chapter 4
Decca
When the door opened, the dim light inside rendered him in shadow. But it was him. The figure was too tall, too broad to be anyone but Gus.
“Decca?” He flicked on the outside light but he didn’t need it. That glow he carried around with him, that inner light I loved, reflected onto me, warming my rain-soaked skin.
“Hey, you look, uh…” Strong. Big. Capable of holding up your end of a theological debate while throwing me over your shoulder and carrying me upstairs.
“What’s wrong, Decca?” he asked gruffly. His hair was mussed. His clothes looked like he’d just thrown on whatever was rumpled and on the floor after being worn during the day. But he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping. There was something wild in his eyes. His irises were almost as black as his pupils. He looked... aroused. Like I’d caught him in the middle of sex.
Oh, God. Did I catch him in the middle of sex?
Why hadn’t I thought of that? We didn’t discuss relationships. Or sex. Ever. Why did I just assume that meant he never participated? That I could just swim over here in the rain and save him from lifelong loneliness?
My stomach tightened at the thought of a woman in his bed. Grasping his holy sheets in her fists as he licked her—
“Decca. It’s late.”
Oh. Right.I blinked, chasing away those…uncomfortable visuals. Here I was. Yellow bug light shining in my eyes. Feet planted on the squishy boards of the funeral home porch.
“Uh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I had a question. I didn’t think you’d be busy.”
“I’m not busy,” he barked.
“It seemed to take you a while before coming to the door. I didn’t think about you having, you know… company.”
I turned to leave, berating myself over the stupidity of this moment. “I’m sorry. This was a spur of the moment thing that blew up in my face. I’ll let you go back to whatever you were doing.”
“Decca, I was asleep. Trying to be, at least. It took me a minute to hear you knocking. Then another minute to throw on some clothes. It’s after midnight.”
“Really?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Is it that hard to believe I’d be asleep after midnight?”
“I thought you were a night owl.”
“Not on Saturday nights.”
“Because of church?” I was stalling now.
“Because of church.” He nodded, half-smiling.
“Okay, um... Can I come in?”
He blinked. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dec.”
“Oh. That’s—that’s not what I thought you were going to say.”
“What? You thought I’d run for a towel? Maybe, pull off that sweater of yours and breathe fire onto your chilled skin?”
Yes, please.
“No. I was not expecting that. Nor was I expecting that weird outburst. I’m sorry I woke you. Just forget I was here.”
He stepped onto the porch. Now that he was no longer half-hidden in shadow, I saw him in full deshabille glory. It was a side of Gus I’d never seen before, not that it was indecent by any means. He wore his usual black shirt and black pants, but he hadn’t buttoned up his collar all the way. No robe. No cross. He was barefoot. His feet were long and slender, but somehow strong. Oh, Gus had beautiful feet.
He reached for my hand, giving it a friendly squeeze before dropping it and crossing his arms like I had cooties.
“I’m sorry, Decca. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m tired. I’m going through some things.”
“I know, Gus. You usually share your things with me.”
“I do,” he conceded. “But… I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do that.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “What did you come here for?”
“I don’t want to ask you now.” I sounded like a petulant child, but it didn’t make my words any less true. I didn’t want to ask him when he was in this grumpy, weird mood. I didn’t want to be turned away at the door. I knew our relationship would change, but I wasn’t ready for this hot and cold bullshit.
Dumb, spur-of-the-moment decisions. I could be at home by now, showered and dry, my hands cupped around a mug of tea. Alone.
“Decca, I’m the only one home right now. I’m about to be a priest. I don’t love the optics of a beautiful woman coming to my house in the middle of the night. That’s the only reason I’m out here instead of upstairs running you a bath.”
Oh. Well... Oh.
Once I stopped blushing, I’d try to figure out if he’d meant to deepen his voice into that growly drawl when he’d said that, or if I was reading into things as usual.
“Ask me,” he said, his eyes desperate. Goading me on. Almost like he’d known the question before I did.
This was my shot.
Just one deep breath, Decca. You can do this.
Okay, maybe just one more deep breath.
This was just a friendly deal. A social contract. Nothing to be anxious about. He’d say no, we’d both laugh at the silliness of it all, and get coffee after church tomorrow.
His eyes were the sky at new moon, soft and inky black.
His expression was so open, but with an urgency underneath. I could see the whole universe in him.
It was in the deep, small ways he cared for me.
The way he’d watch the same shows as me, even though I binged them and he nibbled them one at a time, so we’d have something else to talk about when our religious discussions got too heated. The way he was honest with me. He never held back for the sake of friendship.
That was the thing about clergy. He wouldn’t be doing his job if he had blasé feelings. It was his job to care. About everyone. To show them the full strength of God’s love. And that included me. At least, that was the way Gus saw it.
“Dec—”
“Would you want to marry me?”
My words hung in the air. Maybe the humidity of the rain kept them hovering, preventing them from drifting off, away from the porch roof and out into the night.
But there they hung, waiting for Gus to reach up with his giant fist and punch at them like a speedbag.
His body quickened. Something broke free from deep inside. Collapsing. Refilling. His shoulders lost their usual crucifix rigidity, and for the first time, maybe ever, I saw him slump. Even his eyes seemed to draw inward.
The vacuum before a bomb.
“I... Gus?”
He detonated.
His shoulders shook. His chest shuddered. A sound escaped. Big. As large as him. It filled the night air on the porch, drowning out the rain.
I stared at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. The stages of his reaction—whatever it was—seemed wrong.
Then I understood.
He was laughing.
At me.
I could do nothing but stand and watch. Mortification had melted my borrowed Hunter boots to the porch. My eyes were unable to tear themselves away. Like a car crash. Except I was someone who made it a point not to rubberneck. I saw enough atrocities on a regular basis I didn’t seek out morbid thrills.
I especially did not enjoy my own.
Suddenly cold, I wrapped my arms around my belly, tugging my elbows tighter. Excess water squeezed from the soggy material of my sweater.
I needed to leave.
Get in my truck, blast the heat, and drive until my sweater eventually dried. Probably not before my eyeballs shrunk in their sockets and my skin grew thin and papery.
He was right, though. It was funny. I knew he wouldn’t think my offer was legitimate.
Who would? Well, except for weirdos like me who did crazy shit in the name of anthropological… sorority.
I tried to ignore the deep, booming laugh, but it was impossible. Instead, I started trying to extricate myself. I rocked my body back and forth, tentatively prying one foot off the porch, then the other.
I could still walk. I just had to think about it really hard.
I took one step, then another, making it to the top of the stairs before a large hand enveloped mine. Gus stopped me, not pulling me back, but coming out from under the shelter of the haint blue ceiling to face me.
Standing two steps below me, I could see straight into his eyes.
His whole face was open. Despite the rain pouring down, he didn’t flinch. He looked… lighter, happy, ten years younger than he had when he’d answered the door.
With one squeeze of my hand, he was telling me everything would be alright. I knew it would be. It was only my pride getting knocked around. Even if it didn’t feel like it was justmy pride right now.
So what if something ached inside my chest?
Gus was a good friend. A good man. He wouldn’t let this ruin us. He would somehow know all the right platitudes to make me understand how much he appreciated my “sweet gesture.” One day, we’d laugh at that time I got the crazy idea to propose to him just so he wouldn’t have to spend his life alone.
His eyes searched mine, looking back and forth between them at such a close distance.
Closer than we ever dared stand.
His lips parted. Here come the platitudes. Brace yourself, Dec. You had to expect this.
But with one word—his smile like a vow—the Earth shifted on its axis.
“Yes.”