As her final customer finally got up to leave, Assumpta sank here weary limbs heavily onto one of the vacated Chesterfields by the fire.

It had been a long day. Longer still owing to the effects of last night's excess – and not only the wine. Every time that blasted bell above the door sounded, the publican would look up expectantly, equally hoping and dreading that Peter would appear.

With the memory of their kiss still etched on her lips, it was impossible to think straight.

She had asked Peter for closure but he seemed to have delivered quite the opposite. She was tired and wretched and more confused than ever.

From behind her, Assumpta could hear that dreaded bell sound again.

"We're closed," she muttered, for once not tempted to turn around.

"Not even for a half?" A soft English accent snapped her from her reverie.

"Hi…"

"Hi" Peter returned, equally nervous. "I hope you don't mind. The light was on, and I thought – "

"No, it's fine. Great even." Assumpta stowed her sweating hands in her pockets, and action that was mirrored by her visitor.

"So…"

"So." Assumpta rolled her eyes in annoyance – at herself and at Peter. She'd vowed that their next meeting wouldn't be awkward but here they were. Tongue-tied and self-conscious.

"I heard the woods had been saved. That's good news."

"For the badgers I suppose." Assumpta handed Peter a pint of his usual.

"Thanks. You still think Brian was onto a money-spinner there?"

"I guess we'll never know."

Her companion took a thirsty gulp from his glass. "I think that sometimes it's better to preserve what you have than to brood over what might have been."

It had been an off-hand comment with no real resonance to their own situation, the publican told herself, but Peter's words still burned.

"I guess so."

"Oh, no. I didn't mean…" Realising that he had been misinterpreted, Peter searched hastily for a way to salvage this; to convey the news he'd intended to deliver tonight.

"Look, it's late…" Assumpta started. "I should probably –"

Peter's eyes were wide with panic. "No, wait. I didn't finish…"

"Then finish."

"I had a conversation with Father MacAnally today."

"That must've been nice for you."

"Ordinarily no," the Priest explained. "But today – he was quite forthcoming."

"About?"

"What do you think?"

The landlady stepped back, aghast. "You told him?"

"I had to." It was now Peter's turn to be astounded. "I couldn't really have kept this a secret – "

"I have!"

"That's different," he explained carefully. This conversation was not going as well as he'd imagined. "Look, I told him that my feelings for you – "

"You have feelings for me?"

He looked at her like she'd gone mad. "Of course. Last night, I thought that was evident – "

"Nothing was evident last night." Assumpta drew her hand to her forehead in exasperation. "What feelings?"

"How do you –?"

"Envy, admiration, obsession, lov –" the publican caught herself. "Lust," she said instead. "Those are all feelings. Which of them are yours?"

"Sort of all of them – when it comes to you." Peter admitted with a crooked smile but Assumpta didn't look convinced. "Look, all I know is there is something here. For good or for bad, I can't seem to drive you out of my head."

He eyed her warily hoping for some flicker of understanding. Drawing a blank, he continued, "I think we owe it to ourselves to see what this is…"

A breath hitched in Assumpta's throat. Was this really happening? Although her heart swelled with expectation, her cautious head encouraged her to ask, "I wonder what your boss will have to say about that."

"God knows me well enough –"

"And Father Mac?"

"It was his idea."

Assumpta's hopeful heart suddenly deflated. Frank MacAnally never suggested anything that wasn't in his own interest.

Picking up on her trepidation, Peter approached the publican cautiously. He moved to put a reassuring hand onto Assumpta's shoulder but remembered all too well what such a gesture had led to last time. No, tonight he'd have to appease her with words and words alone.

Scanning his mind for the perfect thing to say, just one simple, partially true phrase presented itself. "I'm no longer a Priest."

Immediately his companion glanced up to greet his expectant gaze. "You what?"

"Today at the Rectory, I told Father MacAnally that I couldn't deny these feelings anymore. I wouldn't." Peter admitted, his heart racing at the new way Assumpta looked at him following this admission. "I have to find out if this is real. I have to see if we could work, so Father Mac suggested –"

But his sentence was cut short. Still reeling from his ground-breaking revelation that he'd left the Church, Assumpta closed the gap between them and caught Peter's mouth with hers.

