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The mind of the intelligent gains knowledge, and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.
Proverbs 18:15
That was too close of a call to make with Avery in my office earlier this morning. I should have assumed that being around her was going to be difficult. That type of intense attraction to each other is not common, not in the least.
It doesn’t matter that when I look at her, I want nothing else. She’s married, and I am a fucking humble servant of God or some shit. I can’t even fool myself right now that I’m meant to live the life of a priest. Not when I’ve been experiencing what it’s like to be around a person who makes me feel so fucking alive.
The rest of the day, I try my best not to think about Avery. It’s nearly impossible. Visions of her in every way imaginable consume not just my thoughts but every fiber of my being.
I can’t focus on Avery right now. Not when the reality is the rest of my day, I’ll be drowning in paperwork about the gala, planning upcoming Masses, and having more internal documents to review.
I have no fucking clue why Greg put this gala on my plate. I’ve only been with the parish for two months and have no experience in event planning. Even from my past life, pre-priesthood. He just doesn’t want to deal with it anymore, and the other priest at our parish is pushing seventy; I doubt he was the better choice to lead these elitist efforts.
Greg wants the glory of a successful parish gala but doesn’t actually give two fucks about it. He’s no better than the men of this parish, men like Avery’s husband, Kevin.
My disdain for Avery’s husband comes from my gut. I don’t know for sure that he’s a dumb fucking prick, but Avery wouldn’t be this way if he weren’t. I fucking know that at the very minimum.
“Ahem,” someone clears their throat from my office doorway.
Looking up, I find none other than Greg. What great fucking timing.
“Greg, what can I do for you?” I spit out.
“Lachlan, is that any way to greet me?”
I laugh casually to ease the tension.
“Of course, my apologies. I’m buried in paperwork Patricia and the team need me to review for the upcoming gala,” I answer.
Not a lie, but not why I was trying to get this interaction over with as quickly as possible.
That eases the furrow between his brows.
“Right, the gala. That’s why I came by,” he starts.
I stand from behind my desk, crossing the room to be by his side.
“Anything in particular?” I ask.
“I saw Avery Matheson finally showed up. I was beginning to think I needed to call that husband of hers for you to get her in here,” he grumbles.
“No need, sir, she’s sponsoring the entertainment now as well,” I answer.
Greg nods his head in approval.
“Good, that’s good,” he says almost to himself.
Before I get a chance to ask if that’s all he wants to know, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out, he tenses at the name he sees before sliding it back in its place.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh yes, of course, just nonsense I’ve been dealing with on the expansion campaign efforts. It’s like herding cats, getting everyone in agreement on the next steps.”
“Do you need my help there?”
Fucking please say no. Greg eyes me curiously. Almost as if he’s debating my offer to assist with the campaign.
He chuckles briefly before responding to me.
