Page 241 of Overcast

A family.

A new life that I can build and nourish.

A future of my own.

Taking one last look at the small gathering below, I take Reagan up on freshening up in the bathroom, reapply some blush and mascara to my face. With a genuine smile in the mirror, I stride to the stairs to rejoin the party before I hear a phone ring.

Pivoting towards the sound of it in my room, I notice my ringtone on the cell Marty bought me.

Scooping it up off the dresser, an unknown number appears, then the ringing stops. About to place it back down, it begins to go off again, and I hit the green button to answer.

“Hello?”

“Tell Em and your new husband to stop looking for me,” the other end growls, composing my brows to fall. It’s not until I open my mouth to ask him who this was that it hits me like a legit flashback.

“Bishop?”

“Yep.” I clutch my phone harder, moving towards the middle of the room to pace the floor.

“They’re worried about you, especially Em. She—”

“I didn’t ask for a report,” he snaps. “Just do what I said.”

“No,” I deadpan. “They’re your family. They care about you.” Silence answers me, forging a sheet of anxiety to blanket over me. “Bishop, where are you? Please...come home. I’m not sure what happened or why you left, but they can help you.”

More radio silence and I pull the phone from my ear to see the backdrop of a field filled with yellow daisies.

He hung up.

I let out of frustrated scoff, squeezing the poor device in my hands because Bishop is a jerk. A stubborn and selfish fool for not letting anyone know where he is.

And they call Mills an idiot.

“I hope you’re not calling a taxi or some shit to leave me already.” I let out a relieved exhale, relaxing my shoulders as I turn to find Marty propped up against the doorframe and taking up most of the space there. “And you better not have another boyfriend, sweetheart. I’m a jealous husband.”

“Really? I never noticed.” Pushing off the wall, he takes his time advancing on me, mindful to take it easy. “Are you sore?”

“A little,” he replies. “But that doesn’t mean I’m calling it a night with you, sweetheart.”

I lift my lips. “I would hope not. I have high expectations with all the things you’ve whispered in my ear tonight.”

Marty smiles, true and breathtaking. “And I mean it.” His eyes flick to the cell phone in my hands. “Who were you talking to?”

I grip the item harder in my palm again, nervous that I might upset him and on our special day. Marty can put up a front easy, but I’m not completely blind to see that Emmy’s distress of Bishop’s sudden disappearance is starting to wash over him.

“Bishop.”

“Bishop?” he repeats.

I nod. “Yes. He called me on an unknown number and—”

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters, averting his gaze from me. “He would do this sort of shit on my wedding day.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it—” Marty reaches out and gently tugs me into his space.

“He’s calling because he knows we’re all here.” He laces his fingers with mine. “And he’s alive, so there’s that.”

“Marty,” I chide. “You guys are so worried about—”

---