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Ledger cracks a smile. “Exactly, stop focusing on the what-ifs. You and Greer belong together. We all know it. Hell, even Dev knows it. I just think he won’t admit it to anyone, but we all see how much you care for her. And how much she cares for you. She loves you too.”
A peaceful sensation falls over me for the first time in a long time. “I love her, Ledger, but she deserves so much better.”
“Then be that better man. Go fucking find yourself or whatever shit you need to do, but be that man she deserves.”
“What’s going on in here?” Dev asks as Ledger’s phone chimes.
Ledger pulls his phone from his pocket and his face lights up as he looks at the screen.
“Who’s that?” I ask, ignoring Dev’s question.
Dev steps closer. “Whoever it is, Ledger’s thrilled to hear from them.”
Ledger pockets his phone and scowls at us. “It’s just Posey. She remembered something else and wants to meet with me to discuss it.”
Dev and I share a look and revert to our teenage selves. We laugh and tease Ledger for a few minutes until Greer, Chloe, and Devvie Jr. join us in the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Greer asks.
“Ledger’s in love,” I say back to her.
She smiles wide, and it’s breathtaking. As the rest of the kitchen explodes in questions about Posey, I watch my friends interact, thinking about what Ledger said to me.
I need to be the man who deserves her.
But how?
TWENTY-THREE
GREER
Roman’s become a fixture in my home. It’s different having him in my space. Yet, with each passing day, his presence has gradually grown on me, like a vine creeping up the walls of my heart. It’s something I’m getting used to. Something I’m actually liking. A little bit too much.
After we got home from brunch yesterday, Roman held me in his arms for the rest of the afternoon. Then, we made love all night long, and a weight settled deep in my chest. A weight of unease with my life. I feel like something’s not right. Something isn’t perfect.
That’s why I slipped out of the house before Roman woke up, and am heading to the one place I haven’t visited since I was a child—church.
I step into the church feeling a shift in energy, a sense of peace and reverence washing over me. I breathe in the subtle aroma of incense and let it out slowly. I admire the architecture, stained glass windows, and religious symbols as I pass each pew. The altar, the focal point of the chapel, is adorned with candles and fresh flowers. I feel myself drawn to the serene atmosphere and move closer toward it.
A man in black pants and a black button down shirt moves closer toward me. I realize quickly it’s the priest heading down the aisle.
“Welcome,” he says in a deep, comforting voice.
I nod my head. “I’m not really sure why I’m here.”
The priest steps closer with an aura of confidence and charm, drawing my attention to his striking features and magnetic presence. He has a chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that lights up his whole face. He’s quite good-looking, but he’s got nothing on Roman.
“I’m Benedict Carmichael. Whether you’re here to explore your faith, seeking solace, or just curious about our community, we’re delighted to have you. Please feel free to ask me any questions you may have, or if you simply want an ear to listen to your problems, I can offer that as well.”
I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you. I could really use somebody to talk to.” The words pour out of me. When I headed toward the church this morning I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for.
It wasn’t until Father Carmichael offered his ear that I knew exactly what I needed.
He smiles another genuine smile that puts me at ease. “Please sit down,” he says, leading me to a pew near the front of the chapel. The place is empty, quiet, and it makes me breathe easier. He doesn’t say anything else, obviously waiting for me to start.
And so I do, “I think I’m defending a guilty man, and I’m not sure I can do it anymore. I thought I loved my job, but how can I love something that makes me feel inadequate because I don’t have a man on my arm. I should be good at my job because, well, I’m really good at my job, not because I’m in a relationship.”
Benedict listens to me intently, and it feels so good to have somebody to talk to. Sure, I can talk to Roman but with his anxiety, I don’t want to put this on him. I know what he’d say. He’d tell me to do what makes me happy. However, I don’t know what that is. I like talking to somebody impartial.
