The playful grin slides off his face. He eyes me in earnest and utters under his breath, “God help you if you do, Cat.”

Chapter Eleven

As soon as the motorbike enters the gates, I spot him. And my chest tightens. His body stiff, as though ready to pounce, he glares at us as we approach. This is not Bob. This is Father Robert. Bob is easy-going and funny. Father Robert is droll and serious. And by the looks of things, I’m in deep shit.

When the bike stops a few feet away from him, he steps forward in a show of threat. “Where the heck have you been?”

Marco immediately responds, “Went into town.”

He glowers at Marco. “Not you, moron; although, I’ll get to you in a minute.”

Pulling off the helmet, I adjust my veil. My heart races and I respond a meek, “I went to the library.”

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

As soon as I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake. “Marco knew.”

Father Robert narrows his brows and repeats slowly, “Marco knew?”

My eyes look anywhere but at him. “I assumed we wouldn’t be long, and I know Marco has a cell phone. I’m sorry if I worried you, Father.”

Father Robert sighs deeply, and then Bob appears, “Marco does have a cell phone, and I called that cell phone,” his lip curls at Marco, “but he didn’t answer it.”

A look of surprise crosses Marco’s face as he pats his pockets. He cringes when he realises his phone isn’t there. “Shit, man, I must’ve left it in my room. I always take it with me. Sorry, Bob. Won’t happen again.”

Bob takes a menacing step forward until he and Marco are almost nose-to-nose. “Damn right, it won’t happen again. You stay away from Cat. You get me, boy?” I watch as Marco’s jaw steels and his eyes turn cold. Bob says quietly, “I know what you’re doing. Back the fuck off. You don’t get paid to stick your nose in other people’s business.”

Never in my life have I heard Bob speak to somebody this way. I’m in a state of shock.

When Bob retreats to the church, I stand there—a foot away from Marco—where I watch his jaw stiffen further and further.

Not thinking, I place my hand on his arm.

He jerks away so violently my stance quickly turns defensive.

Marco speaks through gritted teeth. “He’s right. You should stay away from me.” Silence, then, “I’d hate for you to get hurt, Cat.”

I start, “Marco—”

His eyes hard, he cuts me off with, “I mean it, Cat. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay far away from me.”

I watch him get back on his bike, start it up and speed back towards the road that leads to town. My mind tries to comprehend everything that just happened. Only one thought remains.

My once simple life is anything but that.

***

Tonight is a special occasion.

My feet move around the other women in the kitchen in a dance we have choreographed and perfected over the years. We work well together.

It’s Clark’s birthday today, so tonight, we feast like kings.

Frankie and I prep the dinner portion of the meal, while Ari works on making individual chocolate soufflés for everyone. It’s a finicky thing, baking a soufflé, even more so when making one for everyone, but Ari does this with such grace and precision; it’s a wonder she can hear anything going on around her.

When Ari bakes, the world melts away. She becomes locked in a secure bubble.

This is her happy place.

Frankie peels carrots and potatoes to roast. I season the many racks of lamb to join them. Frankie works the dough for her specialty—handmade pasta. I make the Napolitano sauce from scratch. Ari washes lettuce for the salad, while I quietly chop tomatoes.

Bob approaches.

Bob gets shooed away by three busy women.

Working in the kitchen can be fun when the three of us are together, whereas morning kitchen duty is boring with a capital B.

“So, Cat, what did you get Clark for his birthday?” Frankie probes.

My body turns cold with dread. Slowly turning, I ask with disbelief, “We’re doing presents this year? We never do presents!”

Ari rolls her eyes. “I did not get him anything, chéri. Do not panic.” Turning to Frankie, she scolds, “Do not freak her out.”

Frankie—still peeling vegetables—grins. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure I know what Clark wants for his birthday, but it can only come from you.”

I’m confused. “Why only me?”

Frankie leans in close and looks around in secrecy before she answers, “Because the boy is in love with you, Cat. He wouldn’t want a kiss from anyone else.”

A kiss?

A kiss with Clark?

Laughter bursts out of me so viciously Frankie’s hand flies to her chest as she jumps back in fright. “Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell is so funny?”

Still chuckling, I explain, “Clark and I are friends! We’ve always been friends. We’ll always be friends. Nothing more. He doesn’t think of me like that. I would know if he does. He would tell me.”

Her eyes narrow. “He would’ve told you, would he?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Taking a piece of tomato off my chopping board, she tosses it into her mouth and talks around it. “Then how come he told me this just last week?”

I pause mid-chop. My head lifts. A look of astonishment masks my face.

Peeling away, Frankie utters sarcastically, “Oh, but I’m sure he would have told you if he were head-over-heels in love with you for the last three years. I’m sure.” She drags out the last word, and then adds a pffft noise. “’Cause Clark isn’t the least bit insecure when it comes to you. No. Not at all. He’s so confident you love him back that he’s been hiding how he feels all this time.” Her expression turns exasperated. “Wake up and smell the roses, Cat! He’s scared to tell you how he feels!”

My steady heartbeat suddenly quickens.

Could she be right?

I think back to two years ago.

As I shuffle papers, Clark appears by my side. “How’s it going?”

I smile up at him. “I’m good, thanks.”

He laughs awkwardly and scratches his chin. “That’s great, Cat, really. But I meant how’s the job going?”

My cheeks flush. “Oh.” I laugh uneasily. “Umm. It’s okay, I guess.”

Clark’s smile fades. “It’s been over a month, Cat. You need to move it. We need that Intel, and we need it now.”

But ending the job means ending my time with James.

How am I supposed to do that to the person I love?

I don’t think I can do it.

I make a grave mistake. Before I can think about what I’m saying, I blurt out, “James doesn’t know anything, Clark. I swear. He’s a good guy. I know him. He’s not a bad guy. We got it wrong this time.”

He stares at me long and hard before moving closer to me and whispering, “Cat, think about what you’re saying...what you’re doing. Think about which side you’re taking and why.” His expression turns hurt. “You can’t choose him over me...us. You just can’t.”

I don’t respond. Clark doesn’t understand what James and I have.

None of them do.

They’re all against him, and they don’t even know him. In order to avoid this argument, I tell him, “I just need another week.”

Clark is not a stupid man. He knows exactly what I’m doing. His features harden. “He can’t give you what we can, Cat. He is exactly what we said he is. We’re your family. He’s nothing. And you’re everything to...us. Please don’t force my hand on this. You have one week.” He takes a step away from me, expression cold. “If you’re not done in a week, I’ll have to tell Bob about this.”

It would certainly explain why he was so protective of me when it came to James. But even if Clark did love me, the question remains.