me on Sunday.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I was still a murderer when I sucked your dick,” I told him. Something in me wanted to hurt him, to make him tuck his tail between his legs.
He raised his chin. “That’s not the reason I’m doing this. It doesn’tmatterto me what you’ve done in the past. That’s my point.”
My fingers curled hard around the door. I wanted to slam it in his face. “Yeah? Well it fucking should, Priest Boy.” Thatdidhurt him, the derogatory tone I used as I threw Mr. D’s nickname at him. “You don’t want me with you, fine. You can have one of the Donovan boys.”
He gave one jerking nod of his head and turned his back on me. “You might as well lock that door again,” he said without even glancing at me over his shoulder.
I really did slam the door then, hard, and I hoped like hell it made him jump.
And that the sound of the key turning in the lock made it clear how little I cared.
Chapter Forty
Aidan
On Saturday night, after avoiding Teo most of the day, I dragged myself up to the attic to pray, to read scripture, to meditate, but I couldn’t keep my mind focused. I’d received dispensation from the Archbishop to remain at Hillview that night, rather than spending it in prayer and contemplation with the group of brothers who would be ordained with me tomorrow, but part of me wished I was there with them. Part of me longed to go back to New York, to pretend none of the last week had happened.
And another part merely longed for Teo.
The words of the rosary spilled out of my mouth with regularity, but my thoughts were not at peace.
I could not have TeoandGod. More than once I found myself repeating the words of Christ himself, “If you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done."
Then I felt sinful to even repeat those words.
What should have been a simple decision—not even aquestion, to choose between Teo or God—was still giving me pause. When had I become so hesitant, so unsure? But even if I didnotgo through with my ordination, a thought that filled me with misery, I could still not see a way to serve God and be with Teo at the same time. Not if Teo refused to be reconciled to God.
It was almost a relief when I heard a familiar, heavy tread on the stairs behind me. I put down the rosary, got to my feet, and turned around.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Teo said, his voice rough but quiet. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. Or maybe I was just projecting, since that had been my fate. He was holding a box in his hands, and for a wild moment I thought it was a present for me, to apologize, to make up. But he didn’t offer it to me.
“You didn’t interrupt,” I told him. “Not really. I can’t keep my mind where it needs to be.” I stared at him, trying to make sense of my feelings.
“I’m sorry if that’s my fault,” he said, and he sounded so sincere that all my confused anger died away.
“It’s not. It’s mine.”
He came toward me with a tentative, light step. “Aidan,” he said.
I choked out a sound and he paused. “Please don’t,” I whispered. I wasn’t even sure what I meant. Don’t speak? Don’t touch me? He was poised there with his hands out towards me, reaching for mine, but he dropped them when I spoke. “What do you want?”
“Your ordination robes were delivered today.” Then and only then did he hold out the box.
I took it from him and laid it on the small table under the window. Teo stood opposite me at the table as I lifted the lid, and I gave a quite exclamation of awe when the pure white of the robes were revealed, shining in the soft moonlight that streamed through the window. I picked the garment up and out of the box, shaking the folds down.
