When Connor and I sit at the island, Bronx spoons the spaghetti and tomato sauce into bowls.
“When was the last time you spoke to your father?” The question sounds casual, but Bronx is watching Connor too closely for it to be small talk.
“A while ago,” he replies. “Must be over a week ago.”
“Does he talk about his business when he calls?”
Connor winds his fork into the spaghetti. “He would if I were in Dublin. Being a seven-hour flight away kind of kills the need for help. Not that I’m his go-to. That’s little Miss Revolver here. She’s his golden child.”
I roll my eyes at that and study the serious look in Bronx’s eyes. He looks different in this light, or maybe it’s when he’s not buried between my thighs.
“Why? Is something wrong?” I ask.
Bronx gives a half-hearted shrug. “Just wondering how he’s holding upwithout his kids.”
He never asks about my da, so it was a loaded question.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Connor adds.
I wait until Bronx sits beside me before I turn to him. “What’s really going on with you? You’ve been locked away in your office all day and now you’re grilling Connor.”
“Stop worrying,” he replies. “I’m just making conversation.”
He pours red wine into my glass and then fills his own.
“How are your university applications going, Connor?”
Connor hums around a mouthful of pasta, and once he’s swallowed, he wipes his mouth and replies. “Fine. Should hear back in a few days.”
“Right…making any friends in the program?” Bronx asks.
“Not yet.”
“Should be useful for networking opportunities. Who did you say the professor was?”
“Uh…no idea, mate. I’m gonna wait until I get accepted before I start the introductions.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?” Bronx sits back on the bar stool and takes a drink of wine. “I’ll have to do background checks on everyone you come into contact with.”
“All in good time.”
While Bronx pulls out his phone and types another message, my thoughts spin. Something’s off with both of them. Bronx is hiding something from me, and Connor’s acting weird.
And what’s worse, sitting next to him, comfortable and satiated from the best sex of my life, I realize something terrifying.
I’ve let my guard drop around him.
Enough to imagine being his wife for longer than six months.
And that’s the most dangerous thing I could do.
24
BRONX
Something’s off with Connor tonight.
He’s been sitting at our kitchen island for the past hour, picking at Tierney’s lasagna and jumping every time a phone rings or a door closes.
