Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-three
Tierney
“Tier! Have you seen the breast milk I thawed for Enni?” Lila burst into the kitchen in one of her ballroom dresses, readjusting her diamond earring. “I put it in a jug inside the fridge to defro—”
With the spoon halfway into my mouth, I choked and spat out my Reese’s Puffs, gagging into my cereal bowl. “Lila! Oh my God!”
“What?” Her mouth fell open, and she slanted her head, taking in the scene of me, innocently enjoying my cereal at her kitchen island. Well, I had been enjoying. I knew that milk tasted funny.
“This is hysterical!” She clutched her stomach, giggling like a schoolgirl. “How did you not see the colostrum?”
“I thought it was just full-fat milk crust! I don’t drink the reduced stuff because it upsets my stomach.”
“It was in a glass jug.”
“I thought it was one of those fancy glass bottles the milkman brings.” My tongue actually burned with the realization I’d drunk my sister-in-law’s breast milk.
“The milkman?” She looked alarmed. “What year are you living in?!”
I stood up and wobbled to the sink, flipping the faucet on and sticking my tongue under the stream of water. “Jesus Christ, I’m never eating anything from your fridge again. No one can know about this, Lila.”
“No one can know about what?” My brother breezed into the kitchen, snatching my sister-in-law’s waist from behind, planting a kiss on her head. He’d come straight from work and was going to take her to a charity ball.
Tiernan hated dancing. Hated people even more. But Lila loved dancing, and Tiernan loved Lila.
I was still a little shell-shocked to see my hell-raising twin all domesticated. It was bizarre. Like watching a hungry panther sniffing a catnip toy on its back, pawing it with its back legs.
“Tierney had Enni’s breast milk with her cereal.” Lila turned to lock her arms around Tiernan’s neck, giving him a slow kiss. “And now she’s pretending it doesn’t taste good.” She pushed her lower lip out in a pout.
“Don’t listen to her, Gealach,” he crooned, catching her lips in another kiss. He looked genuinely distressed by the prospect that Lila’s feelings were even mildly injured. “Your breast milk is delicious.”
Seriously, why did Tristan Hale miss? I thought he was supposed to be a good shot.
Jokes aside, I pondered that question every day.
Something was amiss. Hale had shot me at point-blank range, hiding in the corridor in that Prague apartment.
Even a terrible shot wouldn’t have missed.
Yet he did. It didn’t make any sense, and it bothered me.
I didn’t believe in flukes, and I knew for sure Lady Luck wasn’t with me.
“Enni doesn’t have any complaints,” Lila said. She was the only one who called my nephew that. Everyone else called him Nero.
“That’s because he recognizes greatness when he sees it.”
It had been two weeks since Achilles dropped me off at my brother’s place after bringing me back to life in that cabin. I was still unsettled by the fact he did that for me but convinced myself it meant nothing. Fixing what he broke was the least he could do.
Now? Now I was feeling a different kind of suffocation.
I was grateful for everything Tiernan and Lila had done for me.
And at the same time, it was a lot.
All of it.
Sharing a roof with a loved-up couple whose love language was screwing on every surface in the house while their baby was napping (found that out the hard way).
The way Lila was a busybody with good intentions, always on my ass about physical therapy, swimming as a form of occupational therapy, and eating clean.
The way my brother barked at soldiers whose gaze lingered on me for a second too long.
I didn’t like being treated like a child.
On top of that, Lila insisted I shouldn’t worry myself about Tyrone or Vello, so neither of them agreed to give me any information about the patriarchs.
They didn’t mean to make me feel like a small child, but I felt like one all the same.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I groused, throwing the fridge open and plucking a Diet Coke from it.
Lila wrinkled her nose in disapproval as I cracked the can open and chugged it. “Tierney…”
“I’m not in the mood to be healthy. It’s either this or meth. Your pick.”
Tiernan and Lila exchanged glances.
Please. Just go so I can go back to staring at the ceiling, wondering how I went from New York’s wildest socialite to this.
“Do you want some company?” Lila suggested gently. “We can just chill, maybe watch some Netflix and do a puzzle—”
The doorbell rang, and the kitchen quieted.
Their eyes turned to me. We knew who it was.
Achilles came here every evening at five, sharp.
Every day, I turned him away. Actually, Lila, Tiernan, or Imma did.
I wasn’t in the mood to be seen by him. My hair was in a weird growing phase—there was still a bald patch in the back, where they’d operated—and the rest was growing unevenly.
