AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Luke nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Cromwell 2.0.”
“What have you been up to?” I murmur into Luke’s neck, and Luke plants a trail of honey-sweet kisses across my forehead.
“Well,” he begins in a slow, leisurely drawl. “Everything was dismal. So I got a mimosa from the university bar to cheer myself up. Obviously when I say me, I mean MacKechnie.” He raises his glass toward the entrance in thanks. “Because it turns out I can’t go anywhere or do anything for my own safety.” He observes the contents of his drink and adds, “Isn’t life grand? Mimosas don’t evenhavecherries in them, so technically I’m one-up on life already.”
“Sorry, old friend,” Rory says solemnly, coming to sit between Luke and Danny. “The least you deserve is a decent cocktail.”
Luke shrugs, gathering me closer to him. “As I speak, gray men in gray suits are making arrangements to sell off my family’s assets — the palaces I grew up in, the jewels I wore ceremonially. I cannot think of it. I refuse.” He pauses, still gathering me tight, as though I bring him comfort. I realize he’s slipped into his old, melodic way of speaking, as though this too comforts him. “And yet everything here — perhaps it’s foolish of me,” he adds with a tender brush of his lips across my forehead, “but I believe I prize everyone in this room so much higher than the ancient trinkets of my ancestors.”
Finlay blows out a tense, disbelieving breath, gazing hard at the porcelain font.
“You,” Luke says to Finlay with a great deal of self-composure. His hand strokes my spine and I curl into him like a satisfied cat. “You have a scheming look about you.”
Finlay isn’t even able to look him in the eye. “I’ve been oot there. Yer whole life is bein’ upended,” he states quietly, “and it’s a’ my fault.”
“Must we go through this every single time, Fin? You say it so often that part of me is starting to believe it’s out of pride.”
“Is it fuck!” Finlay snaps. “You know as well as I dae how much I’ve tortured myself this past year.”
“So quit going on about it, JesusChrist.” It’s the first time there’s been a flare of temper in Luke’s low, rolling voice. Belatedly, Luke turns to the stained-glass mural featuring the crucifixion and raises an apologetic hand. “But it’s all you, you, you. You did it. You did it all. Even though there were others far more involved,youwere the biggest, baddest mastermind, blah blah blah. Get the hell over yourself, Fin. I know I have.”
Finlay plonks himself down moodily on the stone floor beside the base of the altar. He reminds me of a small animal seeking shelter beneath a leaf.
Danny, I notice, hasn’t stopped reading his comic. He turns a page and then observes Finlay, a soft look of pity in his eyes, before remarking quietly, “You know you aren’t Judas, right?”
Finlay glances up at him, his green eyes underlined and dark.
“Judas did it for money. You did it because you thought it was the right thing to do, politically.”
Finlay lowers his eyes to his scuffed Docs.
“And arguably, Judas set the crucifixion in motion, anyway, without which humanity wouldn’t have been saved. So congrats, Fin, by betraying me you actually saved us all.”
Finlay scowls at Luke. “Dinnae mock me. No’you.”
“It’s not my fault you are an incredibly mockable man.”
“Anyway, we had sex,” Rory announces grandly to break the building tension, his voice flying high up into the vaults of the vast ceiling, and Danny’s comic falls on top of his face.
“Excuse me?”
Luke glances at me, intrigued.
“I mean, there was… there were…” I pause, biting my lip. Luke’s eyes are distractingly dark and penetrating, all too easy to fall into. “Handjobs?”
“And blowjobs,” Rory adds lazily, spreading his arms along the back of the pew. “And general jobs. Oral. And finger—”
“Can you not?” I hiss, the same time Luke says, “Please, do go on.” Luke raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m surprised by this. You do know I have seen you naked on multiple occasions, and vice versa.”
“Yes, but…” I look around at the ancient, hallowed stone hall, suddenly feeling awkward, a whole bunch of fearsome angels colliding in the glass surrounding us while Jesus cuts a lone, tragic figure justhanging there. “We’re inchurch.”
“It’s just a building.”
“No, it’s not,” Danny counters. “God doesn’t want to hear about you lot getting it on.” He turns his head to the side, glancing at me, before adding in a bright tone, “But I do.”
“How d’ye know whit God wants tae hear? Maybe he’s a right ol’ perv.”
Although I’m not a particularly religious person, I glance up at the stone ceiling, expecting it to rapidly crack and crumble, as Finlay’s words bring a sudden rush of fear that God will smite thee ASAP.
