The priest must see it too, because he moves first, holding out his hands. “Come here, child. Let me look at you.” He waits patiently for her to take his hands and tugs her forward a step. “You look good.” For any other man, those words would be lewd and crass. Hell, they were when I said them. Father Elijah actually means them exactly how they sound. “I’m so proud of you.”
Her bottom lip quivers the tiniest bit before she locks it all down. “I’ve been working at a kink club for five years, Father. I practically have Sinners ‘R Us tattooed on my forehead.”
He gives an easy smile. “You got out. You’ve made something of yourself and you’re doing good for those who don’t have your resources.”
A faint blush colors her cheeks and she won’t quite meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, child. We never have to speak of those monthly donations.”
I manage to school my expression before they both look at me. I had no idea Tink was sending money to the church. There’s no reason I should know that, but, fuck, it doesn’t even surprise me now that I think of it. It’s exactly something she’d do.
“Shall we?” I motion Nigel and Colin into the room and shut the door. Despite there being three years between them, they could almost pass as identical twins. The only difference is that Colin wears a full beard and has a penchant for graphic T-shirts from 80s rock bands. Today’s is AC/DC.
Tink narrows her eyes as she looks at the papers I lay on the desk. “You already got us a marriage license. Somehow. Despite the fact that I’m supposed to be present for that.”
“Just greasing the wheels.” I hand her a pen. “Sign here.”
“You’re such a bastard.” She doesn’t hesitate to sign, though, and then practically stabs me with the pen when she thrusts it back at me. I follow suit.
Father Elijah shakes his head. “I didn’t want this for either of you.”
I can appreciate his sentiment—I didn’t want this shit for me, either—but marrying Tink doesn’t even rate on the list of horrible things I’ve had to do over the years. It’s necessary, yes, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. Didn’t want her.
Father Elijah arranges us before him. I start to tell him we don’t need the full show, but he shuts me up with a harsh look. I stare down at Tink as he goes through the whole song and dance of our wedding vows. Even in her heels, she barely comes up to my shoulder. It’s so easy to forget how short she is because her personality expands her presence. It’s not doing that right now. She looks too pale and a little wide around the eyes as she says, “I do.”
I repeat it when it’s my turn, and it feels a whole lot like promising shit I have no ability to give. She knows that, though. She’s walking into this fully aware of cost, the same as me. If I’m the one who forced her to this point, I’m not sorry I did it.
Father Elijah sighs. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Chapter 5
Tink
As tempting as it is to knee Hook in the balls, I am overly aware of Father Elijah watching us. He’s a good man and one of the few things I found bearable during my time with Peter—at least until that was taken from me, too.
In the end, he was the straw that broke the camel’s back. After Peter forbid me from attending church, Father Elijah tried to intervene. In the aftermath of that, it felt like I woke from a long sleep. I’d known I wasn’t getting out of my relationship with Peter alive, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself at the time. But realizing that I’d take down innocents, too? That I couldn’t stand for.
So I ran. Took the route and resources I’d been too terrified to contemplate before, and fled to Hades, where I begged him to save me. He could have demanded anything and I would have accepted. By comparison, five years is a bargain.
Now I’m making a different kind of bargain, though it’s just as driven by fear as the last.
I lift my face and let Hook press a surprisingly sweet kiss to my lips. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I have to fight not to step forward, not to close the distance between us, not to nip his bottom lip so he’ll really kiss me.
He lifts his head and grins. “Let’s do this.” Then he takes my hand and tows me toward the door.
Father Elijah gives a rough laugh. “Don’t be a stranger, Tatiana.”
It takes two tries to form words. “I won’t.” Every time someone calls me by the name I intentionally left behind, it feels like they’re forcibly shoving me back into a skin that’s too small. I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t want to ever be her again.