by Hazel Grace
“He’s bull-headed,” I reply. “He’s mad at me. We…had a fight.”
“I noticed.”
Of course, he had; he’s Ledger.
How he sees, hears, and knows all is beyond me.
However, I think he picks everyone’s brain that might know the best details of a situation to get the whole picture. Like a father would do to his flock of children.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him and me. “He’ll have to come around.”
“And he will.” Ledger squeezes my hand. “He is right now.”
My neck snaps to the group around the table, and my heart skips in surprise at his words.
It’s more like hope.
Hope that he came and changed his mind.
Not because I wanted him to see me with Alexander but because I was selfish and needed to see him for myself.
Kyson tells me he’s been his typical self. Working out, killing, smoking, and hanging out with his family. That he’s more pissed off than usual but he didn’t make a thing about it.
Ledger’s soft green eyes meet mine when I look back at him. “Remember what I said.”
I bob my head. I’d listen to anything he said short of him telling me that Heath Ledger wasn’t the best Joker of all time.
“Hey, Bish!” I hear Mills call out, and I can’t help my reaction. My eyes flood with tears and Ledger gives me a small grin, still holding onto my hand and becoming my anchor.
I hear Alexander’s chair slide back from my left but I don’t dare look now. Not until I have my emotions under control. I don’t want to talk to him about what’s wrong.
Because everything is right now.
“Think of how Kyson always forgets not to put mayo on sandwiches,” Ledger emits. “Or when Marty steals your phone charger all the time and you have to keep buying a new one. And do I even need to mention the things Blue does to you?”
A broken chuckle escapes my lips as my adopted father-parent tries to fill my head with things that normally piss me off to keep my tears at bay.
I love him for it.
And it works.
I’m able to shove back waterworks that were about to crash to my cheeks and straighten my spine. Ready to stand to greet the man whom I haven’t laid eyes on in forever when a deep voice halts me altogether.
“You don’t have to get up,” he rumbles over my head. I feel him ease closer without needing to see him. His pleasurable scent of leather and nutmeg with the slight and regular mix of weed envelopes me.
His full lips press a kiss to my cheek, the rough edges of his short beard abrading over my skin, and I melt in my chair.
Yep, melt.
His touch still gets me to fall victim to him and everything that is Kace Bishop.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers as he pulls back. My body immediately rejects him stepping away from me, but he does.
Rounding the table, he stops to say something to Stormi, and Marty’s head shoots up to where Bishop answers him back with a feeble smack to the back of his skull. His light blue tee and dark jeans mold to his body and I watch with too much unnecessary interest.
He settles in next to Mills, who hands him a glass of dark liquid, and he immediately takes a hefty sip. A light smirk illuminates off his features at what my best friend says and I blink a few times to make sure that I hadn’t just imagined the last two minutes.
He seems…okay.
Not that I wouldn’t want him to be.
I was just expecting him to be livid pissed at me and still hold a grudge. I mean, he had for me wanting him to open up to me for three-plus years. He did the exact same thing by evading me, but now I couldn’t take back what happened.
I’m pregnant and he’s fine.
Two things I should want.
Two things that I have to want.
Alexander heads most of the conversation with my friends during appetizers. At the same time, Ledger seems very interested in knowing more about him, but I can’t eat a thing.
The boys are courteous—sweetly so because they know how much this means to me—and Blue cracks her inappropriate jokes which don’t phase me anymore. Poor Alexander will have to get used to it at some point or another.
He does wonderfully and answers every damning question from Marty, asking if he carries any weapons in the house and if he works exceptionally late hours. That he’ll be stopping by with his kid so they can have what he called “those playdate things” and to hang out with me for pizza night.
Kyson is silent for most of the time, which isn’t too out of the ordinary, but I can tell he’s conflicted. Mills is trying to crack stupid puns, but I catch his eyes a few times, and it’s then that I realize he’s trying to hide it too.
They don’t like him.
And I can’t make them.
If they hate him, I can only hope that within time it’ll change when they see how well he treats me. In their vision, no one will ever be good enough.
I can say the same for them even though Marty has Stormi, and I enjoy her company. She’s a good fit for him.
After dinner, no one wants dessert but more drinks. Stormi and I sip on virgin margaritas while the boys pick at the leftover appetizers they didn’t finish off from earlier.
I dodge Bishop through most of the meal and keep my eyes elsewhere. Paying particular attention to him isn’t going to help the situation, nor the guilty pull that latches me to his gravity.
When the restaurant begins to clear out and quiet down, so does my squad. Ledger, Marty, and Stormi leave first while Mills asks Alexander stupid questions about being a CEO of his company and if he gets to destroy his competition with random methods I don’t pay attention to.
I don’t notice Bishop until he nears Kyson and I, causing me to tense in anticipation of how this is going to go.
I’m not sure how to act or what to say.
I don’t want to make the taut air between us worse, but if anything, I usually know how to read Bishop.
