37
As we slowly clean up and gather our things—both of us dragging our feet, reluctant to leave our little s*x-chapel—I confront the other barrier between us.
Jamie. The broken engagement.
“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I say carefully, picking up part of the condom wrapper from the floor and tucking it into the satchel, “But not a day goes by that I’m not sorry for what happened in the hermitage, what I made you do—”
“You didn’t make me do anything,” he cuts in. “You felt me against you that day. I wanted every bit of it and more. And don’t act like you didn’t have as much to lose.”
“But I—if I hadn’t kissed you, then you and Jamie might still be—”
“No, Aiden,” he says. “We wouldn’t.”
We stare at each other from across the altar. From the corner of
