Page 6 of For I Have Sinned

“The younger one was attractive. If I saw him in public with normal clothes on, I would never guess he was a priest.”

“Maybe going to this new church wouldn’t be so bad.” Amelia wiggles her brows, the silver piercing shining under the kitchen island light.

“If you two don’t stop, I’m going to kick you out.”

Vince gasps. “But what about our margarita Monday? Amelia found a new recipe she wanted to try.”

“Spicy margaritas.” She hops off the stool and opens the refrigerator to grab the ingredients.

“That’s going to be disgusting.” I crinkle my nose. “Vince, you start prepping the stuff for tacos. I’m going to call my mom to see if I can set up a lunch or something.”

He nods, spinning on his heel to start the prep. Swiping my phone off the counter, I head to my bedroom. When I get inside and shut the door, I bite my bottom lip as I stare at my mom’s contact info. Maybe I shouldn’t call her. She says things in specific ways to get me all flustered, and I end up caving.

No. I’m not calling. I’m going to just send her a text.

Me

Hey. Would you want to grab lunch sometime this week? I can meet you on my lunch break.

I hover over the arrow button, my heart hammering in my chest, before I tap it. Nerves bubble up in my stomach when three dots pop up.

Evil Witch

I’m very busy this week. I won’t be able to meet.

Me

I wanted to talk. It’s important.

Evil Witch

Whatever it is, it will have to wait until Sunday’s service.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and they burn as the tears well up. It’s fine. This is fine. I will speak with them before we enter the church, and then I’ll leave.

Evil Witch

You better not be pregnant.

Me getting pregnant would send my mother to an early grave.

Me

Not pregnant. I’ll talk to you on Sunday.

Locking my phone, because I know she won’t respond again, I toss it on my bed and head back to the kitchen. Amelia is adding stuff to a blender while Vince is seasoning the meat.

“How’d it go?” Amelia asks as she dumps cut-up jalapenos into the blender.

“She can’t meet this week, so now I have to speak with her on Sunday.” I walk around the island, picking up the knife lying next to the cutting board to start on the red peppers. “It’ll be fine.”

I don’t miss the stare they give each other before Vince speaks. “How’s work going? Is it getting any better?”

I have been a personal assistant to the Editor in Chief for approximately three years now—three long, agonizing years at Stanley Publishing.

At first, the job was a dream. It was everything that I wanted in a career until the previous Editor in Chief that I worked for retired after a few months of my being there. Then they set me up with a woman who gives the word “bitch” a whole new meaning.

“She’s still awful, and I’m pretty sure she wants me to quit.”