Chapter 32

Evangelina

As I watch Nate clear his dinner plate and set it carefully on the kitchen counter, a warmth swells in my chest. His little legs shuffle back and forth with such determination, and I can’t help but smile at the sight.

"Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" I say, my voice soft but full of meaning.

He turns to me, his face lighting up with pure happiness. "No, what's proud?"

I cross the room, bending down on my haunches so I’m eye-level with him. I want him to really understand this, to feel it. "It means that you did something that makes me so happy. A kind of happy that you feel right here." I gently touch his small chest, my fingers resting where his heart beats steadily. "A kind of happy that warms up your heart."

He blinks, his brow furrowing as he tries to process my words. "I did something to make you happy like that?"

I laugh softly, touched by the innocence in his voice. "Yes, sweetheart. You cleared your dinner plate without me even having to ask. That makes me so proud of you."

His little face scrunches in thought, and then his next words break my heart a little. "Well, at Daddy’s place they get mad at me if I don’t clear my plate. But they don’t smile when I do."

The happiness in my chest dims for a moment, replaced with an ache I can’t quite describe. I pull him into a hug, his small body pressing against mine as I hold him close. I kiss the top of his head and rub his back, wanting him to feel the love and comfort in this moment, even if words can’t explain it all.

"Well, here, I’m always going to smile when you do things that make me proud. And it’s not just about clearing your plate, okay? It’s about being the sweet, thoughtful boy that you are." I pull back slightly, meeting his big, earnest eyes. "I love you so much, Nate. Always."

His arms wrap around my neck, hugging me tightly, and for a brief moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Now let's get you ready for bed," I say with a warm smile, gently brushing a lock of hair away from Nate's forehead. He nods, yawning, and together we go through our familiar bedtime routine. I help him into the bath, the water splashing lightly as he plays with his favorite toys, his laughter bubbling up in the small bathroom. Afterward, we brush his teeth, his little hands clumsily guiding the toothbrush while I help him.

"You're doing great," I say, and he grins through a mouthful of bubbles.

Once he's all clean and snug in his pajamas, I tuck him into bed with his favorite storybook. He insists on hearing the same tale every time he’s here, and I don’t mind. There's something comforting in the repetition, the way his eyes grow heavy with each familiar word. By the time I reach the final page, his breathing has deepened, his little chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. I gently kiss his forehead, smoothing the covers around him, my heart full of love.

I tiptoe out of his room, leaving the door cracked just enough to let a sliver of light from his nightlight seep into the hallway. As I make my way to the kitchen, the silence of the apartment feels heavier. I tidy up the dishes, wiping down the counters, but my mind is far away. I love having Nate here—his laughter, his energy. The apartment feels alive when he’s with me. I wish I could always have him here, full-time, where he belongs.

But then there's that ache again. The one that comes when he has to leave, when I hand him back to Christopher, wondering what kind of life he’s leading at his father’s house.

I’m lost in thought when a light knock at the door snaps me back to the present. My body tenses, a wave of unease rippling through me. My first thought, as always, is Christopher. What if he’s here, lurking outside my door? He wouldn’t hurt me with Nate in the apartment, would he?

My heart races as I move cautiously toward the door, standing just on the other side. My fingers hover over the handle, wishing desperately for a peephole. "Who’s there?" I call out, trying to keep my voice steady, though the nerves slip through.

"It’s Benedict." His familiar voice instantly washes away the tension.

Relief floods through me, and I quickly unlock the door, opening it wide. Benedict stands there, his presence a welcome sight, his expression calm but concerned.

"I just came to check on the two of you," he says, his voice soft as he steps inside.

I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my face. "Come in," I say, shutting the door behind him, my heart settling for the first time in what feels like hours.

He wraps me into a hug, his strong arms pulling me close, and my body nearly sags into him. It's like everything inside me, all the worry and tension, melts away the moment I’m pressed against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, and it grounds me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his voice low, vibrating through his chest. His body feels like home—warm and solid. Relief.

I close my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him, something earthy and comforting. I don’t want to let go. We stand there for what feels like an eternity, just holding each other, both of us finding comfort in the other's presence. For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just us.

“I missed you too,” I finally say, my voice softer than I intended, but it’s the truth. Being here with him, feeling the strength of his arms around me, makes me realize how much I crave this, how much I’ve been holding it all together for Nate’s sake. But right now, I don’t want to be strong. I just want him.

