Page 211 of Bishop

I wince and drag my hand through Tilly’s hair, delicately trying to untangle the knots she wouldn’t let me brush this morning. “I think I just need to see for myself that he’s okay.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

No. It’s so much more.

I’m wallowing in heartache. Gorging on sorrow.

“I barely know him.” I sigh. “Yet it doesn’t feel that way.”

“Some people spend years together and never get dragged through the events you two had to face in such a small stretch of time. You would’ve learned more about each other in those days than most couples figure out by the time they get married.”

That’s exactly what it seems like. That the intense moments we shared fast-tracked us through so many emotional checkpoints but exposed a wealth of vulnerabilities, too.

He knows the worst of me. He’s experienced it firsthand.

Now all I want is the ability to apologize.

“I feel guilty.” I keep my voice low. “He didn’t even say goodbye. And after everything that happened, I don’t want him to hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Matthew mutters from a few feet inside the penthouse.

“How do you know?” I scrutinize him. “How could you possibly have any idea how he feels unless you’ve lied about speaking to him?”

He doesn’t respond, only readjusts his suit jacket in silence.

“Have you spoken to him?” I frown.

Layla awkwardly clears her throat.

“Have you?” I repeat louder.

“No. We haven’t spoken a damn word, but I fuck—” Matthew cuts off the curse too late, his attention snapping to Tilly in apology. “But I know him. You don’t need to worry about any sort of ill feelings toward you.”

I wish I believed him.

I wish any sort of other motivation made sense. But for Bishop to vanish from my life after what we went through screams of animosity and anger. I can’t imagine doing the same to him.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Layla walks into the penthouse, passing Matthew. “I’m going to do some snooping and make sure the cleaners I contracted did a good job.”

I follow a few steps after her, entering my new home to be greeted by high ceilings, polished floorboards, an immaculate kitchen, and a breathtaking view from the massive wall of glass.

It looks like the front cover of a house magazine—perfectly curated, loads of style, and absolutely no heart.

Matthew remains quiet, staring across the open living area, his mind seeming elsewhere as Tilly’s cheek nestles into my neck, the little bunny tight in her hands.

I’m not sure I’m going to like it here. Not when my thoughts, before and after crossing the threshold, are smothered with memories of Bishop.

He’s tainting my fresh start. I’m so haunted I swear I can smell him in the air.

“It’s a serious thing, him walking away.” Matthew turns to me, his face solemn. “He’s turned his back on Lorenzo. On his responsibilities. On the organization.”

All because of me, I add silently.

“I never would’ve thought it possible,” he continues. “He’s the most loyal man I know. But that’s why I’m certain his disappearance is temporary. He has to come back. Leaving isn’t an option.”

“I don’t blame him for staying away.” I turn in a slow circle, noting the expensive leather sofas, the thick, wooden dining table. “One of the last things he said was how Lorenzo demanded we get married. I would’ve run for the hills, too.”

“He doesn’t run from responsibility, Abri.”

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