“Ready to take off?” Kyson asks Bishop, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to tuck me into his body. Then he leans in to whisper for all of us to hear, “Do we get to become knights or some shit to protect the princess?”
I roll my eyes but squeeze him harder. “Will you guys please shut the fuck up about the royalty thing? I’m not becoming a princess. But if I do, we’re going to go live on an island. I’ll make sure to stock up on the sunscreen since you burn easy.”
“You’re an asshole,” he quips, pressing a kiss into my hair. “I think I’ve taken all the redheaded jokes I can for this year.”
“Thank you for coming tonight, I—“ Kyson silences me by crushing tighter into his hard body.
“Anything for you, Ems. You know that. Always know that. No matter what happens.” He releases me and tips my chin to look up at him.
He gives me an honest smile then winks before taking off and leaving me with his best friend, my ex-husband.
Well, not ex legally yet.
I flick my nervous attention to him, keeping my chin raised to allude that I’m not.
Bishop takes a step towards me, allowing his blues to flick down the length of my body.
I always feel small under them, like they could suck me right into them for me never to be seen again. I constantly battled between loving and hating it.
However, I’ve never felt so beautiful in them too.
“You been feeling okay?” he asks me, shoving both of his hands into his jean pockets.
“Yeah.” I try to think of something else to say but fall short. I wasn’t ready for him to be here and didn’t think of conversation points if he did show up. “You?”
“Feeling okay?” He perks a brow before saying, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“How’s Scarlett and Hardy?”
“Good.”
“Good.” Okay, this is just plain stupid. “I want to apologize for what happened.” Bishop continues to just stare at me as I struggle to maintain a steady tone. “I…spru
ng this on you and peaced out. I honestly don’t—I’m not sure how or what we do moving forward.”
He doesn’t say a word, causing my heart to quicken and thud rapid beats into my chest. Under all of his facial hair and broody facade, I see a man who’s recovering.
I know because it’s what I look like in the mirror.
We promised forever. We both messed up everything. We sucked at communicating and landed here.
“I’m not saying this to hash shit up,” I add. “I just wanted you to know.”
“I know.”
“Promise? We’ve been through a lot together. I still care about you, Bish.”
“All I want you to do, Ems, is have healthy babies,” he recites with no malice in his tone. “And don’t snort coke.”
A fractured scoff traipses off my lips and I feel those damn tears rising to my eyes again. “I won’t, don’t worry.”
“And be happy.” He loses more space between us and my body warms to the comfort that is him. To everyone else and sometimes even me, he’s a douchebag, but he was my douchebag at one point. “No matter who you end up with.”
My brain can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to him to where he’s come to terms with this.
Bishop holds grudges and fear.
The man I’m looking at right now, who I wanted to just love me, evolved.
“I want the same,” I force out, clenching my jaw tightly to keep it from shaking. “For you. I never got to tell—”
“You don’t need to,” he replies quickly before flicking his gaze to something over my head. “Just know it’ll never change for me.”
But you don’t know what I was going to say.
“Are you ready, Emmy?” Alexander chants, coming to my side and wrapping an arm around my waist.
I don’t break my gaze from Bishop, but his falls to hand clutching my waist.
It’s then that his face transforms into the norm—pissed, irritated, and not wanting to be bothered with the man in front of him.
The man currently residing in my life.
“Yeah,” I tell him.
Then I take a chance, one that might go hidden because I do it with all the guys in B723. It wouldn’t come across as unnormal to anyone but Bishop.
I step forward and wrap my arms around Bishop’s torso, crushing him to my frame.
My cheek lies on his warm chest and I release a held exhale, not expecting anything in return from him.
However, Bishop returns the gesture, the pads of his fingers digging lightly into my back. His chin rests on top of my head as he inhales my hair, enveloping me into a cocoon of us.
“Thank you for coming,” I mutter, then release him before it does get weird.
Before I can't.
Alexander holds out his hand to say goodnight, but Bishop refuses to take it. He can’t after that night he found him at my place. He won’t because he’s not that forgiving to anyone that’s not within our realm of clique.
Instead, he salutes him with his fingers across his forehead, giving me one final glance before taking off.
“Was it something I said to him?” Alexander asks as we watch him stride out.
I shake my head. “He is the hardest guy to get to like you. It took me six years.”
“Well, that’s….comforting.”
Lacing his fingers with mine, we walk out together as two people who are about to parents.
It’s the last time it’s ever like this for us—calm, content, and clear.
“Do you know what this fucking means?” Marty sneers in my face, twisting the fabric of my t-shirt harder. His body tremors ever so slightly that only I can feel it because I’m his human beating bag if he should so need it.
“I know,” I reply, watching Marty’s eyes overcast in pure panic.
“Marty.” Mills shows up next to both of us, his tone mild. “You’re gonna need to go in with—“
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, his head whirling in his direction. “She deserves better than me. I’m not going to do anything but fuck this kid up.”
