Nora’s stomach tightened.
“That reporter was much hotter than she needed to be.”
“And intelligent and damaged.”
“Just your type. I’m glad she didn’t, you know, get to you more than she did. Get to us. I was worried there for a while that she’d find out what we are. Things could have gotten ugly. But I guess that would have kept you from being bishop, right?”
“The fact I had a reporter digging into my past kept me from becoming bishop,” Søren said, a little glint shining in his eyes. The glint told her all.
“Oh, you son of a bitch,” Nora groaned. “You were the one who tipped her off, weren’t you?”
“Kingsley, actually. Although it was my idea. I knew if I could tell the search committee that I had a tenacious reporter dogging my every step, they wouldn’t risk making me bishop and the news of my donation to the diocese going public.”
“You manipulative Machiavellian ass**le, I love you.” Nora burst into laughter. She should have known. She absolutely should have known Suzanne’s presence in their lives had been Søren’s idea all along.
“In my defense,” Søren said without a hint of shame or contrition, “we did choose her because I knew I could help her.”
“Yes, you’re a saint. St. Søren the Bastard, Patron of Manipulation.” She couldn’t stop laughing. He really would do anything to protect them, to protect her.
“I’m still awaiting final approval on my canonization.”
Nora rose up on her toes and kissed him.
“You can open the card now,” Søren said into her lips.
“The card? Oh, the card.” Nora remembered that infuriating note Søren had given her at the beginning of the summer. She’d resisted the temptation to open it for weeks. From behind the bar she grabbed her bag and dug through it. Pulling out the card, she tore it open and read the words written on it in Søren’s elegant script.
You are formally invited to attend the collaring of Griffin Fiske and Michael Dimir.
Nora’s jaw dropped. She looked at Søren and swatted his arm with the card.
“You knew?” Nora’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.
“Of course I knew,” Søren said. “I’ve known Griffin for years. I’m Michael’s confessor. I knew they’d fall in love with each other. I knew it would be a good opportunity for Griffin to redeem himself. I’m quite happy for Michael. He needs someone as out and as effusive in his affection as Griffin.”
“So you ordered Griffin to stay away from Michael because…?”
“We value the most what we must sacrifice to have. I never want Griffin taking Michael for granted. I don’t think he ever will.”
Nora looked at the card before tearing it into pieces and throwing it up in the air like confetti.
“I love you, you terrifyingly brilliant man.” Nora threw her arms around Søren in what she thought would be a quick, playful hug. But Søren pulled her close and held her tight to him. So tight it almost scared her. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled.
“Søren? What’s wrong?” she whispered. “You’ve been tense all night.”
Søren’s hand rested at her neck. She felt something, heard a click, and her white collar came off in Søren’s hands. She looked down at the collar and up at Søren.
“Sir?” Nora’s hands went numb. Her heart raced.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you enough to take this from you for a little while. I love you enough to give you this in return.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her a key with a white ribbon on it in place of a keychain. A white ribbon…the key to the White Room. She’d met Michael in that room last year and taken his virginity. Søren had given her this very key with the words He’s still a virgin… You can close your eyes and pretend it’s…
“Søren?”
“You came back to me after years apart. And it gave me such joy to have you again that I neglected to ask the most important question—why? Why did you come back to me? And were you coming to me? Or were you leaving someone else?”
“You know I was—”
“I saw your book. I saw the dedication.”
Nora closed her eyes. She’d hoped Søren wouldn’t notice that for the first time ever she’d dedicated a book to someone other than him.
“Many waters…” Søren said. “You still love him.”
A tear fell from Nora’s eye. She couldn’t deny the words. But she didn’t want to admit it, either.
“I love you too much to keep you against your will,” Søren said.
Nora looked up at him.
“Even if against my will is what I want?”
“Even then.” The key felt warm on the palm of her hand. She stared at it and wondered. “Go. You know it’s what you want.”
Nora’s fingers curled around the key. A well of hope sprung up in her heart. But she tamped it back down. No…she couldn’t believe…could it be?
“I’ll come back,” she promised. “I’ll always come back to you.”
“I know,” he said with cold, calm arrogance. “If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t let you go.”
“Believe it. It’s true.” She took a step back. Then another. “Always.”
