These were important questions, and she’d much rather be having sex with him than asking them.

“I can get a job. I can teach piano lessons. I can work as a translator. Hospitals are desperate for trained translators. I can—”

“You can take the gift Kingsley is giving you and actually enjoy a year off? Spend time with me, him, Juliette and Céleste, and the new baby. Catch up on your sleeping, your reading. Take a Pilates class.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Okay, skip Pilates,” she said. “I do. You know, I think you’re forgetting something very important here.”

“Do tell,” he said.

“You inherited a massive trust fund when you were eighteen and you gave every cent of it to Kingsley. You can’t let him do one nice extravagant thing for you in return?”

“He set up a trust fund for Fionn. That’s more than enough.”

“God, you’re stubborn,” she said.

He glanced away again and Nora saw a flash of something in his eyes, an expression she rarely if ever saw on his face.

“What are you afraid of?” she asked him.

“I want it.”

“You want the house?”

He nodded.

“It’s okay to want things,” she said. “I’ve made a career of it.”

“Vow of poverty since I was eighteen. And if you think a vow of chastity is hard to keep…” He paused, looked away, then asked, “What if I can’t go back? What if I’m too happy here?”

“Too happy would be a good problem to have.”

“I’m not sure I should get to be that happy.”

“You fathered a child with a married woman, who you had permission to be with from both me and her husband. She wanted a kid. You gave her one. You didn’t rape anyone, murder anyone. You’d didn’t even steal. And you’re only suspended for one year. Even the Jesuits don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“There’s more to my punishment than I told you.”

“Ah, let me guess. Therapy.”

“Yes.”

God help that poor therapist.

“Spiritual counseling?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Forty lashes?”

“You wish,” he said. “I have to attend Mass every day when possible.”

“That’s all?”

It wasn’t all. Søren went silent for a moment, and Nora braced herself.

“I also have to present a notarized letter from Grace and Zachary stating that they want me to have no formal or informal relationship with Fionn.”

Nora stared at him, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

“In the old days, it was normal for the Church to keep a priest’s child a secret, to cover the whole affair up. Things are changing, as they should. If a Catholic priest fathers a child, he’s expected to leave the priesthood to be a part of his child’s life. If I’m going to be allowed back in the Jesuits, Grace and Zachary have to make it clear—and legally binding—that they don’t want or need me in Fionn’s life.”

“They’ll write the letter if you want them to,” she said. “It’s just words on a piece of paper. They would never stop you from checking on him, you know.”