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“Would Edison even read it, you think?” Trent asked quietly.
“I don’t think so. He hates Skylar and he doesn’t trust him, so….” Bishop pressed his fist into his thigh to try to calm the shaking. He was fucking angry he had to even deal with this bullshit. He wondered if he’d never come along would Skylar had ever made a move on Edison. Probably not.
“You want me to drop you off over there?”
“No… yeah… no wait, I’m too fucking…” Scared, angry. Bishop cracked his knuckles.
“I got you, B.” Trent got off the interstate at Rosemont Road.
“Where we going?”
“Gonna buy you a brew before I drop you off to handle your business,” Trent said and pulled into an Applebee’s across from the public library.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Edison
Edison shut the lid on his grill then came back inside. He put the pan of ribeyes in the oven to rest, then checked the time over his stove again. It was dark outside; Bishop was usually done long before eight. Instead of waiting to cook, he figured he’d go ahead and have dinner waiting on the table. Assuming Bishop had had a difficult day—especially after encountering Skylar first thing—Edison tried to think of ways he could relax him tonight. Some pretty good ideas were popping into his head when he heard a key turning in the front door.
Edison came back through the open patio doors after he finished placing the strawberry spinach salad on the table. His smile fell instantly at the haunted expression on Bishop’s face. He set his bag down slowly in the living room and pointed towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower really quick, Eddie.”
“Hey,” Edison said, stopping Bishop from walking away. He wiped his fingers on the hand towel over his shoulder and leaned into him.
“I’m a mess, baby. I don’t wanna get you dirty,” Bishop murmured, backing away.
Edison frowned. Something wasn’t right. Bishop liked to dirty him up, so why was he pushing him away? “Dinner is ready. Why don’t you just change your shirt and wash your hands, we’re eating outside on my new patio set tonight.”
Bishop glanced past him and saw where Edison had the overhead lights on, and the fire pit going. It was still warm out from today’s temperature, but the glow from the fire made the yard look romantic. He’d placed a few citronella candles around the patio to ward off mosquitos. But he was most proud of how nicely he’d set the new glass table. Bishop nodded and gave him a smile that never reached his troubled eyes.
“Sure. I’ll do that,” Bishop whispered. He ducked and quickly kissed Edison on the cheek before taking his bag to the bedroom.
Edison took a deep breath and went back to putting the finishing touches on Bishop’s plate. He tried not to worry too much about Bishop’s mood. Everyone had bad days. Things couldn’t always be sunshine and daisies. Work could be hell sometimes and Bishop was a manager like him. There’d been plenty of times when Edison got home and all he wanted to do was find a corner and curl up with a book. Now, he was even more intent on making Bishop feel good tonight.
Edison was trying his best to enjoy his gorgeous backyard, but he was having a hard time when Bishop was in such a somber mood. He was eating his food, but he hadn’t complimented Edison once and he was half done. Edison set his knife down and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“I love my yard, Bishop. I can’t believe how much it looks like your drawing. When do you think Manny will want to come take some pictures?” Edison asked with enthusiasm.
Bishop finally looked up from his plate, catching Edison’s gaze for a second before he dropped his head again. “I don’t know. Soon probably. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.” Edison exhaled slowly then tried a different approach.
“Everyone’s so excited about tomorrow’s community day.” Edison smiled while forking some strawberries and feta cheese crumbles. “This project is really close to Presley. She likes to give back in any way she can.”
Bishop nodded. His jaw was working aggressively as if he was shredding the steak to bits in his mouth.
Edison dropped his hands to his lap, his dinner losing its appeal. “Is um… is something wrong, Bishop?”
“What?” Bishop frowned as if Edison was crazy.
“Is it Mike? Or Trent?” Edison asked. “Or me?”
Bishop’s voice was shallow, and Edison could see his knee bouncing through the clear table. “No, nothing’s wrong with anyone.”
Except you. Edison watched Bishop for a long time before he spoke.
“I had a fucked-up day, Eddie. That’s all.” Bishop pushed his plate away, his steak half-finished and his twice-baked potato was almost untouched. “Shit. I’m sorry. I know I’m messing up your nice meal, baby, I just…”
“Hey.” Edison got up and went to Bishop. He slid his chair back and sat on his lap making Bishop smile for the first time all evening.
