Anthony wanted to say that it wasn't something he felt comfortable talking about, but he was pretty sure Metatron knew everything already. But he could feel himself blushing anyway. "I'm trying," he said softly. "I want it to work. But it's just...all I've known for so long. I almost feel like I don't know how to stop."
The words felt like a rebuke, sharp as a slap. But painful truth was what he needed to hear, even if it wasn't comfortable for him. And it brought to mind Maria, all those years ago. How he couldn't find her in time. How he'd carried the guilt for over 700 years. He still blamed himself, and he told Metatron as much. "But you're right. I need to let it go."
That voice. That wasn't Metatron anymore. Anthony could feel a fine tremble start up under his skin, to hear God's words being spoken directly to him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, sinking into a chair. "I never meant to...I just...it doesn't matter. Every excuse falls short." He stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go put the coffee on."