Page 36 of Devour

“And I’m not qualified to pass judgment, nor grant forgiveness. All I can do is offer guidance and friendship.”

“Deacon Eli, he…”

“Is a sinner. Like us all. One can love the sinner and not the sin. As my closest friend, I can only pray to have a positive influence on his choices.”

Maybe I should worry about how this might affect my job, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was how I yet again found myself in a position where I got the brunt of the blame, despite not doing anything blameworthy. Neither had Rhory, which only irritated me even further.

And now, here I was, a grown man being lectured like a schoolboy. Over supposedly questionable morals, no less. So much of my life continued to be dictated by everyone but me. I wasn’t about to let someone tell me who I could and couldn’t befriend.

Father Michael exhaled and rubbed his temple. We could argue this subject until we were blue in the face, and I wouldn’t be budging. Thankfully, he seemed to realize as much.

“Very well.” Father Michael motioned for me to leave, then his hands clasped back together. He waited until I stood to leave, to comment while my back remained turned. “And keep in mind, I am not the only one you must answer to.”

I backtracked a few steps and faced Father Michael, looking down at him while he sat behind his desk. “If Bill would like to avoid any more of my religious interventions, he should stop hitting on strangers in bars—especially on friends of mine, and right in front of me.”

Seemed like the obvious answer to me. With that, I shrugged and left.

Tonight, I had interesting places to be, and with questionable people, as Father Michael might say. Asher officially entered the “introductions to friends and family” stage with his boyfriend. And what better way to test someone’s limits than bringing them around myself and Rhory? Considering he and his boyfriend had hit the one-year mark, this meeting should’ve taken place months ago. Between the demands of my job and Asher’s work schedule changing, we’d rescheduled multiple times over the last six months.

After stopping home, I went and got Rhory, since I felt confident he would want to spend some time together tonight regardless of how dinner went. As soon as the red in his hair faded, he switched to greens. I had not been a fan until recently, when he chose a deep emerald. This green went especially nice with his eyes, which were a radiant mixture of blue, green, flecks of gold, and even some brown. Truly indescribable, as were most things about him. After red, this particular green had been my favorite. It suited him.

Back at the same pub, like the creatures of habit we were, and sitting in a booth together while staring at the same menu. I didn’t know why we bothered. Rhory didn’t need to eat what this place offered, and I ordered the same meal almost every time. I supposed we both liked thinking this time we’d be different.

“Hey, guys,” Asher said, sliding all the way to the wall and sitting across from me.

The boyfriend took his seat across from Rhory, looking remarkably pale. This was not a comment on his complexion. His eyes widened as if he saw a ghost of his past. Or maybe a demon.

“These are my friends, Eli and Rhory,” Asher explained. “And this is Owen.”

You fed on this guy, didn’t you?

Rhory broke out into a wide smile. “Anyone ever tell you that you have one of those faces? Everyone feels like they’ve met you before?”

While I should not have cared, I mentally scolded Rhory for torturing the poor guy.

“I do meet a variety of people in my line of work,” Owen said, busily fiddling with the wrapper of a straw. Drinks weren’t even here yet, but the poor guy must’ve needed something to do. “They don’t realize why they recognize me, but people often do.”

“He’s a sommelier.” Asher supplied this addition with a wide grin, resting a hand on his boyfriend’s to stop his fidgeting.

That made me smile a bit, too. Asher had it so bad and I could already see it. His boyfriend’s job was far from illustrious. Yet Asher shared Owen’s job title with the same adoration as if he were a celebrity chef. Well, good for him. My friend was ridiculously happy.

“Over at that swanky restaurant in the middle of the city?” Rhory asked, despite knowing the answer.

“That’s the one.” Owen nervously laughed. “Lots of people come through that place.”

Probably shouldn’t ask. Still, I had to know. Firsthand or secondhand?

“Yeah, I get around a lot,” Rhory teased.

Ugh. Of course, firsthand. Owen wouldn’t be freaking out if he met Rhory in passing. He wasn’t reacting the way someone would upon seeing a regular or an acquaintance, but a one-night stand.

When was this? If thoughts could hiss, that would be the exact inflection of my internal speech. Not that I cared what Rhory did. No, I had to ask for Asher’s sake.

“I haven’t been to that place in years.” Rhory shrugged. “Excellent food, but I’m not sure I’ll be dining there again. Unless I get a sudden craving.”

That little—he had the audacity to smirk at me after that comment. “Lucky you, I’ve never even been,” I hinted.

“You are the jealous type,” Rhory teased.

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