Page 61 of Priest

The vase misses my head by inches and explodes against a cabinet. Ceramic shatters. Water splashes. Flowers hit the floor like casualties.

I spin around, eyes wide. “Damn, Bluebell! You could’ve knocked me out with that thing!”

“Good!” she snaps, already grabbing the nearest book. “Maybe it would’ve knocked some sense into you.”

The book comes at me next, and I duck as it sails past my shoulder and slaps hard against the wall. “You’re right,” I say, hands up, voice low. “I shouldn’t be here like this.”

“No, you shouldn’t!” she yells, reaching for something else before I can make the mistake of thinking agreement will slow her down. “You never cared about my space before. I always had to come to you. I had to fit into your world, your rules, your bed, but now you think you can pick my lock and walk into my home because you decided you want to talk?”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it hits worse than the shit she’s throwing.

“I know,” I tell her, backing up when something metal clatters against the counter close enough to make me flinch. “I know, precious. I fucked up.”

“You have no right to break into my apartment,” she says, chest heaving, fury burning bright enough to cover the hurt underneath. “If I don’t want to see you, that is my prerogative.”

“It is,” I say. “I’m not arguing that.”

By the time she runs out of things to throw, she’s bent forward, breathing hard, one hand tucked protectively beneath the curve of her belly. The sight guts me because I did this. I pushed my way into the one place she should’ve felt safe.

“I want you out,” she shouts, one hand braced against the counter now, like the anger is the only thing holding her upright. “And I want you out now.”

For a second, neither of us moves. Broken ceramic glitters near the cabinet, and her breathing fills the space between us, sharp enough to make me feel every inch of the line I crossed. I want to reach for her, but that would only be another mistake dressed up as instinct.

I move slow. Careful. Hands up. “You done, precious?”

She snaps upright and glares at me like she might still find something to hit me with.

I wince. “I only ask ’cause I got a bath runnin’ for you, and I figure you worked yourself up enough to need it.”

Her jaw tightens. For one second, I think she’s going to come across the room with her bare hands.

“I am going to go take that bath,” she says through clenched teeth, “only because I refuse to waste a perfectly good bath. And while I’m in there, you are going to take your ass and leave.”

I smile because I’m an idiot and because I’m terrified. “You go take your bath. I’ll finish dinner. While you eat, we talk a little. Then I promise I’ll leave.”

She throws her arms up. “Ugh!”

The bathroom door slams hard enough to rattle the frame.

I stand there a second, listening to the muffled sounds of her moving around, and let out a breath that feels scraped raw. She didn’t kick me out yet. That isn’t forgiveness. It isn’t even close. But it’s a crack in the door, and I’m desperate enough to fit my whole damn heart through it if she lets me.

By the time she comes back out, the apartment smells like roast and buttered vegetables, and I’ve cleaned up the mess from the vase because leaving shards on her floor feels like one more sin I can control.

Then I see her, and the air leaves my lungs.

Her hair is damp and twisted up, her face scrubbed clean, and she’s wearing one of my shirts. I don’t think she meant to. It probably fits over her belly better than most of hers right now, but that doesn’t stop something brutal and possessive from opening inside me. My shirt. Her body. Our baby between us like a truth neither one of us can talk around anymore.

She stops short when the smell hits her, eyes narrowing like the food might be a trick.

“You cook?” she asks flatly.

I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck because suddenly I’m too aware of the size of my hands and the weight of every damn word I haven’t figured out how to say. “I’ve lived alone a long time, Bluebell. Big guy’s gotta eat. Couldn’t starve, so I learned.”

“Uh huh.”

She takes a bite.

And moans.