Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)

THREE MONTHS LATER…

“Merry Christmas,” I call to the housekeeping staff as I drop three boxes of home-baked cookies on the table in the break-room.

The three older women all answer with wide smiles and come running toward me with hugs and pats on my belly. It’s still a bump small enough to be hidden by my uniform, but they love to rub it anyway. I know most pregnant ladies hate it, but I love it. The only reason they even found out I was expecting was because I couldn’t stop rubbing it myself.

“Where are you headed looking so pretty?” Gertie asks as she touches my curled hair and dangling earrings.

“Midnight Mass, actually.”

They all practically start glowing at that. I haven’t told them about the baby’s father, but I bet they wouldn’t be as smitten with me if they knew the truth. Giving them all one last hug, I grab my bag with my uniform stashed in it, and head out the door.

I started at the Pineridge Inn three months ago, and I did not tell them about my situation. They gave me a good shift at the front desk, which was a blessing for someone with little experience and no education. My online classes don’t start until January, but I’m hoping to move my way up and get at least one promotion by the time the baby comes.

The job is perfect, but it does make me miss the B&B most days. I still get to talk to guests, but no one wants to stick around and talk to the front desk girl the way they wanted to in Ennis. There are no sit-down dinners, and our continental breakfast isn’t nearly as social. Still, it’s great. I like the people I work with, and there’s a certain satisfaction I get from getting each of our guests whatever they need.

I haven’t talked to Callum yet, but I’m working up to it. There’s a part of me that knows that when I do finally reach out to him, he’s going to hate me for keeping this from him. Maybe that’s why I’m waiting. So that he’ll be so mad at me, he won’t feel obligated to stay with me.

When I went to the doctor for the first time, and I heard that little heartbeat, I broke down and sobbed right there on the table. I heard Callum in that heartbeat, and I couldn’t leave my bed for three days with how bad I felt about it. He’s going to hate me for having to miss that, and I don’t blame him.

Now I’m nearly twenty weeks, halfway there. I’m not as sick anymore, not as tired, but my hourglass has lost its shape, and I’m starting to look more like a potato than a person. Standing in heels at work has lost its appeal, so now I switch to a pair of Sunny’s sneakers that I stole to get me through the day. I didn’t expect pregnancy to move so fast.

Every night after I get off, I take this walk along the quiet downtown street, past the field of cherry trees to the church at the end of the road. The walks remind me of Ennis, and although California is nothing like Ireland, there are moments where I feel at home.

I haven’t gone through conversion or anything like I’m supposed to join the faith properly, but when I first discovered the church after I started at the inn, I couldn’t help but go in. It felt like he was there. He being Callum, and He being God. Like my heart had melted them into one, and I could be alone with both of them. It was the first time I felt the peace that I left behind, and I became addicted to it.

So I started going to Mass, skipping the Eucharist after I learned that Callum should have never let me receive it in the first place because it was strictly for actual Catholics. But then again, Callum shouldn’t have done a lot of things we did.

In fact, Mass was the only thing that could really get me out of my funk. Not even work could do that. Once I started coming here, getting lost in the rhythmic cadence of the Hail Mary prayers, watching babies get christened and choirs sing, I felt like myself again.

I even made a few friends. Turns out there is a whole group of single Catholic women that meet once a week, and even though I told them I wasn’t technically a member, they let me come anyway. In the church, we talk about being a woman and our relationship with God. Outside of the church, we talk about being a woman and our relationship with men. They’re some of the funniest, dirtiest, most caring women I’ve ever met. And they all think I should call Callum.

I spot them waiting for me in front of the church, and I wave as I cross the street. Then a dark figure standing by the door makes me stop in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the street, I figure I must be seeing things. As he steps toward me, into the light, I start to feel lightheaded.

“Get your arse out of the street,” he bellows, and his voice, that accent, knocks the air out of my lungs.

It does nothing to break me out of my daze, but the blaring car horn does.

Suddenly, he has my arm in a tight grip and he’s dragging me to the curb at the bottom of the church steps.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I stare up at him in awe. The streetlight behind him illuminates the golden hue to his hair which has grown a bit longer with the same gray strands along the crown and temple. But that’s not the first thing my senses register. The first thing is his smell. It’s the only way I know I’m not crazy and he’s truly here. He has that same cologne and cotton smell, no longer with that acidic scent of cigarettes or the soothing smell of the anointing oils he used to carry.

“Callum,” I say in one quick breath.

“Cadence, are you okay?” one of the girls calls out toward me in concern.

I glance toward my waiting friends, and the other ladies point toward Callum while mouthing, Is that him?

Quickly, I nod and wave toward them. “Go inside, ladies. I’ll meet you in there.”

