Chapter 37
Eva had me watching some rom-com bullshit.
But I was two cups of bourbon in, so at this point the shit was watching me.
Her legs were thrown over my lap as I absentmindedly rubbed up and down them softly.
Not because I was feeling particularly intimate, I just knew she needed me.
Needed to feel her husband's touch on her skin with all the tension growing between us.
I was just hoping that she wouldn't want some dick later 'cause Monroe had drained me dry.
And with Gianna being gone…
I just…
I was struggling to fulfill that part of my marriage still.
Every day I regretted meeting her. I should've stayed my ass away when I saw her that day in the bar. I knew better. The second our eyes locked, something in me said leave that woman alone. Instead, I walked right over there like a fucking idiot.
I knew in my soul that I was playing with fire; but like a moth to a flame, I went closer anyway. She ruined my fucking life and my libido. Everywhere I looked, I saw Gianna. Heard her laugh and that smart mouth. Saw those big brown eyes and that damn smile.
Witchcraft…yeah…that's what it had to be. That thick, pretty ass bitch was a witch.
Or a succubus. Something. Because this shit wasn't normal
Fuck!
I really fucking missed her. And all the liquor, distractions and sloppy head from Monroe wasn't enough to knock the edge off. I wanted her. I only wanted her. I've never wanted something and not been able to get it. This shit wasn't logical.
I didn't know if this was love or lust anymore because the two had blurred together so much, I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. All I knew was she was gone. And every day she was gone felt wrong. Like something had been ripped out of me.
The fucked up part was that I did love my wife, regardless of what my actions were. Which only made me feel more fucked up because if I loved her...why wasn't it enough?
Why couldn't I let Gianna go?
Why couldn't I stop thinking about her?
Why couldn't I just be happy with the life I already had?
I felt guilty as hell that I couldn't give her what she needed. I chose her and I had to do what was necessary to make this shit right.
I rubbed my hand over my face and took another sip of bourbon. "You think we need to go to therapy, Eva?" I asked suddenly.
Her head whipped towards me sharply. "What?"
Letting out a deep breath I studied her face. "Therapy. You think we need it? Think it would be helpful?"
Eva paused, mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed. "Do you think we need it?" she asked finally.
Running my hand down my beard I nodded once. "Yeah."
Eva leaned back on the couch her eyes going back to the TV. "Why?" she asked quietly.
"So we can get back right, babe."
She smirked and shook her head. "Get back right?" she echoed. "Right," she dragged out rolling her eyes.
"Look—I'm trying, Eva." I leaned towards her slightly.
She slid her legs from my lap, tucking them under her before turning her had back to me. "Because you feel guilty?" she countered, eyes sharpening but voice still steady. "Or obligated…which is far worse."
"Baby, that's not true," I insisted calmly. "I love you. I do."
Eva let out a short, bitter laugh. "I hate when you lie to me."
I didn't respond right away. "You don't think I love you?" I asked after a few tense seconds.
She shook her head again. "I don't know anymore, Bishop," she admitted. "I think you love the stability of having a wife and kids while you go out there living your double life. I think if I hadn't of gotten pregnant with the twins you probably wouldn't have married me at all."
That statement came out of left field and stunned me for a minute. She's never said no shit like that out loud. "So… you telling me this whole time, you think I've been with you out of obligation?" I asked carefully.
"…Maybe." She shrugged. "Or strategy." Her eyes flicked back to the TV. "A wife can't be forced to testify against her own husband in the court of law."
I froze then. Now she was on some other shit. Testify? The fuck? My eyes hardened and I sat up putting my drink down. "What are you insinuating, Eva?" I asked slowly, jaw flexing.
She exhaled sharply. "Nothing, Bishop. Nothing at all. If you want to try therapy—fine."
She tossed the pillow on her lap on the couch and stood.
"Eva—" I looked up at her.
“I’m tired,” she murmured avoiding my eyes. "Goodnight."
That didn't go the way I planned. But instead of fighting it and turning it into a big argument that would wake the twins, I just nodded. “Aight. Night.”
Eva lingered for a second like she wanted me to stop her. Say more. Fix it. But I ain’t have shit else to say after that. She turned and headed upstairs leaving me alone. I leaned forward rubbing both hands over my face tiredly.
This shit was a mess.
My marriage.
My mind.
My life.
Everything felt fucked up now.
I reached for my drink again when I heard Eva’s phone ringing upstairs.
A few seconds passed.
Then her footsteps crossed overhead.
Silence.
Another minute later she came back downstairs slowly, phone still in her hand, expression twisted in confusion.
“You okay?” I asked looking up at her.
Eva frowned at the screen. “Somebody keeps calling me private.”
My brows furrowed slightly. “Telemarketer probably.”
“At eleven o’clock at night?” she questioned.
I shrugged taking another sip. “People be weird.”
She stared at the phone another second before shaking her head Then it rang again. “See—” she held it up for me to see. “Another private number.”
I watched her expression shift from annoyance and confusion to unease. Standing, I walked over. “I got it.” Taking the phone from her hand, I answered. “Hello?”
Silence.
Then—
Slow breathing.
My brows furrowed. “Who the fuck is this?” I asked sharper.
Nothing. Just steady breathing.
Eva’s eyes stayed locked on me.
“Whoever the fuck this is—”
CLICK.
The line disconnected.
I pulled the phone away from my ear slowly, staring down at the screen before handing it back to Eva.
“Did they say anything?” she asked cautiously.
“Probably somebody trolling,” I muttered even though the call wasn't sitting right with me either. That breathing shit was creepy. "Don't worry about it, aight. Block any private calls. If it happens again, we're changing your number."
She shook her head. "No. I don't want to change my number, " she huffed. "I've had this number for ten years."
I wasn’t even beat for a debate. "You said you were tired right?" I asked flatly.
Eva blinked, staring at me in disbelief before rolling her eyes and heading upstairs without another word.
I watched her walk up the stairs; I didn't move right away. Once I heard the door click, I went back to the couch to sit. My phone was on the table next to my drink. Picking it up, I went to my photos—scrolled to the hidden folder I had.
Pictures of Gianna.
Candid shots of our time together. Pictures I snuck and took while she wasn't looking.
Her walking.
Her sitting on the bed, head bent, hair covering her face as she laced her heels after one of our nights together.
One I even got of her smiling. I could hear that laugh of hers caressing over my brain and arousing every nerve in my body.
And the latest one…her face streaked with worry and anxiousness as she came out of her apartment.
I had gotten too close that time. Scared her.
I didn't mean to do that. I would never hurt her. I just…wanted to see her.
Talk to her.
Touch her.
Taste her.
Feel her. One last time.
I stared at the picture, searing her face in my brain before clicking out of it. Picking back up my drink, I leaned back, sipping quietly. That rom-com bullshit still playing and Gianna's presence still sitting on me.
Heavy… and always present.