“That reporter was much hotter than she needed to be.”
“And intelligent and damaged.”
“Just your type. I’m glad she didn’t, you know, get to you more than she did. Get to us. I was worried there for a while that she’d find out what we are. Things could have gotten ugly. But I guess that would have kept you from being bishop, right?”
“The fact I had a reporter digging into my past kept me from becoming bishop,” Søren said, a little glint shining in his eyes. The glint told her all.
“Oh, you son of a bitch,” Nora groaned. “You were the one who tipped her off, weren’t you?”
“Kingsley, actually. Although it was my idea. I knew if I could tell the search committee that I had a tenacious reporter dogging my every step, they wouldn’t risk making me bishop and the news of my donation to the diocese going public.”
“You manipulative Machiavellian ass**le, I love you.” Nora burst into laughter. She should have known. She absolutely should have known Suzanne’s presence in their lives had been Søren’s idea all along.
“In my defense,” Søren said without a hint of shame or contrition, “we did choose her because I knew I could help her.”
“Yes, you’re a saint. St. Søren the Bastard, Patron of Manipulation.” She couldn’t stop laughing. He really would do anything to protect them, to protect her.
“I’m still awaiting final approval on my canonization.”
Nora rose up on her toes and kissed him.
“You can open the card now,” Søren said into her lips.
“The card? Oh, the card.” Nora remembered that infuriating note Søren had given her at the beginning of the summer. She’d resisted the temptation to open it for weeks. From behind the bar she grabbed her bag and dug through it. Pulling out the card, she tore it open and read the words written on it in Søren’s elegant script.
You are formally invited to attend the collaring of Griffin Fiske and Michael Dimir.
Nora’s jaw dropped. She looked at Søren and swatted his arm with the card.
“You knew?” Nora’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.
“Of course I knew,” Søren said. “I’ve known Griffin for years. I’m Michael’s confessor. I knew they’d fall in love with each other. I knew it would be a good opportunity for Griffin to redeem himself. I’m quite happy for Michael. He needs someone as out and as effusive in his affection as Griffin.”
“So you ordered Griffin to stay away from Michael because…?”
“We value the most what we must sacrifice to have. I never want Griffin taking Michael for granted. I don’t think he ever will.”
Nora looked at the card before tearing it into pieces and throwing it up in the air like confetti.
“I love you, you terrifyingly brilliant man.” Nora threw her arms around Søren in what she thought would be a quick, playful hug. But Søren pulled her close and held her tight to him. So tight it almost scared her. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled.
“Søren? What’s wrong?” she whispered. “You’ve been tense all night.”
Søren’s hand rested at her neck. She felt something, heard a click, and her white collar came off in Søren’s hands. She looked down at the collar and up at Søren.
“Sir?” Nora’s hands went numb. Her heart raced.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you enough to take this from you for a little while. I love you enough to give you this in return.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her a key with a white ribbon on it in place of a keychain. A white ribbon…the key to the White Room. She’d met Michael in that room last year and taken his virginity. Søren had given her this very key with the words He’s still a virgin… You can close your eyes and pretend it’s…
“Søren?”
“You came back to me after years apart. And it gave me such joy to have you again that I neglected to ask the most important question—why? Why did you come back to me? And were you coming to me? Or were you leaving someone else?”
“You know I was—”
“I saw your book. I saw the dedication.”
Nora closed her eyes. She’d hoped Søren wouldn’t notice that for the first time ever she’d dedicated a book to someone other than him.
“Many waters…” Søren said. “You still love him.”
A tear fell from Nora’s eye. She couldn’t deny the words. But she didn’t want to admit it, either.
“I love you too much to keep you against your will,” Søren said.
Nora looked up at him.
“Even if against my will is what I want?”
“Even then.” The key felt warm on the palm of her hand. She stared at it and wondered. “Go. You know it’s what you want.”
Nora’s fingers curled around the key. A well of hope sprung up in her heart. But she tamped it back down. No…she couldn’t believe…could it be?
“I’ll come back,” she promised. “I’ll always come back to you.”
“I know,” he said with cold, calm arrogance. “If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t let you go.”
“Believe it. It’s true.” She took a step back. Then another. “Always.”