As soon as they’re gone, I turn toward Callum, holding my bag in front of me as if he would notice the tiny swell to my stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“Sunny told me you’d be here.”

“In Pineridge, Callum. What are you doing in Pineridge?”

He doesn’t answer, just tilts his head toward me, giving me that same same stoic, quiet expression I remember from my first days in Ireland, and it has me feeling weak. I could give into him at this very moment and forget about everything—well almost everything.

I have to tell him about the baby now, before he can say another word.

“Callum—”

“Can I take you to Mass? Then we can talk later?” He puts out his arm toward me, inviting me to take it, and I feel myself trembling as I touch the thick sweater that hugs his broad shoulders.

Without another word, he walks me inside. This church is about twelve times bigger than his in Ennis. There’s a line at the door as we collect the programs from the usher. I walk him to where I usually sit toward the back. He sits down quietly next to me, and I look up at him, our eyes meeting for one charged moment.

Three months feels like years when you’re missing someone so much everyday, but then when they’re sitting right next to you, it’s like there was never a moment apart.

As the service starts, I try to relax like I usually do. The music, the prayers, the warmth, and the smells, I try to lose myself in it, but Callum is sitting next to me, and I can barely breathe.

Then I glance at his face, and watch him as he prays, eyes closed and serious, and it’s so beautiful, I feel myself getting misty-eyed. I try to tear my eyes away, but he is a force and I’m drawn in, unable to move. His eyes open and he turns toward me just as a tear falls from my face. He moves to catch it, and then I’m in his arms, sitting in the back row of this crowded service, but I don’t care. He holds my body, and I weep silently against this chest.

Suddenly, he has me by the hand, pulling me toward the exit. Just through the doors, he turns and places my back at the wall. We can still hear the service going on behind us, and I’m desperate to keep his body away from mine so he doesn’t feel the way it’s changed.

“Cadence, you were right about everything,” he whispers. “It was wrong of me to keep my vows while falling in love with you. You deserved better.”

“Callum,” I mumble trying to push him away, but he only presses closer.

“I should have never proposed to you until I was laicized.”

“Wait.” I look up at him with wide eyes. “It’s Christmas…you should be…”

“I’m not a priest anymore, Cadence.”

Just then, they begin a song behind us, and my ears are still ringing from his words. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry it took so long. I promised myself I wouldn’t talk to you again until I was a free man, and now I am. I’m yours.”

“No, no, no.” I snake my way out and rush through the door into the cold, night air. He calls after me, but I keep up my pace toward the hotel where my car is parked.

“I thought you’d be happy,” he says, coming up quickly behind me. Then his hand is around my waist, across my bulging stomach as he pulls me back toward his body, and I feel him tense. I try to maneuver out of his grasp, but he feels it. I know he does.

“Cadence.” There’s that deep timbre that sends chills down my spine.

All of the words I’ve been sleeping with the last three months start spilling out of my mouth. “I am happy, Callum. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I got scared, but I was afraid that you’d give up everything for me just because it was your duty, and I didn’t know if I could ever accept that you really loved me.”

His eyes are on my stomach, and I don’t bother hiding it anymore. “Are you…”

“I’m sorry,” I sob, dropping my hands into my face. “I should have told you sooner, but—”

His hand is around the back of my neck and I’m slammed against his chest as his arms engulf me. This time I let my stomach rest against his, and I feel his chest shudder as I do. We stand there for a while, listening only to the distant music inside the church and the sound of each other’s breath.

Before pulling apart, his deep voice against my head sends chills down my spine. “Don’t apologize to me again, Cadence. I’m the last person who deserves your confessions. I did give up my job for you, but I’d do it again and again because you’re worth it. Don’t ever doubt that again.”

I pull my face away from his chest and our mouths crash together, his tongue against mine making me feel like I’m already home. His hands roam my body like he’s remembering every old curve and learning every new one.

With his hands on my hips, he pulls his mouth away from me. “I want to see it.”

And I know he means my belly, so I loosen my cardigan and open it so he can see the subtle rise and fall under my tight shirt. His fingers reach out and rub the gentle mound, and my throat begins to ache with the lump building there.

Then, right there on the street in front of the church, Callum drops to his knees in front of me. His hands still on my hips, he pulls my body until my stomach is against his lips. I stroke the thick hair on his head as I watch the toughest man I’ve ever known crumbles.

I think I always knew he’d come, and maybe that’s what I was waiting for. I always wanted Callum to make the first move. I needed to know he wanted me for me, and he crossed an ocean for me. These past three months were painful, but I needed him to make that step, and he needed me to stand up for myself. The months were hard, but our faith was stronger.

“Callum,” I whisper. When he looks up at me with his red-rimmed eyes, I smile. “I want to go home.”