Benedict pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on my shoulders, his gaze meeting mine. There’s something in his eyes, a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “I won’t stay long. I know you’ve got Nate here,” he says, though his voice betrays a reluctance to leave. “But I just wanted to come by, make sure everything was okay.”

A small smile tugs at my lips as I look up at him. He’s always so thoughtful, always checking in, making sure I’m okay—even when I try to convince myself I don’t need anyone. “He’s sleeping,” I say, glancing toward Nate’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling into the hallway. “Do you want a drink?” I offer, not ready for him to leave just yet.

He hesitates for a second, his eyes scanning my face as if weighing his options. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his hand lingers on my arm. He wants to stay. And I want him to.

“I’d love one,” he says, his voice quieter now, more intimate. There’s a tension between us, something unspoken but undeniable, and I feel it in the air as I lead him to the kitchen.

The kitchen feels cozy, and the quiet stillness of the apartment wraps around us like a blanket. I pull out two glasses, pouring us both a drink, and we settle at the counter, the silence between us comfortable, but charged with something more.

“Thank you for stopping by,” I start, not really sure what to say to him. I know what I want to say to him. I want to tell him I’m falling for him. How I don’t want him to leave me, ever. “Do you regret it?” I ask him, wanting to face the elephant in the room head on.

“What?” he whispers, shaking his head.

“Do you regret sleeping with me?”

“No.” His eyes are wide, like he’s panicking at the thought I could even ask this question. “I’d never regret someone like you, Eva. You’re,” he moves closer to me, his hands cupping my face, “everything to me. Before I met you my life was black and gray, and now it’s full of color. You have to believe me. I’d never regret being with you. You’re mine .”

The way he says mine it’s almost primal. Like otherworldly.

“Yeah, but we can’t ever do that again. You’re a priest…” I don’t finish my thought as I break free from his hold and pace the kitchen.

He shakes his head, staring at the floor, his voice low and rough. "What if I wasn’t a priest?"

The weight of his words hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my breath hitch. Clear shock is written all over my face as I struggle to process what he’s saying. "I can’t ask you to give up your faith," I whisper, my eyes locking with his, searching for some explanation, some reason behind his sudden confession. The thought of him turning his back on something so central to who he is—it’s unthinkable.

But his eyes darken with a fierce intensity, and he takes a step closer. "What if I wouldn’t be giving it up?"

"What?" I ask, utterly confused, my heart pounding in my chest. What does that even mean? How could he not give up being a priest but still be with me? Before I can ask him to explain, Nate interrupts us.

“I had a bad dream,” Nate says, padding into the room, clutching his favorite stuffed teddy bear tight to his chest. His eyes are wide and sleepy, his small feet making soft shuffling sounds as he moves closer to me. “Father, what are you doing here?”

Benedict’s whole demeanor softens in an instant, and the conflict that was simmering between us fades, if only for a moment. He crouches down, meeting Nate’s eye level, his voice gentle and full of warmth. "I just came to check on you and your mommy." He turns to look at me, and for a brief second, the weight of everything unsaid passes between us like a storm cloud. Then he shifts back to Nate, his expression tender. "I’ll get out of your way now. Thanks for the drink."

Before he stands, he places a hand on Nate’s shoulder, his eyes steady and filled with something I can’t quite name. "Take good care of your mother for me, okay?"

Nate’s face lights up with a proud little smile. "I will."

Benedict smiles softly in return, a trace of sadness flickering behind his eyes. "Whatever your bad dream was about, just know I won’t let anything happen to you or your mother, okay?"

Nate nods, reassured, and Benedict rises to his full height. His gaze lingers on me, heavy with all the things we left unsaid, before he turns and quietly leaves the apartment. The door clicks shut behind him, but the air still feels thick with his presence, the words he spoke hanging in the silence.

I pull Nate into my arms and take him to my bed, tucking him in beside me. But sleep is the furthest thing from my mind as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what on earth Benedict could have meant. His words keep echoing in my head, twisting my thoughts into knots. How could he not give up his faith and still have me?

Unless… he plans to keep me a secret.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and my stomach twists with unease. Is that what he meant? That he would hide me, us, from the church, from the world? Keep our love locked away in the shadows?

I don’t know how I feel about that. I want him—God, how I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my entire life. But not like this. Not in secret. I want to be able to hold his hand as we take my son to church. I want to walk through the grocery store with him, picking out vegetables, laughing about something silly. I want to kiss him in public when the mood strikes, to share a life together out in the open.

I want a life with Benedict. And deep down, I know it’s the one thing he can’t give me.

