Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)

IT’S BEEN three weeks since Dublin. It felt like a dream, and as soon as we got into the car to drive home, the dream ended and we woke up.

Callum said these things take time. He’s working up his letter of resignation to his bishop, and I can see the stress it’s causing him. He pours over the letter day and night.

We didn’t tell anyone about his plan, and I feel the excitement of it all waning with every passing moment. At the dinner table, I see his eyes on me. I see the guilt he feels, the remorse for not doing what he promised he would, and I hate that this is tearing him up.

Reaching my foot across, I gently rest it against his leg, and I offer him a warm expression. It doesn’t do anything to melt away the stress he’s carrying, but I keep it there anyway.

As for me, I’ve managed to shelf my nagging doubts. For now.

Which is good because it’s been replaced with a new form of anxiety. I’m two weeks late.

At first I figured it was just coming off the birth control that threw me off, but this morning, I noticed my breasts were sore and I could barely stomach the smell of sizzling ham from the kitchen.

Since buying a pregnancy test in a small town when you’re the only American girl and word travels fast, I forego the physical evidence and accept it for what it is.

I’m pregnant.

It’s not like I can be surprised about it. We’ve been banging like teenagers, and I haven’t been on the pill in over a month. Still, I can barely get out of bed with the way my guilt is chewing at me.

How will I tell him? He has enough on his plate right now, but if he doesn’t quit soon, people are going to do the math and realize that he and I were doing it long before he left his priesthood. What if he can’t leave?

We really didn’t plan this out. I know he’ll be happy, or at the very least, he’ll act happy. But I’ll know that deep down…I’m just another responsibility for him. Between the farm and the church, he has to figure out what to do with his pregnant mistress, who is also his employee.

Callum’s position at the church brings him income, albeit not a lot, it’s still money, and if he quits, he’ll be taking a pay cut. Can the hotel income support us all?

And then on top of everything, there’s the constant reminder weighing on my soul that I have not been completely honest with Callum. And I wanted to tell him that before all of this happened, but we rushed it. We fucked up. I fucked up. Again.

Sick of soaking my pillow with my own pitiful tears, I climb out of bed and get dressed. I don’t say a word to Bridget as I rush out the door. There’s not an ounce of makeup on my face, and my hair is stacked messily on my head. I look as fucked up as I feel.

This needs to happen now. I can’t wait another second, but the heavy emotion hanging on my heart nearly makes me want to turn around. Is bringing up the shitty things I’ve done in the past going to make anything right?

If Callum doesn’t want me after he knows the truth, it’s better to tell him now before it’s too late.

He’s in his office when I get to the church, and I storm in, slamming the door behind me. His head pops up from his bible, and I notice he’s writing his homily for tomorrow night’s service—not his resignation letter.

“Cadence.” His brow is furrowed, like he’s angry, and I watch it morph into concern as he takes in my appearance.

“I have to tell you something.” My voice cracks.

“Sit down,” he commands, but I can’t. I’m buzzing with energy, and I know if I sit, it will fizzle out and I’ll change my mind.

“No. I did something, and you have to know about it because you may not want me anymore once you know.” A sob shakes through my body, but I bite it back. He stands up, and I want to melt into his arms. I crave the comfort of his touch, but I can’t have that right now. I need to do this first.

Carefully, I take a long, steady inhale. Then I let the words out. “When I was sixteen, I got pregnant.”

That word alone stings. The memory is tied to it, and it immediately triggers painful memories I’ve never been able to bury.

He doesn’t answer, but he searches my features, waiting for me to continue.

“I wanted to keep it,” I sob, nearly doubling over from the pain, remembering how badly I hurt. “But my parents…”

Callum reaches for me, but I snatch my body away. Quickly, I say the next part before I chicken out. “I didn’t. I didn’t keep it, Callum. I had an abortion.”

He flinches, and I catch it. I watch the way he changes when he learns this about me. Hot tears leak across my cheeks as I clutch my abdomen, knowing what it hides. Feeling as if this is all too much, and I’ve somehow managed to fuck up so royally, I will never recover.

“Why are you so upset?” He reaches for me again, but I back myself against the door.

“Because that should be a deal-breaker for you. Because you have values that make you better than me, Callum, but you overlook them all the time.”

“What are you talking about?” His voice has deepened, growing frustrated.

“You’re Callum, the rule follower,” I sob. “That’s what you do. You follow the rules, do your duty, live your life guided by something or someone else, and now you’re letting me determine your life, but you need to know the truth about me.”

“I do know the truth about you,” he says so loudly it shakes the painting on the wall. Things are spiraling, and I see the panic set in his eyes. He’s starting to feel helpless because I’m tearing myself away, crumbling the walls of the sacred place we built together, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“Cadence, I don’t care about what you did when you were sixteen. If you think my values make me better than you, then you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you’ll do what’s expected of you. You live for your duty, and I know I came into this town as a temptation. I seduced you and as soon as you started fucking me, you realized that you’d have to do the right thing. You’d have to marry me.”

“Stop it,” he snarls with piercing anger in his eyes.

Every party of my body aches. This emotional pain is physical, and I hate myself for coming here and starting this, but I have no choice. I’m finally doing the right thing when for so long I’ve been doing nothing but fucking up.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Callum. I know it eats you up that you’ve been sleeping with me without being married to me.”

“Why are you doing this?” His fists are clenched at his side.

“Why haven’t you turned in that resignation letter?” I cry, pointing at the open laptop on his desk.

“I told you—”

“These things take time, I know. But I don’t think you want to resign, Callum. I think you’re torn. Torn by duty, torn because you don’t know who to follow anymore, God or me.”

“Just because I’m torn doesn’t mean…”

“I don’t want to tear you away anymore.” Nausea bubbles up my chest as I watch his anger melt away. It hurts so much, but I have to do this. It’s bad enough I’ve ruined my life; I don’t need to ruin his life too. If I stay, he’ll leave the church, work himself to the bone at the house. And there’s no going back from that. I love him too much to watch his devotion to me ruin his life.

“Don’t do this.” His cold-faced plea nearly breaks me.

“I’m going home, Callum.”

When he doesn’t move, his eyes still focused on my face, I bite down my guilt and send one last shot, putting this beautiful daydream out of its misery.

“Home, home. I’m going back to Pineridge.”