Matthew offered a crooked smile. Something half-guilty, half-boyish, and completely endearing. “Ah, well. Some might say that’s just the mark of a man who knows who he is already, sinner or not. It’s those of us who actually worry about our mortal souls that you probably have to be wary of.”
He was trying to be light, but as soon as he said it, a heaviness settled atop his broad shoulders. I was reminded once more of just how hard he was on himself. That for all his accomplishments, all the good he had done in the world, Matthew really did think worse of himself than just about anyone.
Another thought occurred to me.
“Did you confess?” I asked after a moment. “After—after that night in September? When you—when you came to see me at the station?”
He was quiet for a while before answering, staring down at his clasped hands like he thought they might hold the answer there. He almost looked like he might start praying again.
“I did,” he said finally. “And then I didn’t go to Mass for a while because I didn’t think I was, um, clean enough to receive the sacrament, if you want to know the truth. I didn’t think I’d served my penance, no matter what the priest said. It was—” He sighed. “It was the worst when you were sentenced. When the papers reported that you were in Rikers. I about lost my mind when that happened, Nina. Especially knowing that if I came anywhere near you, I’d make things so much worse for both of us. It killed me.”
My heart twisted, imagining him in that state. So riddled with guilt over us that he couldn’t even manage his most essential functions. Turning himself into a chimney of all things just to cope.
Well, I had been in a state myself too.
“So, then what did you do?” I asked. “Besides smoking, of course?”
If he heard the joke in my voice, he ignored it.
“I just…prayed,” he said simply. “And maybe tried to drown my sorrows in a bit too much liquor. But mostly I just prayed to God to forgive me for what I’d done. He gave me a woman to love, and I betrayed her. It’s the greatest blasphemy.”
I bit my lip. “You sound like a priest when you talk like that.”
That crooked smile returned. “There’s no other word for it that I can think of. I look at you, and I know it’s true. Real love is holy. Sacred.”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
“Would you—would you have asked me to convert?” The question toppled out of my mouth like rocks thrown off a bridge, clumsy and harsh. “If we had ever…”
I trailed off. For some reason I really didn’t like talking about the dreams we had once shared. Especially if they could never be. The idea of myself in an off-white dress, placing a ring on Matthew’s hand, him sliding one onto mine. In a place like this, it was a little too potent.
Matthew watched me carefully. I held my breath. I was nervous. The truth is, despite having baptized Olivia Catholic, I had never had any intention of joining the church myself. I wasn’t even sure I believed in God.
But what if Matthew said yes? What then?
“I won’t lie,” he said. “If I had gotten married before, it probably would have been in a church. Maybe one like this. But then again, I never really saw myself getting married in the first place.”
My heart sank.
“Before I met you, that is.”
I tried and failed to ignore the great thump in my chest.
“To be honest…” Matthew reached out tentatively to take my hand and cradled it in his much larger ones. “I doubt God really cares about where we get married. I think He just cares if we honor the gifts He gives us. Do our best to be worthy of them. One day,” he said in a voice that was suddenly haggard. “If you’ll let me. I’ll be worthy of you again, Nina. I promise you that.”
But you already are, I wanted to say and discovered I believed it.
As if he could hear me, Matthew looked up. His dark green eyes were large and open, as if inviting me to search for any trace of deceit. There was none. Nothing but love. And hope.
And in my heart, I found that I had forgiven him at last. A great weight lifted from my shoulders that I hadn’t even known I was carrying, and my chest felt full of light, as if the rays through the windows were penetrating the darkest parts of me and illuminating me with this man’s love.
“Matthew,” I whispered. “Do you think your God would be angry if I kissed you? Right here in this church?”
The crooked smile returned, then morphed quickly into a full grin. He slipped his fingers around my neck and pulled me close, touching his forehead to mine. I inhaled his lovely, masculine scent.
“Probably not,” he said as our lips hovered only a breath apart. “Considering I just asked Him for exactly that.”
“You did not.”
“I swear on His name, I did, baby. And who am I to turn away His gifts?”
And then he kissed me, tame and quick, lips meeting softly, yet with enough vigor that I sighed with relief. His mouth curled into a smile against mine at the sound.
“Finally,” he concurred. “The priest, though, probably isn’t too happy with us.”
“Oh!” I tried to break away, all too aware now of a soutane-clad man lurking around the altar, casting disapproving looks through a pair of smudged glasses.
But Matthew turned my face back to his.
“Hold on there, duchess,” he murmured before stealing another kiss. “Sure, the priest might not like it. But you know, I’m not sure I care.”
Chapter Twelve
Matthew
We meandered through the towns for
