“Please, Claire? Just this once …bestie?” he adds, and he knows he has me up against the ropes after that.
“I can’t believe I walked right into this,” I grumble, grabbing my jacket from the back seat.
He beams at me before he hurries around to the other side and opens my door, and he seems completely undeterred by my side-eyed warning as he leads me forward with his hand on the small of my back. And I’m afraid this gesture means way more to him than I could have guessed.
I mime his actions when he dips a fingerin Holy Water and crosses himself, and again when he kneels before ushering me into the pew. I glance around, noticing all the variation in everyone’s attire, and I honestly don’t feel as out of place as predicted.
Rowan hands me an open missal to follow along and gives me a cue each time we transition from standing to kneeling or sitting, and I think I manage to blend in well enough.
There’s plenty going on between the ringing bells and burning incense, especially with all the babies and children making themselves heard.
“So the kids stay the whole time?” I ask him at one point, and he nods and grins.
“Of course. Jesus is here—body, blood, soul, and divinity. We’re all receiving grace from being in His presence,” he replies, gesturing to the altar, and I make a mental list of additional questions to ask later.
Then Rowan leans over to whisper, “This is the best part,” just before the priest lifts the host in the air and starts singing in Latin, and I can’t help but smile at his all-around adorableness. And when he lingers a second too long after leaning in to kiss my cheek for the sign of peace, I have to bite my lip to keep myself from simpering like a silly teenage girl.
“What?” I ask when I catch him staring at me after he returns from communion.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head and smirking, and I let out an exhale as I force my attention back to the gorgeous paintings in each section of the vaulted ceilings.
“Are you … praying?” he whispers.
I scoff and elbow him. “You’re not supposed to ask me something like that,” I scold him, but he’s still smiling. “But, no, I was just admiring the architecture.”
He nods knowingly. “Sure you were.”
I click my tongue, and he laughs softly.
“Were you praying for me by any chance?” he inclines his head to add quietly.
“No, but maybe Ishouldpray for you … to quit annoying me,” I mumble.
“I pray for you, you know, every time I think of you. So, basically, all the time,” he continues, and I swallow hard. I don’t know why it makes my stomach dip, but it does.
“Aren’t we supposed to be silent right now?” I return in a harsh whisper.
He grins. “Sorry. Do continue.”
I roll my eyes again, and he stifles another laugh.
I’m starting to worry Rowan’s face might crack by the time Mass ends and we make it back to his truck. And as much as I don’t want to ruin this for him, I’m not sure I can take much more of his open adoration.
“Okay, what is your deal?” I demand after catching him staring for the umpteenth time today.
“Nothing,” he repeats, and he continues gazing at me for a bit longer before he finally shakes his head and moves to crank the truck.
“Seriously, did I do something wrong back there?”
He shakes his head again. “No, it’s just … never mind.”
“Now you have to tell me,” I whine.
He releases a loud exhale before eying me carefully. “Fine. You were right before.”
“About what?”
“I do like seeing you on your knees,” he drawls, and my lips part in a gasp as a wave of heat runs through me.
