Page 57 of Bad Bishop
Unfortunately, Tiernan became even more insufferable after I saved his life. He now insisted we have dinner together every evening. He brought delicacies from the Italian deli and spent the entire length of the meal watching me through his emerald eye, chipping at the walls I built around me with his ruthlessly cold exterior without speaking one word.
He let me come and go as I pleased, as long as I was escorted by four bodyguards. Since I was terrified of men, he sent Tierney with me whenever I visited Mama. I was so upset with the latter for hiding the internet from me, I ended up spending most of my time with Tierney, anyway.
I wasn’t sure why my sister-in-law had agreed to spend all this time with me. It neither fit her personality nor her busy social calendar. Yet she seemed happy to be with me. Alwaysbabbling away, showing me funny memes on her phone, asking me to show her the stables, the gardens, the pieces I left behind.
Today, I decided to take a break from Long Island. I sat at the living room window, watching the grimy street with my back to the door, when something soft tickled the space between my ear and neck. I squirmed, swatting it away, swinging my gaze up. My husband stood before me. He was clad in a smart peacoat, a loose gray scarf, and designer wingtips, shiny enough to display one’s reflection.
He was impeccably dressed. Not as lavishly as Camorrista—he had no jewelry, no diamond earrings, expensive watches, and silky shirts—but rather, like aman.
That fickle heart of mine missed a beat at the sight of him.
I had even warmed up to his eye patch.
He twirled a feather between his long fingers, his brow arched in wry amusement. “Head in the clouds,Gealach?”
The subtext stunned me into near-tears. He called my name, got no response, realized I couldn’t hear him, so instead of touching me to alert me of his presence, he used a barrier, a buffer between us to signal he was here.
Now that I thought about it, my husband kept a healthy distance from me unless we were having one of his one-sided arguments.
Something melted inside me, and I offered him a small smile, which he didn’t return. He put the feather back inside a decorative bowl on the credenza. “You have an OB-GYN appointment in thirty minutes. Get dressed.”
My mood soured, giving way to the metallic, cold blade of fear. It was becoming real. The pregnancy. The baby. Themarriage. I stilled, refusing to budge.
My mother promised she’d be the one to take me to the appointment. I forgot all about it.
Suppressed it from my memory, most likely.
Why wasn’tshehere?
Tiernan waltzed over to the kitchen to grab himself a protein shake and returned, his frosty exterior impenetrable. “Move it. I have a five o’clock appointment downtown.”
I peered around uncertainly. Not communicating with him was painful at this point. I wanted to ask about my mama.
Reading my mind for the millionth time, he sighed. “Your mother asked me to take you. Said she’s under the weather.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I was waiting to see if he’d touch me.Hurtme. A messed-up part of me hoped he would. This way, I’d be able to stop the temptation of confiding in him. My traitorous heart would cease cartwheeling every time he entered the room.
“Very well.” He moseyed over to my room, returning a moment later holding my phone. My eyes flared in panic. He couldn’t take away my phone. It was the only thing keeping me afloat.
How on earth did he even find it? I’d been hiding it underneath a loose floorboard ever since he caught me using it.
“Two options. One, you give me trouble, and I break this thing into five pieces.” His fist tightened around the device. “Two, you get dressed and play the obedient wife for an hour, and I link my PayPal to your phone and let you buy all the shit on your little supermarket list at the bottom of your drawer.”
My jaw slacked. When did he see it? Probably during one of my visits to Mama. He’d been snooping around my room. I’d be upset about it if I hadn’t returned the favor. At this point I could give guided tours in his master bedroom.
“Nice handwriting, by the way.” His smile stretched further. “Very neat.”
My cheeks flushed.
I was starting to see there was no fooling my husband. He knew where I kept my things. What I was thinking. What Iwas doing. What made me tick. Knew I wasn’t intellectually impaired. That I understood everything he said and did.
And he knew his coldness repulsed and fascinated me in the same breath.
Also, what was PayPal? Probably a type of credit card.
I licked my lips, considering his proposition. Why did he care that I visit the doctor?
Reading my mind once again, he said, “Your family won’t fulfill their end of the bargain unless you’re taken care of.”
