The way he looked at me.
Melo calling me GG. Those big dimples and brown eyes
Sunday breakfasts.
Late nights on the balcony.
The warmth of sleeping beside him.
I couldn't to this…
A sob crawled up my throat. I rolled onto my side quickly grabbing my pillow and holding it against my chest tightly wishing it was him.
I missed him so bad.
Chapter 50
Bishop always thought he could hide things from me.
But I let him believe it.
I loved my husbanddesperately. That man had given me a beautiful life. Beautiful children. Security. Stability. The kind of devotion I once thought only existed in movies and little girl fantasies.
So sometimes…it was easier to pretend we were perfect. Easier than facing the reality of what my marriage really was.
But the moment Chef Remy walked over at Simmer & Soul with that woman tucked against his side…every instinct inside me sharpened. Bishop's entire face changed. Most people would've missed it. I didn't.
The slight lift in his posture.
The way his eyes tracked her.
The sharp drawing of his breath.
I had seen that look before. Years ago. Back in those prison halls when seeing me was the highlight of his day. And suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
He knew her.
How? I wasn't sure yet. But he knew her.
Gianna.
That was her name.
And she was…stunning. Not just beautiful.Dangerouslybeautiful. A body sculpted from every male fantasy imaginable. Curves that demanded attention without even trying. Soft, golden-brown skin glowing beneath those restaurant lights. Big doe eyes that made her look innocent even while standing there sexy as sin. Lips full and soft.
She looked sweet too. Like the kind of woman a man wanted to protect and love openly. And she wasclearlyloved. Her man named a whole dessert after her. I watched the way he touched her and knew she was adored.
The question was—was my husband one of the men adoring her too?
But I said nothing.
Because Bishop was still adjusting to life outside prison whether he realized it or not. Only five years free after spending the majority of his young adulthood institutionalized. He missed experiences. Freedom. Temptation. Beautiful women.
I understood those desires more than most wives did. Maybe it was the age difference as well that made me extend so much grace. So, I let him indulge because no matter what he always came home to me.
I had his last name.
His children.