Plus, most days I rocked an unflattering two-piece pajama set and a grouchy frown.
The doorbell rang a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth.
A scowl knitted Tiernan’s brow. “Should I tell him to fuck off?”
I nodded.
He left the kitchen, and I heard him telling Achilles I wasn’t ready to see him yet.
From what I’d gathered, Tiernan and Achilles were on good terms. Achilles did save me when I was shot, brought me back to the States, then spent those three weeks pulling me out of my dark fog.
That didn’t mean they were back to being friends.
As long as I didn’t forgive Achilles, neither would Tiernan.
“She’s not ready to see you.”
“No, she doesn’t have the balls to face me,” Achilles drawled mockingly. “She knows she can’t resist me for long, and it’s easier when she doesn’t have to see me.”
“Love your mental gymnastics,” Tiernan chuckled venomously. “Who knew your ass could be so flexible?”
“Fuck you.”
“Alluring proposition, but I prefer your sister.”
“What a coincidence, so do I. Now let me fucking see her.”
“No.”
“Tiernan,” Achilles warned.
“Achilles,” Tiernan hissed back. “Take it from someone who went through hell and back to win his wife’s trust—you can’t rush that shit. When she’s ready, she’ll let you know.”
After Achilles slinked away, Lila and Tiernan made their exit.
Imma was with Nero upstairs. I heard my nephew’s happy gurgles as I paced my way from the kitchen to the backyard.
It was a beautiful rose garden. It was also boring as shit.
I was feeling antsy. I hadn’t had a drink in months.
I hadn’t met any friends, either, other than Frankie, who insisted on coming up from DC every week to check in on me.
I needed human interaction that wasn’t fit for a five-year-old.
Drumming my fingers on the outdoor table, I grabbed my phone and opened my text box with Achilles. He was the only person who’d defy Tiernan and actually indulge me. Maybe it was time I faced him.
Tierney: I want booze and a pack of cigarettes.
No niceties. Screw him. He had me bent over his private jet’s bathroom and came in my hair.
The message was immediately accompanied by two blue checkmarks.
Achilles: I’m sure the Callaghan household offers plenty of both.
I thought he’d fall to his knees and thank me for texting him, but I must have forgotten who Achilles was at his core. A cruel, callous man whose fondness for me was nothing but a nuisance to him.
Tierney: They locked everything up.
Achilles: Sounds like a you problem.
Tierney: No, it’s a YOU problem, because if you want my forgiveness, you can start with getting me wine and cigarettes. Leave them at my door.
Achilles: I’m not your servant. If you want me to bring you a drink, you’re having one with me.
Tierney: You don’t even drink wine.
Achilles: I’d drink poison for the pleasure of your company, and you damn well know that.
Tierney: Fine. One drink.
Achilles: Give me ten minutes.
My lips quirked up. He was still in the area. He probably waited to see if I’d change my mind. Did he do that every day?
A short time later, the doorbell rang. I swaggered to answer it, taking my sweet time, and opened it with a face full of makeup and an emerald-green minidress.
Achilles stood on the other side, and he was right, because the minute our gazes clashed, my stomach flipped and the unmistakable rush of butterflies swarmed inside it.
It wasn’t a nice, fuzzy feeling but an uncomfortable reminder that the man in front of me had seen me at my very worst, several times, and still chose to stick around.
He looked like he wanted to strangle me for keeping him waiting all this time.
I flashed him a fake smile—the only kind I was capable of these days. “Miss me?”
“Do you enjoy driving me insane?”
“I’m surprised you’d even ask. Of course I do.”
His eyes narrowed. “At least you’re smiling.”
“I’m doing better,” I said quietly, suddenly a little embarrassed by the memory of him tending to a corpse version of me.
Changing my sheets when I’d soiled them when I was too unresponsive to drag myself to the bathroom.
Washing my hair. Shoving my limbs into pants and shirts.
Feeding me with a freaking spoon when I had lost all willingness to keep myself alive. “So…thank you.”
“Thank you?” he spat out the words in disgust.
“What’s wrong with thank you?”
“If you don’t hug me right the fuck now, I’m going to break both your brother’s legs.”
I frowned. “What does my brother have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I just wouldn’t lay a finger on you, and he shares most of your DNA.”
I stepped into his open arms, a tremor rolling through me. He was warm, hard as stone, and smelled of something spicy and clean.