Page 69 of Sacred Hearts

“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Because my brother deserves happiness,” she says to Matteo, then turns to me. “And because the reforms you’re fighting for matter. I’ve seen how Church teaching has hurt people I care about. If you’rebrave enough to challenge that, while carrying the burden of your office…” She shrugs. “Then your personal life is your business.”

“Thank you,” I say, deeply moved by her acceptance.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, a mischievous glint returning to her eye. “As the sister who’s had to listen to Matteo complain about being single for years, I reserve the right to tease him mercilessly about finally finding someone—even if I can only do it in private.”

Matteo groans. “I knew there’d be a catch.”

“Of course there is,” Sophia says cheerfully, rising from her chair. “Now, I’ll wait in the car while you two say goodbye. Five minutes, Matteo. We have a political crisis to manage.”

As she leaves, there’s a brief exchange at the door as Captain Lombardi confirms her departure is voluntary. I make a mental note to speak with Lorenzo later—his discretion and loyalty deserve further acknowledgement.

Matteo pulls me into his arms. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“She took it better than I feared,” I admit, resting my head against his chest.

“Sophia’s always been my strongest supporter,” he says, his voice warm with affection. “Even when she thinks I’m being an idiot.”

“And now?”

“Now she thinks I’m being an idiot, but a happy one.” He tilts my chin up to look at him. “She’s right about that part.”

Our goodbye kiss is tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that our brief escape is ending. Reality awaits us both—him with his political battles, me with my theological ones. But something has shifted between us, a deeper commitment forged in our night under the stars and sealed with words of love.

“Until next time,” I whisper against his lips.

“Until next time,” he echoes, holding me close for one last moment before we must return to being Pope and Prime Minister once more.

17

Exposure

Marco

I stare at the black and white photographs spread across my desk, my heart hammering against my ribs. There we are—Matteo and I—locked in an unmistakable embrace on the beach, our silhouettes clear against the moonlight. Another shows us on the villa’s terrace, his hand cupping my face with such tenderness that even in grainy monochrome, the intimacy is undeniable.

“How?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Cardinal Sullivan closes my office door before answering. “Long-range lens. The photographer was positioned on a boat offshore—freelancer working for one of the tabloids.” He sits heavily in the chair across from me. “I was able to intercept him before publication. My contacts at the paper owed me a favour.”

“And the negatives?” I ask, knowing how these things work.

“Destroyed, along with all digital copies.” Sullivan’s weathered face shows no judgment, only concern. “He was generously compensated for his exclusive that never ran. The story is contained… for now.”

I gather the photographs with trembling hands, resisting the urge to linger on the images that capture moments I’ve replayed in my mind countless times since that night.

“Thank you, James.” I rarely use his first name, but this moment demands the intimacy of it. “I don’t know how to—”

He raises a hand to stop me. “Don’t thank me, Marco. This isn’t about approval or disapproval. This is about protecting you—and the reforms we’re fighting for.”

I nod, unable to meet his eyes. “I know what you must think.”

“You don’t, actually.” His tone makes me look up. “I’ve known many good priests who’ve struggled with this particular teaching. Some left. Some stayed and suffered in silence. Some found… accommodations with their conscience.”

“And what do you think I should do?” I ask, genuinely wanting his counsel.

Sullivan sighs, leaning forward. “As your advisor, I should tell you to end it immediately. The risk is astronomical—not just to you personally, but to everything we’re trying to accomplish.” He pauses. “But as your friend… I see how you’ve changed these past months. There’s a light in you that wasn’t there before.”

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