Resting his hands on the small of her waist, Peter pulled her closer, savouring each and very aspect of this charged embrace. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he remembered and their kiss, just as fervent.

Breathlessly, Assumpta pulled away and mumbled, "You're sure?"

"More than ever," he returned automatically without really hearing her. Instead he leant in to reclaim her mouth once more.

Assumpta smiled broadly into their kiss, hardly believing that this was actually happening. He'd given up the priesthood for her. How was that even possible? She edged towards the fireplace, pulling him with her, surrendering her cardigan to the firm grasp of his fists. Within seconds it had fallen to the floor, joined soon thereafter by Peter's coat and shirt.

Somehow they ended up on the couch, Peter pressed against her with the entirety of his frame. At that moment, he realised that he'd never even seen Assumpta's bare shoulders before and now here he was, running his mouth along the flex of her clavicle.

Is this really happening? Were they really doing this? Peter realised immediately why Father Mac had insisted that he take a complete break from being a Priest. He needed to explore this desire that had threatened to devour him. He needed to play this out.

In Peter's wildest imaginations he could never have believed that Assumpta would have responded to this compromise as well as she had. But here she was, untucking his T-shirt from his jeans, kissing him freely and unashamedly, like he'd just told her that he'd left the priesthood for good –

Oh no…

As if on cue, Assumpta whispered into his ear. "You're all mine now, you know that? You belong to me."

How could he have neglected to tell her that this was just temporary? That he would probably go back to the Priesthood in a little over a week.

"Sumpta…" he warned, but she took no notice. Instead, she wrestled his T-shirt over his head and was moving her attention to unbuckling his belt. The temptation to let her was overwhelming.

"Assumpta," he tried again but her fingers had found the hardness through his jeans.

"I want you, Peter."

It was impossible to move. It was impossible to think. All Peter was aware of was her raspy voice in his ear and the irrepressible pleasure of her hands against him. "I want you…" he returned desperately.

As more garments joined the piles of clothes on the floor, it became agonisingly clear that just a thin layer of material divided them.

As if realising this herself, Assumpta slowed the pace of her kiss. She stared at Peter and asked hopefully. "You really left?"

"In a manner of speaking…"

Her brow wrinkled at this new ambiguity. "Meaning…"

Peter chose his next words carefully. "I've taken a sabbatical."

Judging by the horrified expression on the publican's face, he had chosen incorrectly.

"You what?"

"Other Priests," he explained trying to hide the panic in his voice, "when faced with a similar situation, they take a holiday of sorts. A break from the priesthood."

"A holiday?"

From the way she spat those words, Peter knew that things were heading south – and fast. He had to salvage this. "It just gives us a few days. To find out what it is we have here."

Assumpta, suddenly feeling very exposed, hastily began to do up the buttons on her dress. "Well, we all know what you had in mind to pass the time."

"What? No – I didn't. I never thought…"

"Stop."

"No, really. When Father Mac suggested this –"

"Wait. What did you say?"

Oh no. "He said that maybe a break would help."

Assumpta looked as if she might explode. "Help with what exactly?"

Ignoring the obvious implications of her question, Peter offered, "Help me to figure this out. Decide what it is that I want."

"So, what? He's giving you relationship advice now?"

"Hardly." Suddenly painfully aware of his own nudity, Peter began to scan the room for his clothes. "Look, it's not like I could talk to anyone else about this."

"You can talk to me. You can always talk to me."

"Not about this."

"Then what are we even doing here?" Assumpta sunk her shoulders in dismay and walked over to the door. "You can go now."

"And then what?"

"Just leave, Peter."

"No. Not until you tell me that I haven't messed this up."

Assumpta shook her head soberly. "There's nothing to mess up."

"Wait. Please wait. Let me make this right."

"Goodnight, Peter." she whispered, her eyes focussed on anything but his face.

"Assumpta, please."

"Goodnight." This time she looked pointedly at him. The look of hurt in her eyes was impossible to miss.

Peter stepped begrudgingly into the cold night air. "I'm sorry. I…" but it was already too late. Assumpta was gone with the door, firmly closed behind her.