She looks up as I approach, and the smile that transforms her face makes my chest tight with emotions I’m still learning to name.
Love.
Gratitude.
Fierce protectiveness.
The knowledge that I’d choose her again and again, in every lifetime, in every possible world.
I kneel before her on the grass, my hands finding her hips, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. “I called Father Castellano.”
Her breath catches, her hand moving to rest on my shoulder. “And?”
“I chose you.” My voice cracks slightly. “I chose our family. I chose love over obligation.” I press my forehead against her rounded stomach, feeling the baby move beneath my touch. “I chose this,querida. All of it.”
Charlie’s hands thread through my hair, and I feel her body shake with sobs she’s trying to hold back. “Marcus.” My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a benediction. “Are you sure? You’re giving up so much.”
“I’m not giving up anything that matters.” I look up at her, at the tears streaming down her face, at the fierce love shining in her hazel eyes. “The priesthood was my past. You’re my future.”
She pulls me to my feet, her arms wrapping around me as much as her pregnant belly allows. I hold her carefully, reverently, breathing in the vanilla scent that’s become as necessary as air.
My hands slide down to cup her ass, pulling her closer, and I feel her gasp against my neck.
Even pregnant, even in the church garden where anyone could see, I want her with an intensity that hasn’t diminished.
“Te amo,” I murmur against her hair. “More than I thought possible.”
That evening, I gather with Adrian and Elijah in Adrian’s quarters. They’re waiting when I arrive, their faces carefully neutral, but their eyes holding questions they’re afraid to ask.
“I declined the ordination,” I say without preamble.
Adrian’s gray eyes hold mine, and I see something that looks like envy flicker across his face before he buries it. “You made the right choice.” His voice is rough. “The brave choice.”
“I’m proud of you,” Elijah adds, his eyes warm with understanding. “It takes courage to choose love over expectation.”
We discuss practicalities. I’ll need to find work outside the church, something that can support a family. It’s unfair to expect Charlie to work on her own at The Flour Pot.
We’ll need to figure out living arrangements for when the baby comes. Charlie’s small apartment above the rectory won’t be big enough for all of us, nor is it meant to be a long-term place. The logistics are daunting, but for the first time, they feel manageable.
“We’ll figure it out,” Adrian says, his hand finding my shoulder. “Together.”
Charlie appears in the doorway, her face flushed with excitement that makes her even more beautiful. Her dress hints at her fuller cleavage from pregnancy, and I watch Adrian’s gaze drop there before he forcesit back up. Even now, even with everything settled, we can’t stop wanting her.
“Maggie called,” Charlie says, her hazel eyes shining with hope and fear in equal measure. “From The Flour Pot. She wants to discuss something important tomorrow. Something about the bakery’s future and my role in it.”
51
CHARLIE
The Flour Pot smells divine when I arrive, full of butter and sugar and fresh bread.
My hands rest protectively on my rounded belly as I navigate between tables, five months pregnant and still getting used to this new center of gravity.
Maggie waves from the back office, her gray hair pulled into its usual practical bun, flour already dusting her apron despite the early hour.
“Charlie, come in.” Her smile is warm but there’s something nervous in her expression that makes my stomach clench. “Sit, please. You shouldn’t be on your feet too long.”
I lower myself into the chair across from her desk, my dress riding up slightly over my thighs.
