Page 90 of Deceit

I snort. “Trust me, you didn’t want to.”

“You were a bitch, Ems?” His voice is incredulous but fake because I’ve told him some stories before about my squad days. Like how I dropped Brittany Lilly on her ass when I was supposed to spot her for running her mouth. Then I delivered Stacy Kumar a fat lip for messing with some of the freshmen girls.

“I wasn’t, but I was surrounded by them twenty-four seven. Private school and all that.”

“Couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Not if you were the only daughter and your mom wanted to marry you off to the first eligible ass clown with a Fortune 500 company.”

“Your mom wanted to put you in an arranged marriage?”

“If you count the one time she tried to lock me in a room with Baron McAllister to talk.”

Bishop’s face screws up. “Who?”

“Baron McAllister. Shit, by this time, I could be onTheReal Housewives of Beverly Hillsor some crap if I would’ve ended up with him.”

“I heard what you said.” His tone dips to a dangerous level. “I meant, who the fuck is he?”

I glance around my mother’s party because none of my alleged friends are here.

This is for her, always is and was.

She invited all her botox bunnies with fake tits and blonde hair for my Sweet Sixteen while they got plastered on martinis. By six ‘o clock, while my girlfriends and I were playing truth or dare, two young men showed up. The adults went into a locked room. Wild shouts and “take it off” were coming from underneath the gape of the door.

My mom or her friends hired strippers for themselves formyunderaged party.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a list of men she wanted me to meet tonight.

“He should be around here somewhere,” I surmise as Bishop’s head snaps to the side, searching for a faceless man. “He’s married, Bish.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he snarls. “Tell me she sealed you up in a room with him to study, and I won’t kill him.”

“She locked us in a room to study,” I strum. His blues trail back to me, unamused by how insincere I sound because they constrict. “My daddy saved the day, don’t worry.”

Bishop scans the place again, and I squeeze his hand to reclaim his eyes on me. I receive them immediately, and they soften a little as he takes me in.

“Are you jealous, Bish?” I give him a tiny grin, telling him he has nothing to worry about with the boy who couldn’t make a pass at me over two decades ago if he tried.

“Were you jealous when you beat Camilla’s ass?”

“Yes.” There is no way of getting around that question. “And I’d do it again. I just regret not breaking one of her legs.”

Bishop tugs me closer, our bodies compressing so tightly that nothing can get between us now. “You know she’s nothing, right? Nothing is going on or ever will go on between us again.”

I shrug, not knowing a thing but what Kyson told me. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We are unconventional and—“

“Normal is boring, Ems. We weren’t born for ordinary. And you weren’t meant to be kept by an asshole like me.”

I don’t say a word because I’m afraid of what he might say next. My heart begins to seize in anticipation that he’s going to sever said organ in two.

I don’t want to get divorced.

I don’t want him to leave me or let me go.

Apparently, I like being tortured with this never-ending feeling of hopelessness and trepidation that Bishop will never be emotionally available to me.

Bishop leans down, lips descending near my ear when he whispers, “Whatever you’re thinking, wife, don’t. I’m a selfish prick.” His lips brush against my forehead tenderly. “Happy Birthday.”

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