Party Foul - Abby Knox Page 0,51

its tour boat launches and quaint shops. The financial district was quiet on Sundays except for this church. She herself wasn’t religious, and her family was vaguely Protestant if she could ever be bothered to analyze the family tree far enough back. But as a landmark, nothing beats a cathedral.

In that moment, shivering in her coat and walking with her regrettably heavy shopping bags, just as the sun was beginning to set, she realized she had never been inside that place. And she was beginning to feel like she was being watched again.

God, do Keith and his little soldiers ever let up?

She should call Roger and go home or to Levi’s apartment, she thought at first. But no. Not on Christmas Eve. Roger was with his family, no doubt, and Levi had to be at work soon. She should call a cab and then duck into Riverwalk Brew for coffee, her favorite spot.

But something pulled her in. She needed to sit in silence and figure out what to do. She turned and made eye contact with the presence that had been following her, and suddenly realized it was not one of Keith’s men after all. At least, she was pretty sure security folks didn’t carry a camera.

Dammit. That guy pretending to be from the Dispatch again.

She couldn’t call the cops, because he wasn’t doing anything illegal. But, a photographer couldn’t follow her into a church, could he? She wasn’t sure, but it was worth a shot.

The warm air of the entryway gave way to a slightly cooler open space of the main sanctuary. She wasn’t sure if that was the word for it, but that’s what she felt as soon as she walked through the sweeping arched entry. Quiet. Peaceful.

She slid into one of the benches and looked around. The photographer had indeed followed her. Only a handful of other people sat among the pews, as it was another hour or two before Christmas Eve services would begin.

Fiona would regret disrupting the silence of this place, but then she didn’t need to. A woman clan in black robes and a wimple approached the man.

“You cannot take photographs in here, young man. I’m going to have to ask you to hand over your camera or leave.”

Fiona sat facing straight ahead but overheard the entire exchange. After a few seconds, she heard disappearing footsteps. She turned. The nun nodded as her as she walked past her and approached the altar, bowing as she passed and headed into a side door in front of the choir loft.

The impression she got was that the nun had recognized her and was doing her part to get rid of the paparazzi.

Fiona, not used to this kind of compassion, let a tear slip from her eye and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do at this point, where to go. If she left to go anyway, the guy would still be there, waiting outside to continue following her. Intimidating her. Nevertheless, she reached for a pew envelope and stuffed some cash into it and sealed it, marking it “for the convent,” to make sure her donation went straight to the Franciscan nunnery.

There was still the matter of how to ditch the man outside. If she called Levi, he would come running, she knew it. And she couldn’t let him be late for work.

So she stayed put and decided to enjoy the moment of peace.

It was a peace she only felt when Levi was nearby. She was so grateful for her friend—a friend with benefits is still a friend. A friend with benefits that will soon be an honest-to-goodness boyfriend once you give him that necklace.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Levi

* * *

“Yes, my child?”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…12 years since my last confession.”

“Twelve years is a mighty long time to run away from the Lord, my son.”

Levi instantly recognized the voice of Father O’Brien. So the guy with his YaYa's direct line to God was going to find out all his dirty secrets.

“Father O’Brien, whaddaya doing here?”

“Oh, it’s a bit of a big night for the bishop, Christmas Eve. I’m just filling in here while he’s preparing his homily.”

Welp, the big man already knows anyway so here goes.

“Yes, Father. I gotta tell ya. I got my doubts about all this magical stuff. Y’know, the virgin birth and all that. But I feel like I gotta get some shit—sorry, some stuff, off my chest.”

“What is it you need to confess, my son?”

“It’s a girl.”

Right away, Levi