Chapter 50 - Marcus
MARCUS
Unable to put off my decision any longer, the envelope sits on my desk like a loaded gun, Father Castellano’s careful handwriting spelling out my future in neat, precise letters.
My hands shake as I pick up my phone, the weight of this decision pressing down on my chest until I can barely breathe.
I dial before I can lose my nerve.
“Father Castellano.” His voice is warm, expectant. He thinks he knows what I’m going to say.
“Father, it’s Brother Marcus Reyes.” I force my voice to remain steady despite the tremor running through my body. “I’m calling about the ordination offer.”
“Ah, Marcus. I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Have you made your decision?”
I close my eyes, seeing Charlie’s face.
The way her hazel eyes shift between green and gold when she’s worried.
The protective way her hand rests on her stomach, already loving the baby growing there.
The fierce determination in her expression when she defended us to the Bishop.
The way she looks at me like I’m worth keeping despite all my failures.
“I’m grateful for the opportunity,” I say, my accent thickening with emotion. “More grateful than I can express. But I have to decline.”
The silence that follows feels eternal.
“I see.” Father Castellano’s voice is carefully neutral. “May I ask why?”
“My calling lies elsewhere.” The words come easier now, like a confession I’ve been holding back for months.
“I thought redemption meant returning to the priesthood, proving I could be the man I failed to be three years ago. But I was wrong.” I grip the phone tighter.
“Redemption isn’t about ceremonies or titles.
It’s about choosing love, even when love is complicated and requires sacrifice. ”
“There’s someone, isn’t there?” His voice softens. “A woman.”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate. Don’t explain about Charlie or the baby or the unconventional family we’ve built. He doesn’t need those details. “I’ll continue as deacon for now, but I’m considering leaving formal ministry entirely.”
Father Castellano is quiet for a long moment. “I’m disappointed, Marcus. But I understand.” He pauses. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“I already have.”
After the call ends, I sit in the sudden silence, feeling the weight I’ve been carrying for months finally lift.
The letter from the diocese goes into my desk drawer, a path not taken, a future I’m choosing to release.
My hands are steady now, my breathing calm.
For the first time since Father Castellano made his offer, I feel certain.
I find Charlie in the garden behind St. Michael’s, her body silhouetted against the afternoon sun.
Five months pregnant now, her belly round and full beneath the simple maternity dress that clings to curves that have become even more pronounced with pregnancy.
Her auburn hair catches the light as she bends to examine the roses Mrs. Patterson planted last spring, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is.
Not just physically, though the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips make my body respond immediately. But the strength in her, the way she’s chosen to love us despite every reason she shouldn’t.
She looks up as I approach, and the smile that transforms her face makes my chest tight with emotions I’m still learning to name.
Love.
Gratitude.
Fierce protectiveness.
The knowledge that I’d choose her again and again, in every lifetime, in every possible world.
I kneel before her on the grass, my hands finding her hips, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. “I called Father Castellano.”
Her breath catches, her hand moving to rest on my shoulder. “And?”
“I chose you.” My voice cracks slightly. “I chose our family. I chose love over obligation.” I press my forehead against her rounded stomach, feeling the baby move beneath my touch. “I chose this, querida. All of it.”
Charlie’s hands thread through my hair, and I feel her body shake with sobs she’s trying to hold back. “Marcus.” My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a benediction. “Are you sure? You’re giving up so much.”
“I’m not giving up anything that matters.” I look up at her, at the tears streaming down her face, at the fierce love shining in her hazel eyes. “The priesthood was my past. You’re my future.”
She pulls me to my feet, her arms wrapping around me as much as her pregnant belly allows. I hold her carefully, reverently, breathing in the vanilla scent that’s become as necessary as air.
My hands slide down to cup her ass, pulling her closer, and I feel her gasp against my neck.
Even pregnant, even in the church garden where anyone could see, I want her with an intensity that hasn’t diminished.
“Te amo,” I murmur against her hair. “More than I thought possible.”
That evening, I gather with Adrian and Elijah in Adrian’s quarters. They’re waiting when I arrive, their faces carefully neutral, but their eyes holding questions they’re afraid to ask.
“I declined the ordination,” I say without preamble.
Adrian’s gray eyes hold mine, and I see something that looks like envy flicker across his face before he buries it. “You made the right choice.” His voice is rough. “The brave choice.”
“I’m proud of you,” Elijah adds, his eyes warm with understanding. “It takes courage to choose love over expectation.”
We discuss practicalities. I’ll need to find work outside the church, something that can support a family. It’s unfair to expect Charlie to work on her own at The Flour Pot.
We’ll need to figure out living arrangements for when the baby comes. Charlie’s small apartment above the rectory won’t be big enough for all of us, nor is it meant to be a long-term place. The logistics are daunting, but for the first time, they feel manageable.
“We’ll figure it out,” Adrian says, his hand finding my shoulder. “Together.”
Charlie appears in the doorway, her face flushed with excitement that makes her even more beautiful. Her dress hints at her fuller cleavage from pregnancy, and I watch Adrian’s gaze drop there before he forces it back up. Even now, even with everything settled, we can’t stop wanting her.
“Maggie called,” Charlie says, her hazel eyes shining with hope and fear in equal measure. “From The Flour Pot. She wants to discuss something important tomorrow. Something about the bakery’s future and my role in it.”