I roll my eyes—yeah, I know—but I can’t help it.
Marty has been on this kick about how he’s going to be a shit dad because he killed his sister’s father and all this other happy horseshit. He’ll do fine, I don’t know how many more times we need to tell him that but he hasn’t listened. I’m about to pummel his ass to sink the message in.
“You want your wife to have this baby alone so you can have a mini panic attack out here?” I’m pushing him to where this could go one of two ways; he can grow a pair of balls and go back into that hospital room where they are prepping Stormi to have their first child, or he’s gonna beat my ass.
Marty’s expression turns deadly. “Motherfucker, I will—“
“Marty.” The man in question stops everything he was about to say, and his face lightens when he registers the voice.
Mine tenses.
It’s Emmy.
I step to the side, allowing Marty the initial view of her because he needs it more than anyone else.
Immediately, he advances, needing the one woman who makes everything better. One we’ve all relied on in some way or another.
I slowly pivot to find Emmy hugging Marty and gently rubbing his back in comfort. She’s speaking lowly, laser-focused on him and him only because she knows as well as anyone else that he needs all her words of encouragement and bravery.
Emmy tucks her arm under Marty’s and guides him down the busy hallway full of nurses and doctors. Kyson and Mills follow a bit behind, leaving me to level out my racing pulse and jittery heartbeat.
It’s been another month that’s gone by that I’ve purposely stayed away and focused on my own family that I’m reconnecting with.
Four weeks where Emmy’s stomach has gotten bigger on Instagram, and I’ve been fumbling in my own head.
I’m broken and numb.
There’s no other way to sugarcoat how my heart convulses and my body feels like it’s not really here, living and operating.
Every time I check her shit, I tell myself it’s the last. But the next time is to make sure she’s happy. To watch her from afar to make sure that I don’t have to put Alexander on life support just so I can bring him back to life and practically kill him again.
The clicking of heels draws my chin upward, locating Emmy in a baby blue dress and nude stilettos. The sway of her hips, her long curls of whitish-blonde hair that bounces off her shoulders, and the confidence that radiates of Emmy Lou Rhodes still make her the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“First panic attack at the hospital down,” she jeers with a small smile developing along her face as my heart slows to a critical pace. “How many did he have in the car?”
“Two, according to Reagan.”
Her honey-browns light up. She seems fine.
I want her to be fine. I just also want her to be with me.
“Where is she?”
I nod towards the hallway she just came from. “In the room with Stormi.”
“Do you know what they’re having?” She stops within a foot of me and I wish she wouldn’t.
It’s too close.
Just like she was too close at that stupid ass dinner Kyson guilt tripped me into going to.
It took everything in me not to drag her out of that restaurant and break Alexander’s hand for touching her.
“A girl.”
“No shit.” She lets out a little scoff. “He purposely kept it from me like an asshole. And I wasn’t going to put Stormi in the middle of that debacle. Lord knows I would’ve won.”
Yeah, I know.
Marty felt like Emmy would lecture him to death about future boyfriends and how he couldn’t go offing them all, so he kept it to himself to buy him a few months of peace.
“It’ll be perfect,” Emmy proceeds with a widening smile, her hand falling mindlessly onto the top of her belly. It makes my own writhe in discomfort.
I need to go now.
I can’t breathe while looking at her. It’s too painful. I’ve always thought I was a decently strong man who could handle shit, but this is downright torture.
“He needs to learn to be able to be soft when the time allows,” Emmy carries on. “Then he can be his normal asshole self the rest of the time. I was daddy’s little girl growing up. There is nothing like a father-daughter relationship.”
My body lingers back, demanding some personal space. “It was good to see you, Ems. I’m going to go—“
“Bish.” Her arm reaches out for me, and without even touching me, I flinch.
She notices.
I can’t handle any contact from her right now. I’m not looking to go backward when I’ve already served this much time.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her once excited features vanished and replaced with remorseful ones. “Please don’t ignore me. I know it’s been—”
“I’m not, I—“
“You are,” she quickly counters. “I know this isn’t…” She sighs. “Listen, I told you before, we’re family. I know you didn’t choose me, but I care about you. I would never in a million—“
“I’m going to go smoke,” I convey, jerking my head to the elevators behind me. It’s the only excuse I can come up with for her to let me go and shut up. “I’ll be back.”
She seems to relax and nods, following me with those magnificent browns. “Okay, I’ll be here.”
Awesome.
Because I lied.
I don’t go back.
I go home.
Stormi gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with dark curls and chunky little cheeks. They named her Briar Grey and she’s everything a set of parents could ask for.
Happiness radiated off all of us as a group but, again, Bishop wasn’t there to celebrate and Marty noticed.
It took a small deal to calm him down, but I covered and said he wasn’t feeling too well.
I’ve been spending as much time with Marty and Stormi, taking shifts to make sure they get some sleep and help do minor things around the house.
