Page 226 of Bishop

What if he never comes back?

“Wait here. I won’t be long.” I follow Tilly, trying to decompress while I read her a quick book and tuck her in to bed. But all I can think about are all the things I thought my brother had spoiled me with over the past month.

The cleaning staff. An endless supply of food and gifts.

Girlie sheets. Princess quilts. Toiletries.

I’d assumed Matthew and Layla had overindulged us. Now I wonder if it was Bishop the entire time.

When I return to the open living area he’s standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his body turned toward the view. Tall. Quiet. Commanding.

I close the hall door behind me. The latch clicks. He pivots to face me.

“Did you organize all the deliveries?” I make my way to the kitchen to turn on the baby monitor near the fridge, Tilly’s soft mumbles murmuring into the room. “The food. The clothes. The toys.”

“Yes,” he admits.

My heart lurches in anger. In traitorous reverence, too.

“And all my belongings from Denver—did you have something to do with them being packed and sent here?” Because they smelled like him.

I thought I’d been sinking into madness. That when I arrived here and all the rooms held his scent, that I’d started to lose my mind, the psychosis only increasing when my boxed belongings arrived from Colorado.

“Yes.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’s been fucking with me this entire time. While I grieved his loss. While I struggled with guilt.

“Why?” I beg. “Why do all that yet not speak to me?”

He opens his mouth to reply but I cut him off.

“And don’t you dare blame my daughter.” I cross my arms over my chest, squeezing against the pain. “I get that you didn’t want her to see you while you recovered, but that didn’t stop you from calling. Or sending a text to let me know you were still alive. I’ve been worried sick, Bishop. I haven’t slept. I’ve barely eaten—”

“I can see that.” His gaze fills with remorse.

“I’ve hated myself for what I did to you. For dragging you into my drama. For almost getting you killed.”

“Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself.” He strides toward me, expression menacing. “That was my fault. Entirely all mine.”

“No.” I shake my head, my body trembling along with it as he stops bare inches in front of me. “I seduced you out of your abstinence.”

“You’d just been assaulted, Abri. You’d watched me kill a man. You were out of your fucking mind.” He grabs my chin, the contact jolting through me. “I’m the one who messed with you. I’m the asshole who lacked the restraint to stop myself from rutting on you like a goddamn fucking animal.”

“You didn’t want to. I—”

“Like hell I didn’t. I’ve never wanted anything more, and I hate myself for taking what should’ve been given in a far better location under better fucking circumstances.” His hand slides to my waist as he pulls me closer. “I didn’t even use protection, but I know you’re well aware of that.”

I stiffen, sensing a pointed meaning behind his words yet not comprehending what it is.

“That’s part of the reason why I’m here.” His breath brushes my lips as he closes his eyes. “I know you’re pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” I shove at his chest. “You know I’m pregnant? Just how closely have you been watching me?”

He winces, that stern face looking back at me in pained apology. “You don’t want to know.”

“Guess again.”

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