“Yooou’re weeelcome,” he replies.
That’s when the lights fire back on. It takes me a few seconds to clear my vision, but when I do, he’s staring down at me with something I don’t recognize in his eyes. It’s new. I want to ask him what it is, but I chicken out. I think I’m afraid of the answer.
“Okay, everyone. Crisis averted.” Mom’s voice echoes through the silent room. “Please just get back to enjoying the night. Thank you for coming.”
He’s still looking at me, and I’m still looking back, and now I know others are starting to look at us. He must realize it at the same time because he unwinds his hand free from mine.
“Probably don’t need any more awkward questions than you’ll already get.” His eyes scan the room as his hand slides into his pocket.
He’s in black and white again, as he’s always been in the past two weeks, but this isn’t the same black-and-white outfit I’m used to. I step back just to make sure I’m not seeing things. And maybe I step back to get a better look at him.
“Are you wearing a tuxedo?” My heart picks up, and I know why. Seeing him like this, without his priest’s collar, blurs the lines for me too much. It’s easier to forget what he is and succumb to what I wish he was instead—mine again.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you call it.” He glances down at himself. “At least that’s what the guy at the rental place called it.”
I glance at his neck. “You traded in your collar for a bow tie.”
“Yeah,” he says, yanking at the bow tie. “But it’s still choking the hell out of me.”
I smile at him yanking at the tie. It doesn’t look as tight as his priest’s collar. It doesn’t look half as restraining. “You look good.”
Actually, he looks better than good. He looks better than great. But I don’t think I’m allowed to say that to a priest. Especially with the way people are tuning into our conversation, slowly creeping a little closer.
“No, you look good. I look like an eyesore next to you.” His gaze skims down me, lingering in places I’m not sure a priest’s eyes are supposed to linger.
My fingers curl into my palms. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy and this probably isn’t your thing, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here. And you’re wrong about this not being my thing.” His eyes make their return trip to mine. “You’re here.”
The whole room feels like it’s creeping in around us, listening, watching. I’m already a lightning rod because of what happened to me; I don’t need to be one for being a priest’s temptress.
“Jade, sweetie.” Mom comes up beside Torrin and me, glancing around the room. “Your guests. Everyone’s eager to say hello.”
“Hi, Eleanor. Great party,” Torrin says.
“Hello, Torrin. I’m pleased you could make it.” Her voice isn’t unkind, but it’s stilted.
I know she doesn’t want me getting hurt, but I’ve already been hurt. Being with him, in whatever way I am, makes me a little better each time. It’s almost like every time I’m with him, another shattered piece comes back together.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to the lights, would you?” Mom asks him, an eyebrow arched.
Torrin’s face goes flat. “I don’t have a clue.” He can’t keep up the act though. A smile breaks as he winks. “It must have been a fluke.”
“It must have been,” Mom replies, looking at me. Her eyes soften from seeing me relaxed, smiling, not about to lose my shit all over the room. Leaning closer to Torrin, she pats his arm. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Even his innocent face is guilty.
“Don’t play innocent with me.” She pats his arm one final time, waiting for me. “Father.”
Torrin laughs a note and waves as Mom steers me away. I can’t look away though. Not right away. Because he’s in a tux, and he’s staring at me the way I am at him, and he’s trying to tell me something I think I’m starting to understand.
He makes himself look away first—like he knows I’m incapable of it.
Mom steers me through the room. I wave and smile at people when they do the same, but most I don’t recognize. Other than some family members and a few close friends, everyone else is a blank.
“There’s Sam and Patrick,” Mom says when my sister and who I guess is her husband come through the door like they’re not sure they’re in the right place.
My dad shakes hands with Patrick and gives Sam a kiss on the cheek. That’s my sister’s husband. My younger sister’s husband. They have a baby. They have impressive-sounding jobs. They’ve grown and evolved in the past decade while I haven’t even managed to stay the same—I’ve wilted from the feel of it.
“You want to go say hi?” Mom catches me watching my sister, but I look away as soon as she brings it up.
They look happy. Relaxed. I don’t want to change that by popping up and introducing myself to her husband as the sister who was kidnapped ten years ago.