Page 43 of The Princess, the Prick & the Priest (Confessions 4)

When they reached the brightly lit living room, Priest spotted Antonio sitting in the well-worn recliner. He looked exactly the way Priest imagined a father should look on a Sunday morning, with a newspaper open and a pair of eyeglasses perched on the end of his nose.

He was wearing navy lounge pants, a white t-shirt, and a blue robe, and when he saw Priest and Julien walk in the room, Antonio closed the paper and set it down on his lap.

“I didn’t think we’d see you two up this early,” he said, and then his eyes landed on Priest, and he smirked, much the same way his son did. “Especially you.”

Okay, Priest thought. I have some work cut out for me there.

“We tend to be early risers,” Julien said, coming to Priest’s rescue.

“I bet Robbie loves that.”

Julien laughed. “He hates it.”

“I believe you. He was a nightmare to wake up for school.”

“He really was,” Sofia said. “Always wanted to be up early enough to get ready, but complained the entire time. He was worse than the girls. Except for Felicity. I swear, those two have always been thick as thieves. They could’ve been twins.”

At the mention of twins, Priest looked at Julien to make sure he was okay, and the warm smile his husband directed toward Sofia solidified just how far Julien had come over the months.

“I had a twin sister, Jacquelyn,” Julien said. “So I understand that closeness for sure.”

As the past tense of that comment registered, Sofia said, “I’m sorry if I—”

“Non, non. Please don’t be sorry. In fact, this weekend with you and your family has been wonderful. And if it wasn’t for your son, I wouldn’t be able to talk so freely about her today.”

Sofia looked to her husband, and Antonio acknowledged Julien’s comment with a nod before clearing his throat and saying to his wife, “Did you need me for something?”

“What? Oh, no,” she said, and then beamed at Priest. “I came in here to tell you that this young man has a soft spot for your idol.”

“My—”

“Ol’ Blue Eyes.”

“You like Sinatra?” Antonio said, and then got to his feet, tossing the paper down in his chair.

“I do,” Priest said. “Very much.”

Antonio looked Priest up and down but said nothing, then he made his way over to the large shelf that lined one of the living room walls. “Come with me.”

When they’d all been in there the day before, they hadn’t really gotten a chance to look around. But as they moved closer to the shelf, Priest noticed it was full of books and photographs, and saw several of Robbie. Some on his own and some with his sisters.

“Cute, wasn’t he?”

Priest was once again shocked by Antonio. He was so accepting of his son, and for Priest and Julien, that was such a foreign concept that it was both strange and beautiful to behold.

“Still is,” Priest said, and Julien added, “But we probably shouldn’t tell him. He’ll use it against us.”

Antonio let out a booming laugh. “That he will. My boy is shameless.”

“Your boy is wonderful,” Priest said without even planning to, and Antonio sobered in an instant and pinned him with a look Priest knew well. It was protective and one hundred percent a warning.

Antonio said, “I’m glad you know that.”

“We do,” Priest said, and Antonio nodded and reached for the two handles on the shelf.

As he pulled them open, an old turntable came into view, and on several shelves above it was a vinyl collection that would rival any record store.

“Mon Dieu,” Julien said. “That’s a lot of records.”

“Damn right,” Antonio said, pride filling his voice. “I’ve been collecting for a lot of years. That shelf right there, that’s my man Frank.”

Priest’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed.”

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t. What’s your favorite song?”

Priest shrugged. “How can you pick?”

Antonio whacked him on the arm. “You can’t. But there’s always one or two.”

Priest nodded as he looked at Julien. “You’re right. I’d say ‘Young at Heart’ and ‘I’ve Got you Under My Skin’—”

“That’s for other people,” Antonio said. “We all have those songs. What about for you. What’s your song? We all have one.”

It was slightly uncanny how well Antonio read him, and when Priest opened his mouth to say, Antonio held up a finger.

“I’ve got it,” he said as he reached for a 45, pulled it down, and handed it to Priest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Priest wanted to, but he was too blown away by the fact that Antonio was spot-on.

“My Way” had been Priest’s favorite Sinatra song since the first time he’d heard it. It was the song he’d always lived by. The one that had given him the courage and strength to work and become more than where he’d come from. To not live his life like his father, but instead his own way.

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