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.
