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"Like you’re not jealous?"
"I might have been if you hadn’t just told me that I’m the best you’ve ever had." I straightened my shoulders as we approached the turn that’d take us onto our block. Deciding to bite the bullet, to get this off my chest once and for all, I stated, "Okay, I need to tell you that I lied to you. It happened once, and I’ve regretted it ever since."
She stilled at my admission. "What did you lie to me about?"
"St. Stephen’s Day. After the party at the compound."
"You mean during that conversation where I told you not to lie to me?"
"Yeah."
"And you lied to me anyway?"
"Yeah."
"You’re right. I don’t want to fuck you now." She blew out a breath. "What did you lie about? How many Sparrows infiltrated the Five Points?"
That she remembered that conversation at all told me I was fucked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was…" I sighed. It seemed so dumb now. "We were new," I tried to reason. "So fucking new, and you’re so goddamn fast to write these articles and shit."
Her voice was dangerously calm and it set me on edge as she mused, "You thought I’d drop that information into one of my exposés?"
"I wasn’t sure. You’d just helped Mary Catherine run away, for God’s sake. You were a loose cannon. I wanted to claw back some control."
"You didn’t trust me."
"I didn’t wholly trust you," I corrected, somewhat relieved that I’d decided to come clean in the car. At least she couldn’t run off. She was stilted enough that I thought she might do exactly that.
Then, because I realized my wife was crazy enough to do the unthinkable, I cast a glance at her and saw her hands were fisted on her lap and not on the handle so she could hurl herself out of the moving vehicle.
"Little one—"
"No, you don't have the right to call me that now."
My temper surged to life, but I sucked it up and blew it out.
She was correct.
I didn't get to use her pet name against her when I'd fucked up.
It didn’t stop my mood from souring as, with every minute that passed as we journeyed closer to home, the quietness seemed to thicken between us.
I was used to her asking questions, peppering the silence with conversations that varied from wonder at Aoife's recent concoction in the kitchen to aggravation when a source let her down in her work against the Sparrows.
She might throw in how she thought the mayor was a jerk or that the country was going to hell in a handbasket because most people weren’t embracing pure matcha tea like they did matcha lattes.
Simple shit.
Complicated shit.
Crazy shit.
Savannahshit.
