Page 20 of My Saintly Demon

"You don't cover your fries in ketchup, do you?"

"What? Eww. No. Vinegar and salt. Sometimes gravy."

"Gross. At the same time? Don't they get soggy?"

"No, not at the same time. But yes, they can get soggy. I like them that way."

"I prefer a crispy fry."

He raises an eyebrow, and his lips tilt up again. Just a bit. But I'll take it.

"We’ll split the fries before any condiments get added. How's that?"

"Sounds like a compromise. I'll take it."

He finds a parking spot at the Burger Barn and as we walk to the door together; I beat him to it and hold it open for him.

He might not want to call it a date, but I'm going to treat it like one.

CHAPTERNINE

CHARLES

Great choice, Charles. That was an amazing dinner.”

The Burger Barn was always my go to when I wanted to eat my feelings. I’ve come here many times over the last few months. While I don’t regret my decision to break free and live my life, the guilt is still there. All the people I’ve let down. Again.

And now I have this six foot five, blue eyed adonis along for the ride. Not sure how that happened, but it’s unsettling. After Matthew smashed my heart and hope of a normal life to smithereens, I wanted nothing more to do with relationships. Not that this is a relationship, but I guess we can say we’re friends, at least.

I just want to fuck anything that offers and drown myself in gin. Smoke some of that amazing weed I bought and just do whatever the hell I want. Preferably as often as possible. But Dave is… nice.

“Yeah, best burger for whatever ails you.”

“What is it that ails you, Charles?”

Dave’s smooth voice settles over me like a fuzzy blanket. Those blue eyes aren’t cold either. They’re soft and warm like he cares. They make my heart pound faster.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“I’ve got time to listen.”

His lips tilt, crooked and cute, and I realize he’s mimicking how I listened to him earlier. I suppose it’s only fair to share a little more since he did.

“I don’t know what to do now. From the seminary to the church, I’ve followed structure and rules. Someone was always telling me what to do or say.” I tidy the sugar packets in the dish, making all the writing face the same way. “When I was ordained, it was the same thing. Lots of rules and stuff. Never a moment to really do what I wanted. I had vacation days, but it seemed the diocese was always short somewhere and they shuffled me all over to cover.”

My throat clicks as I reach for my glass of water. Now that I’ve started talking, it’s like I can’t seem to stop.

“I’ve never had time for me to just be Charles, the guy who likes to lie in bed and read late. Or the guy who likes to linger over his pancakes and coffee. I always miss Sunday football and I…”

I let my voice trail off because the last time I spoke about this, Matthew made me feel so small, so ridiculous, for even putting a voice to it.

“You what? You can tell me.”

My voice is a whisper. “I want to be loved. In the open. With a real partner, not this I’m married to the church crap. I want someone to be proud of me as Charles, not Father Charles. Just me.” I tear my gaze from the sugar packets and meet his again. “I just want to be a gay man and not be judged for it.”

Dave stares back at me, and my chest rises with short puffs. Matthew didn’t get it. He was perfectly fine living two lives. It didn’t bother him to do it. He didn’t have the same needs I did. There was no conflict for him because he felt work came first. Even when work was the one who made you stay quiet about who you really were.

“I certainly don’t judge you for any of that. Doesn’t everyone just want to be themselves without judgment? Without fear of what their families think when you might be a little different.”

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