The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,61
glitter in her hair. It reminds me of the halo of light around her from the hall last evening, and I shiver, suddenly feeling a divine kind of presence.
Like she is in my path for a reason.
Like she is my destination.
The reason I’ve been taking every step I have. Just to meet her.
I’m French. From a little town called Sospel, forty minutes away from Monaco, and just a short ride across the border to Italy. My father still owns a bakery there, and he expected me to take his place once he retired. But I was sent to Carmes Seminary in Paris. From there, I bounced around, heading to medical school but that never turned out for me, then traveling around the globe, a mission to spread the word my only calling.
And she tracked me.
She found me from the journey I took.
How would she have done that if I stayed in Sospel?
Destiny isn’t something I ever thought I believed in. But here? Now? I do.
I have no choice, because she is my fate. My free will is no more. She owns it.
Owns me.
In her short jacket, skinny jeans, and short boots, she looks like a tourist. Something about her isn’t polished like most Italian women tend to be, and I find I like that.
She is without artifice.
There isn’t a scrap of makeup on her face, and her hair is a little mussed from having just left my bed.
I almost wish I’d been there to see her wipe my blood off her face.
She’d rolled around in it last night like it was the surf on the shore.
My little freak.
My lips twitch at the thought, and the confession, the flashback, all of it seems to disappear.
My short breaths turn into longer, calmer ones when we’re barely three feet apart.
“Father? May I speak with you?”
Her eyes sparkle, twinkling with amusement, telling me she’s aware we’re not alone.
Corelli’s atonement is quiet, making me wonder if he’s even saying his prayers, but I don’t care.
I truly don’t.
The notion is quite freeing.
There’s none of the bitterness inside me that I’m used to.
The desire to make him pay hasn’t gone, but she’s tempered it.
“Of course, my child,” I rumble. “Come with me.”
We wander down the church toward the North Transept, which gives us access to a clerical part of the building. When we’re in there, tucked away in the corridor, her hand slips into mine, and I allow it.
No one can see, and I’ve chosen my path.
Her.
Not this one. Not this life that makes me miserable. That keeps me alone.
Isolated.
I release a shaky breath, content in a way I never anticipated.
“I felt you.”
I blink at that. Then my head whips around to look at her as, even accepting she’s unusual, that bewilders me. “What?”
“I could feel you were upset.” She shrugs, lets out a soft hum, and her grin appears. “Go on, tell me I’m crazy.”
Without even pausing to take a breath, I reply, “You’re crazy, but in this instance, I don’t know what you mean.”
“I was sound asleep,” she explains softly, her hand trailing over the one stand in the hall. It has a cross on it, a decorative piece that’s hundreds of years old. “Then I woke up, and I just knew you weren’t doing okay.” She shrugs again. “I figured you’d be here. Thought I’d come and check on you.”
Stunned, I just gape at her a little. I mean, the stuff she comes out with is unreal, but equally, uncanny.
Just like with her appearance, her nature is free from all artifice. There is no gain to her coming here. No reason to lie.
“You didn’t think I had regrets?” I question carefully.
She snorts. “Nope.” Her confidence is another thing that takes me aback. She squeezes my fingers. “This is meant to be. I already told you—”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the Eve to my Adam, I know, yes, yes, yes.”
She lets out a short laugh. “You’ve changed your tune.”
“Someone sang to me, made me see the light of day,” I tell her softly as I pull her into my office.
It’s a simple room. Nothing more than a desk, a wall of books, a small altar, simpler than most of the ornamental pieces in the church, and an old-fashioned heater that’s forged of cast iron and painted a muddy brown. The walls contain images of Christ on the cross, and there are several crucifixes.
As I come in here, I realize that the vibe the church gives me, and this office, are two separate things.
Whenever I walk