Hot Under His Collar - Andie J. Christopher Page 0,83

looked at her husband as though he’d lost his mind. Just then, Sasha noticed that she didn’t feel the stab of jealousy that she normally hated herself for when she looked at them. Maybe it was because what they had finally felt within reach. Or maybe somewhere along the way she’d let go of needing everything just so. Maybe, even if Patrick turned her down flat and decided to stay a priest, falling in love with him had changed something inside her.

Nah, it was probably just the therapy working.

There was a screech from the sound system that had them all swiveling their heads there. Over the speakers, Patrick’s gravelly voice made a nervous-sounding noise. Sasha didn’t hesitate to walk over to the area in front of the grandstand. She wasn’t afraid of looking at Patrick anymore.

Hannah and Jack followed her.

Patrick stood alone on the small stage. Even from a hundred feet away, she could see Patrick’s Adam’s apple bounce a little in his throat, and he looked sweaty.

The fear she’d been feeling lost its deliciousness, and the sinking feeling returned.

* * *

—

PATRICK ALMOST DROPPED THE microphone when five hundred people looked at him—some from the congregation, but a lot of faces he didn’t recognize.

Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Because Sasha would believe him if he declared himself in front of an audience. Because he had to explain himself to the people who’d put their spiritual lives in his hands for so long. Many of them had trusted him, and he couldn’t help but feel that this was a betrayal of their trust. He wasn’t going to be able to live up to the sacrament so he could face God, but he couldn’t stay and look himself in the mirror in the morning for the rest of his life.

But he wasn’t about to slink away in shame, either. Guilt would rest on his shoulders for what he was about to do—perhaps for the remainder of his days—but he had nothing to be ashamed of. He was in love, even though he’d never thought it would happen. It was undeniable, and it wasn’t going away. His vocation had been enough for him for a long time. The people in the crowd had filled his life by giving him a purpose, but his purpose had changed. It had concentrated and focused on making one woman happy—if she would have him.

Hell, another wave of trepidation washed over him. What if she wasn’t in love with him? What if she was in love with that other man?

He looked for her in the crowd, taking mere seconds to spot her. She stood alone, which gave him some relief, but she wasn’t looking at him as though she was excited to hear what he had to say. By the same strange mechanism that connected them when they were close, he could feel her fear through the air. As though the breeze carried it to him, he felt it too.

He looked down for a moment, wondering if he should do this at all. But then he spied Sister Cortona out of the corner of his eye. Before he’d come up here, she’d let him know that the receipts from the carnival up until that moment had put them over the amount that they would need to keep the preschool program running. Then, she stood at the top of the stairs to the small stage. He would have to jump if he wanted to escape, which told him that he wasn’t going to escape at all.

Instead of risking a twisted ankle from jumping off the stage and running, he cleared his throat and looked at everyone but Sasha. “Thank you for coming. As most of you in the congregation know, the pre-K program is the heart and soul of St. Bartholomew’s parish. Without it, many area children, Catholic and not, wouldn’t get the vital preparation they need to start kindergarten with children of more means around the city.” He hesitated to mention God, who he was sure was readying his ticket to hell for what he would say later, but he had a role to live up to for the next few minutes. “Our joint calling as Catholics is to do good for one another. I’m happy to say that we’ll be able to continue to do good for the kids in the area for at least another year. Thank you.

“I also want to thank you on a personal level, for being here for the past