Page 89 of The Echo of Regret

Bishop chuckles then tugs me closer, if that’s even possible. “We’re not sixteen anymore, Gabi. We can sleep together if we want.”

I want nothing more than to stay here with him, but for a reason I can’t name, I decide against it. Instead, I slide off his chest and place my feet on the floor. “I should probably head home.”

He sighs and pushes himself up, first to sitting, then to standing next to me. “Or, hear me out…” He grins. “Don’t.”

I smile, shaking my head. Then I lean in and kiss him.

Bishop hums then pulls back, his eyes tracing my face. “I’ll get my coat.”

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at my house, dark except for the light over the front door, and I know Leah’s already gone to bed. She left the Mitchells’ house around six and told me to stay as long as I wanted, but she had to head home and get a good night of sleep before her trip.

Licking my lips, I glance at Bishop. “Hey, what do you think…about coming over tomorrow? Staying the night?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Leah’s heading down the mountain to do an art install tomorrow morning. Won’t be back until sometime Sunday.” I shrug. “If you wanted to hang out or listen to music or…whatever.”

His lips tilt up at the sides.

“Unless, you know…you still want to keep …drawing things out.”

I hadn’t planned that last part, but I couldn’t help myself. Things between Bishop and me have been fairly PG since we got back together, which isn’t bad by any means. We kiss a lot, and we hug and touch often. It’s rare for us to go too long without holding hands or wrapping each other in a hug when we’re in the same space.

But I can’t deny that I’ve been craving the physical intimacy. I originally hoped for something to happen when we went to San Francisco, which clearly did not end up working out, though it was for the better. The fight and the time at the hotel brought us together in an emotional way, and inviting Bishop over while my aunt is out of town is my very obvious attempt at bringing us together in a more physical way.

“If you want me here, I’ll be here,” he says, that charming grin of his stretched wide on his face. “Just let me know what time to show up.”

He tugs me across the center console and kisses me with all the same longing and passion and thirst I’ve been desperate for. He kisses me deeply, reverently, desperately, and as he shifts back, I can see in his eyes all the promise of what’s to come.

When Bishop opens the box of pizza sitting on the living room coffee table, I groan.

“I haven’t had a pizza from Reggie’s in forever,” he says, dragging a slice onto a plate and passing it to me before doing the same for himself. “The smell was taunting me in the car so much I almost pulled over and had some on the side of the road.”

I laugh. “Eating without me?” I pop a piece of pepperoni into my mouth. “I would have never forgiven you.”

“Hence the reason it remains in the box, untouched.”

Grinning, I lift up my slice and take a big bite, groaning again.

“Literally the best in the world,” Bishop says, nodding. “The absolute best.”

We lapse into a brief silence as we each inhale a few quick bites, nothing but Mumford and Sons playing softly on the record player. The familiarity of this simple act—eating pizza with Bishop while sitting cross-legged on the floor of my living room—takes me briefly back to the days when we would spend hours hogging the room, watching TV while snacking or eating while studying.

It’s different now, though. Bishop takes up more space, his large body dominates more of the couch, and the fact that we’re here alone was definitely not anything Leah would have ever allowed back then.

It’s nice. Familiar but still different, like most things with Bishop.

“So what’s Leah working on?” he asks, picking a few olives off his slice. “You said she’s installing some art?”

I nod. “Some woman in Sacramento commissioned a piece that reaches up to her 18-foot ceilings or something. It’s wild.”

“Sounds like it.”

“It’s going to require scaffolding in order to put up in this house. It’s a whole ordeal. There are like 50 pieces. It’s incredible, but it’s going to take two whole days to install, so she’s staying down there while she’s doing it so she’s not totally wiped from the drive both ways.”

Bishop nods, listening intently.

“I didn’t realize she’d started doing things like that. I mean, I knew she did macrame and wall art, but I thought it was on a smaller scale, like the stuff at your booth.”

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