Page 177 of Bad Bishop
“Shh. There are two more surprises.” He yanked me to the other wing of the house. This feeling, of unrestrained happiness, was foreign to me. I felt like I could burst any minute with all the glee brimming inside me.
Tiernan stopped in front of a closed door, only a few feet away from a set of double doors down the hallway.
He opened the door.
It was an art room.
With huge windows to let the place air, a heavy wooden easel, a desktop, and portable drawers with supplies. There were canvases and brushes and pencils and paints. Inspiration boards and palettes and different shade lamps.
Tiernan knew nothing about art, and yet he took the time and the effort.
He did this for me.
He did all of this for me.
I cupped my mouth, overcome with emotions.
“This is perfect. Is it okay to cry now?” I signed. “Because I’m dangerously close.”
“Almost.” He put his finger in the air, motioning for me to hold. “Give me about…” He scowled at his watch. “Eight more minutes.”
I couldn’t imagine anything better than what he’d already shown me. But I nodded my agreement, letting him lead me back into the hallway, and in front of the double doors.
He stopped, turning to me fully. He shoved his hand into his front pocket, producing something small in his hand.
“What’s this?”
“I know that Tate Blackthorn gave you your first dance. I can’t take that away from him. Truth be told, I’m not sure I wantto. It’s your fondest memory, and as much as I hate him, I love that you have something that pleased you so much.”
My heart accelerated. My breath hitched. Tiernan’s fierce gaze bore into me, scorching through all of my protective layers.
He was wrong. It wasn’t my fondest memory at all. Every single moment with him was better than my first dance. Even the bad times, when we fought and drove each other to the brink of madness. Because we still did it together.
“But I wanted you to know that next to me, you’ll dance every night until your feet hurt. You will hear music and enjoy it.”
He raised his hands, unveiling a small hearing aid in his palm. It was a clear small tube attached to something that looked like a USB.
“Your doctor told me you won’t be able to hear the nuance of the music, but you can follow the soundwaves.”
And then I knew what it felt like to have your heart burst, because mine did, and warmth poured into my chest.
Tiernan reached for my ears and put the small device in each of them. He flicked the back of one of the devices. A static screech filled my ears, making my head hurt. I stumbled back, wincing.
He reached to grab my hands and steady me. I stared at him, shocked. Was I going to hear now?
“I love you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I heard him.
His voice was rough. Husky.Beautiful.
“I wanted it to be the first thing you’ll ever hear,” he explained. “So I’ll say it again—I. Love. You.”
I wanted to fall down on my knees and scream in triumph. Listen to my own voice. Bask in my laughter.
But before I could do any of that, Tiernan pushed the doors open and in front of me stood a lush, huge ballroom.