Tears blur my vision and spill down my cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable. My heart aches with the bitter realization that this—whatever this is—might be coming to an end. An inevitable end. Because as much as I want him, and as much as he wants me, some things can’t be fixed. Some choices can’t be undone.

And I’m terrified that we’ve already run out of time.

“I think you look great,” I say, adjusting the tiny collar of Nate’s Sunday shirt as he fidgets in front of me. His bright eyes sparkle with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. He twirls in place, showing off his neatly tucked shirt and freshly combed hair. "Do I look like Daddy?"

I force a smile, though my stomach churns at the mention of Christopher. “You look better than Daddy,” I say softly, smoothing down his hair one last time. He grins up at me, a proud, gap-toothed smile that melts my heart. But underneath the warmth I feel for my son, there’s a tidal wave of anxiety crashing through me, threatening to sweep me away.

It’s Sunday morning, and the thought of going to church today has my nerves frayed. Ever since I saw Benedict on Friday night—since that moment where he practically shook the foundation of my world with those words— What if I wasn’t a priest? —I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. About us.

My hands tremble slightly as I finish fixing Nate’s little tie, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t let him see how rattled I am. But as much as I try to shove down my worries, they won’t stay buried. They just sit there, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on my chest like a weight I can’t shake.

Benedict and I haven’t spoken since that night. I haven’t reached out, and neither has he. It’s like we’re both standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to make the first move. And the longer I wait, the more the uncertainty gnaws at me. What if I go to church today and see him? What will I say? What if he acts like nothing’s changed, like Friday night didn’t happen?

Or worse—what if he doesn’t act like nothing’s changed? What if everything’s different now?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the tension lingers just beneath the surface. I can’t avoid him forever. And I certainly can’t avoid church. Not with Nate looking up at me like that, so eager to go.

“Mommy, can we sit in the front today?” Nate asks, tugging at the hem of my dress.

I blink, startled back to reality. “Uh, sure, sweetie,” I say, but my voice wavers. The front? Where Benedict will see us for sure?

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the present. It’s just church. It’s just Benedict. I repeat the words like a mantra, but they don’t help. Deep down, I know things will never be just anything with Benedict again. Everything is different now.

“Alright, buddy, grab your shoes. We’ve got to go,” I say, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel. Nate runs off to get his shoes, and I take a moment to lean against the counter, closing my eyes as I try to steel myself for the morning ahead.

The truth is, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I see him again. I don’t know if we can keep pretending that everything is the same when clearly, it’s not. I’m not sure I want to pretend anymore.

But what choice do I have?

The church is packed when we arrive, a sea of people moving like a current through the grand, echoing foyer. The scent of incense mingles with the crisp morning air, and the chatter of congregants fills the space with a low hum. At the front entrance, Sandy stands out like a beacon of warmth and cheer. She’s stationed there with a stack of programs, handing them out with a practiced flourish that suggests it’s her life's calling.

When she spots us, her face lights up with a smile so wide it could light up the darkest room. “Well, hello there!” she exclaims, her voice carrying over the din of the crowd. Her attention is immediately drawn to Nate, who is practically bouncing with excitement beside me.

Nate’s eyes twinkle as he looks up at Sandy. “Hi!” he chirps, holding out his hand eagerly. Sandy chuckles softly and hands him a program, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Such a big man escorting your mother to church,” Sandy says, her tone both admiring and playful.

Nate puffs out his chest a little, clearly proud of himself. “She said we can play in the park for a bit before I go back to my daddy’s house.”

Sandy raises her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Is that so?” she asks, her gaze moving between Nate and me with genuine interest.

Nate nods enthusiastically. “Yep.”

I manage a smile, but it feels strained as I approach Sandy. “Hi, Sandy,” I say, my voice slightly unsteady despite my efforts to sound casual. The nerves I’ve been trying to keep at bay begin to bubble up, threatening to surface.

Sandy’s smile softens as she looks at me, sensing the underlying tension. “Morning, Eva,” she says warmly. “Everything okay?”

I nod, though it feels like a weak gesture. “Yeah, just... a bit of a busy morning.”

Sandy gives me a reassuring look. “Well, you’re in the right place to get a little peace and perspective,” she says kindly. Her words are meant to comfort, and I appreciate the sentiment even as my mind races with the unspoken uncertainties of the day.

Nate tugs at my hand, drawing my attention back to him. He’s already eyeing the program with fascination, clearly ready for the next part of our Sunday routine. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anxious flutter in my chest. As we move forward into the church, I brace myself for what’s to come, knowing that today’s service might be more significant than just a routine visit.