Page 99 of Bad Bishop

“Lemonade with ice,” Tiernan repeated verbally. “And crisps for her as well.”

Fintan not speaking ASL made sense. It seemed whatever the twins went through, Fintan wasn’t with them during that time.

“You still haven’t spoken to your ma?” Tiernan asked.

I shook my head, about to elaborate, when I noticed something from the corner of my eye.

A vase with red roses sat on the pub’s bar. My blood curdled into ice.

They reminded me of the tarnished rose tiara.

Pull yourself together. It’s just flowers.

But I couldn’t look away. They were uncanny.

Tiernan waved a hand in front of my face, frowning.

“Have you seen a ghost?”

“I saw much worse.” I gulped hard. “Flowers.”

There was no point in lying to him. Not that I was at risk of receiving flowers from my husband at any point in our marriage.

“Flowers,” he repeated dryly, turning his head to follow my vision, before whipping his head back. “I concur. Hate them. Puppies, too.” He was being sarcastic.

“They remind me of that night.” I squirmed. “I had a white rose tiara. But it became red after the attack. I still remember it, half-buried in the sand.”

He was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, he stood up, ambled to the bar, and knocked the vase inward. Everyone’s heads whipped and the chatter stopped to see what caused the clash. Tiernan returned back to our table and assumed his seat like nothing happened. “Where were we?”

Fintan reappeared with our drinks before I could produce an answer.

“Did you just knock down the vase?” He frowned.

“I did.”

“Uh,why?”

“No more flowers in or around this establishment.”

Fintan’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Because…?”

“I said so.” Tiernan took the first sip of his Guinness, darting his tongue to lick the residue foam from his upper lip. “Now go deal with the flowerpots hanging from the windows.”

Fintan left.

I shook my head. “Thank you. But I can’t avoid roses forever.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“I’ll need to get over it at some point.”

“That point won’t be tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either.”

I took a sip of my lemonade. It was very sweet and made the baby cartwheel in my belly. Which reminded me of another, elephant-sized hurdle between us.

“Ask your questions,” Tiernan said.

“Can you stop calling me wiseass now that we’re friends?”