Chapter 14 #2
A part of me feels bad for dragging him into this. I know this wasn’t easy for him. He had to bend some rules to get us to this point—probably more than he’s comfortable with—but I can’t fault him for that.
I may live a morally grey life, constantly making choices that toe the line or outright cross it, but he’s a man of the cloth.
He answers to someone a hell of a lot higher than I do.
And yet, here he is. Still showing up for me and standing by me when he has every reason not to.
I don’t take that lightly. I never have.
If and when the shit hits the fan—and let’s be honest, it’s a matter of when, not if—I’ll make sure he doesn’t take any heat for this. The fallout, the consequences, all of it, is my mess to carry.
I exit my room, and my stomach churns as I pass Lucia’s closed bedroom door. She spent the afternoon preparing food to serve after the ceremony, but she’s been locked in there ever since, getting ready, or at least, I hope that’s what she’s doing.
For all I know, she’s pacing the floor, second-guessing everything. Or maybe she’s realised this is a mistake, and is already halfway out the damn window.
That thought gives me pause, and I’m half tempted to knock to check on her. To possibly utter something reassuring, but what the hell would I even say? “Hey, just making sure you’re still willing to legally bind yourself to a man with more baggage than an airport carousel?”
I shake my head, thinking better of it. Those words might be enough to tip her over the edge.
I continue moving, but with each step I take, the knot in my stomach tightens.
I’m standing by the window in the main room, gazing out onto the street with my hands shoved deep in my trouser pockets, when Father Flannery arrives.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I watch him get out of that heap of shit car he’s been driving around in for years. I make a mental note to buy him a new one once this is all over. He’s so selfless, he probably won’t accept it, but I’ll do it anyway.
Last year, I anonymously paid for a new roof for the youth club after a freak storm damaged it. When I first offered to help with the repairs, he politely declined.
I’m still not sure if it was his pride or if he couldn’t bring himself to accept what most would probably call blood money. Maybe it was both.
Father Flannery has always walked the straight and narrow, even when the ground beneath him was anything but steady. But I still found a way to get him what he needed. Quietly. Without fanfare.
I even managed to update all the equipment inside. New gear, a fresh coat of paint … the works. If that place can help even one kid the way it helped me back then, it’s worth every damn cent I spent.
I get a pang in my heart as I watch him shuffle towards the rear of the vehicle and remove a cardboard box from the boot. He’s aged so much in the twenty-something years I’ve known him.
He’s no longer the fit-looking, virile man I once met. Time has worn him down, his posture is a little stooped, his steps slower, and his hair more salt than pepper now.
I know for a fact that the strength is still there, but it’s quieter and more measured. The kind that comes from experience rather than muscle.
I start for the front door as he slowly makes his way up the driveway, like he’s got all the time in the world.
My hands clench and unclench at my sides as the tension builds with every stride I take.
By the time I reach the door, my jaw is locked, and the muscles in my body feel tight. I roll my shoulders back and crack my neck from side to side, trying to shake off the nerves.
“Romeo,” he says with a genuinely cheerful smile when I open the front door. “This is a day I feared I’d never see, but I’m grateful I was wrong.”
“Father,” I reply with a nod, ignoring his last comment.
I don’t have the heart to tell him what’s really going on here.
He probably wouldn’t go through with this if he knew the truth.
“Let me get that for you,” I offer, reaching for the box he’s balancing in his hands.
I already know what it is. I asked him to pick it up for me on his drive over.
“Thank you.”
“Come in,” I say, moving aside to give him room to enter.
He’s dressed like always, wearing a crisp black suit and button-down shirt. The white clerical collar at his throat stands out sharply against the dark fabric.
His black shoes are practical and polished to a high shine, but the leather shows years of wear. The creases visible from long days, countless steps, and a life spent showing up for his congregation, the kids at the youth club, and for people like me.
He follows me into the main room, and once I’ve placed the box on the coffee table, I peel back the top flaps to reveal the bouquet of pink flowers inside. This wedding may not be real, but I still want it to be special for Lucia.
She deserves her big day to have all the trimmings. The church wedding, the lavish reception, the beautiful cake. All the pomp and fanfare that I couldn’t give two shits about. Deep down, I bet she would, though, and that’s what matters.
I’ve been to enough lavish Italian weddings—where money flows like water and everything feels larger than life—to know what she might have dreamed of. So, giving her this stripped-down version feels like I’m cheating her out of something she deserves.
Hopefully, one day her forever man will be able to give her that. The kind of day that women obsess about. The thought that it might be someone other than me feels like a swift kick to the balls.
“Can I get you something to drink while we wait for Lucia?” I ask.
“I’m good, thanks, Romeo.” He steps in closer and clasps a hand on my shoulder. His touch is firm but familiar. “How are things with you, son? Is that mother of yours still giving you grief?”
I grind my back teeth together as I search for the right answer. This is the part where I’d usually lie, brush it off or change the subject, but I can’t do that with him.
I’ve never flat-out deceived Father Flannery. I might have omitted the truth occasionally, but I’ve always drawn the line at lying to his face. Something about this man demands honesty, even when it’s hard.
“She got arrested a few weeks ago,” I find myself saying. “For possession and driving under the influence on a suspended licence.”
“Oh dear,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging down in concern. “I’m sorry this still plagues you. I pray for that woman often.”
I want to tell him he’s wasting his breath, but I don’t. My mother could use all the prayers she can get.
“I had the car towed and told her she couldn’t have it back until her licence was returned.”
“That’s good,” he says with an approving nod. “A sensible move.”
“Well, a few days later, she and the boyfriend showed up at my place trying to steal it back. Honestly, Father, I’m at my wits’ end with that woman.
It’s getting harder and harder not to react when she keeps doing dumb shit like this.
There are days I worry she’s going to push me too far and I’ll snap. ”
Father Flannery’s gaze doesn’t waver. His voice remains calm yet firm.
“That’s understandable. That woman has put you through more shit, as you say, than most people could bear.
In saying that, though, I don’t want you to mirror that kind of darkness, Romeo.
Please continue to shine through it. When the world hands you hate, you give back grace.
Not because they deserve it, but because you deserve better.
You deserve peace. Who you are is not defined by what others have done, but by how you choose to respond. ”
I don’t say anything. I nod, swallowing the heat in my throat as I try to remember how to breathe.