“You didn’t upset me,” she finally found her words. “I’m touched.”
Then suddenly confusion furrowed her brow. “How did you hear me though? I was in the other room…”
A chill ran down Anatoly’s spine and he finally found the strength to slip his hand back to his side of the table. “Church is old building. It has strange acoustics.” He had no choice but to lie. Even if he wanted to confide his secret with her, he couldn’t do it in a crowded restaurant.
She shifted on her chair and a gleam of metal caught his eye, drawing it to the silver crucifix at her throat. Shame washed over him at the reminder of his vows, of his role as a man of the cloth. He should not have been sitting here at all and yet he’d come without hesitation, leaving his duties behind in order to rescue the woman that in just a matter of days had shifted his steadfast priorities.
When he dared to glance at her face, he saw concern there. Had she said something and he missed it?
Now it was her turn to bridge the divide and lay her hand over his. Maggie’s warmth was like a lifeline in the storm, a tether grounding him to the shore. These feelings might be new and strange, but they weren’t wrong. She was changing him and he was certain it had to be for the better.
“Anatoly? Are you okay?” Her words washed over him, finally registering and he mentally shook himself back to the moment.
“Da, I am fine,” the priest replied, smiling gently at her. “I did not mean to drift away. Sometimes my thoughts have way of running wild. Especially when in presence of very enchanting woman…”
“Maggie! I’m so sorry I’m late!”
The sound of a man’s voice from behind made Anatoly jump. He snatched his hand off the table and into his lap like a boy caught stealing from the cookie jar.
Meanwhile, Maggie audibly cleared her throat and offered a smile to the newcomer. “Desmond, glad you could make it,” she said, sounding far too pleased to see him for Anatoly’s tastes.
Jealousy was not an emotion he was used to experiencing and in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the cloying, queasy sensation stir to life in his gut. He immediately stood up, certain it was time for him to leave. Not forgetting his manners, he hurried to introduce himself, offering his hand to the man named Desmond.
“Dobryy vecher, I am Father Anatoly. I ran into Maggie and wanted to say hello,” he explained, guilt wedging itself in his chest at having told yet another lie. He shook hands with Desmond, but quickly pulled away and started toward the door.
“Wait, Anatoly,” her voice nearly stopped him. “Do you want to join us?”
For the first time since meeting her, he felt the need to put space between Maggie and himself. He immediately shook his head. “I will not keep you from date, Detective, do svidaniya.” Anatoly waved over his shoulder and didn’t look back lest his resolve fail him.
Chapter Sixteen
Just as quickly as he had come, Anatoly was gone again. Maggie stared at the door where he had disappeared, heart in her throat, feeling as though something had shifted between her and the priest.
She almost stood up to go after him, but Desmond had already sat down across from her. He seemed intent on starting their dinner even though he was well over forty minutes late by now.
“I didn’t realize you were Catholic,” Desmond was saying, indicating her necklace by inclining his head. “Weird for a priest to be here though, isn’t it? This is kind of a lover’s dive, it’s why I suggested it. Very romantic.”
Did this guy ever shut up? Maggie gave him a tight smile, her gaze flicking from him to the door again. Could she still catch Anatoly if she left now?
“I’m not,” she corrected, her jaw tightening. “He’s just a friend.” The words came out too defensive, but she didn’t bother apologizing for it.
“Cool, I have loads of priest friends.” Desmond laughed at his own joke and motioned to the waitress. “I could never understand the whole celibate thing, am I right? Only men I know who don’t have sex with women are gay or have tiny dicks.” He was still guffawing, an obnoxious, tittering sound, when the waitress arrived.
No doubt she had heard the tail end of his uncouth comment. She and Maggie exchanged a look before she offered a tight smile. “Are you two ready to order?”
Maggie started to shake her head, but he spoke over her without even glancing in her direction. “Well, unless my date has to rush out again, she’ll have?—”
“Oh, hell no,” Maggie interrupted him, pushing her chair out so she could stand without knocking it or the table over in her rush to get to her feet. “Look, this was a mistake. I thought I needed to do this to find myself or some shit, but I’m not going to sit here while you order for me like a child. I’m a big girl, okay?” She passed a hundred dollar bill to the waitress as she finished saying her piece. “Keep the change, dear.”
Desmond was sputtering in his seat. “You’re leaving again?”
“You were forty minutes late, my guy. I’d have already been gone had I not run into my friend, who is twice the man you could ever hope to become, by the way.” Maggie was not going to take his shit, especially not when it came to the sweet, kind soul that was Anatoly.
“Lose my number,” she threw over her shoulder on the way out.
Maggie hurried outside, but when she got there, Anatoly was long gone.
In the time Maggie drove from the restaurant back to her apartment, she had received no less than twenty-three text messages from Desmond. She scanned the first couple, determined he had nothing worthwhile to say, and blocked his ass.
