Isabelle
“Daddy!” Angelique calls out. I turn to find Jericho walking into her room looking like he hasn’t slept in the twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him. For some reason I expected he’d be at my side constantly. Keeping an eye on me. Watching to make sure I eat. Making sure I don’t hurt his baby. But after the day he fed me soup, I didn’t see him again. When I woke, his side of the bed hadn’t been slept in.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, catching Angelique in his arms when she runs to him, lifting her in a bear hug.
It’s still shocking for me to see him like this. He is so completely different with his daughter than he is with me. With anyone. Like a man I don’t know. The one I wish I did.
I touch my stomach. Will he be like this with our baby? Or will he hate him or her because of the Bishop blood?
“Nana said you probably had a lot of meetings,” she says. “I didn’t even get to see you at dinner.”
“It was a long day,” he replies, setting her back on the floor and, still holding her hand, walks toward her desk. He glances at Angelique’s book, lying open. It’s a children’s book about music. Specifically, about a bear who has a gift for the violin. It was one of my favorites when I was younger. When I asked Leontine if we could buy it for Angelique, she had it and several others delivered to the house within just a few hours.
This all happened before, though. I’m now using Before and After as demarcations of time. Of my life. Before, when I knew Jericho St. James was evil, but I didn’t know how evil. Now, in the After, I know.
“Isabelle,” he says, setting a heavy hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“She’s much better,” Angelique says. “Aren’t you, Belle?”
“I am, sweetheart.” I smile to her, then fix my face when I turn it to him. I want to be sure he gets the message but not cause any harm to Angelique in the process.
“You’re eating?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I stand up. “I’ll go,” I say, assuming he wants time with his daughter and step toward the door.
“What are you reading?” he asks, picking up the book, glancing at the title then a few pages of the interior.
“It’s about a bear who can play the violin even when he’s little,” Angelique says. “See?” she takes the book and turns a few pages. “Belle is going to teach me to play too but I’m still too young.”
Jericho looks at me. “That’s very good. Maybe she’ll play for us later today. What do you think, Angelique?”
“Oh, she’s very good, daddy. You should hear her.”
I feel myself flush and turn away from Jericho. “I’d love to hear her. Later today then,” he says to me.
“If I’m not too tired.” I try to move my lips into a smile.
A knock comes on the door and Leontine steps inside. “Time for lunch,” she says.
“Then we can go?” Angelique asks her.
“Go?” Jericho asks, eyebrows arching.
“Your mother and I are taking Angelique to a local bookstore,” I say, feeling rebellious. Like I want to challenge him.
Jericho’s eyebrows now disappear into his hairline. “You’re what?”
“A bookstore. You know, where they sell books? They host a story time after lunch for kids Angelique’s age. We’re going to take her to story time and then we’re going to eat cake.”
“It’s a special place, daddy. Cotton Candy. Belle showed me pictures. Everything is pink and looks like cotton candy and they even have—”
“Who said you could do this?” Jericho asks, cutting her off, glaring at me.
I smile wide. “I had a craving for cake.”
He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and squeezes a warning. “Catherine can bake you a cake.”
“No. It’s a very particular cake they have only at Cotton Candy. You don’t want me to ignore a craving, do you?”
“Please daddy? You can even come with us.” He looks down at Angelique, opening his mouth, but she continues. “Uncle Zeke said he’d have cake for lunch! I’d like cake for lunch, but Nana said I have to have lunch first.”
“Zeke’s coming?” he asks.
“He is,” I say, my smile widening. “Isn’t he sweet to take time out of his busy day for us?”
Something twitches in Jericho’s temple. “Fine,” he says through clenched teeth.
“You’ll come?” Angelique asks excitedly jumping up and down.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Leontine says, looking surprised and satisfied. “That’s settled then. Do you think I need to change the reservation, Isabelle?” Leontine asks me.
“No, it’ll be fine to add one more chair. And if not, Jericho can always sit on his own.” That last part is directed at him.
“Belle knows the owner,” Angelique says. “She’s friends with her. She’s a pastry chef. She’s baking us something special.”
“I bet.”
“Maybe I’ll even ask her to put something extra special in yours,” I tell Jericho.
He shifts his gaze to me. It turns to a glare.
“Come, Angelique,” Leontine says. I wonder if she senses the tension building.
“Belle aren’t you going to have lunch?” Angelique asks.
“Of course.” I take a step toward them, but Jericho catches my arm.
“We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Angelique looks at us but Leontine ushers her out of the room.
As soon as they’re gone, I tug free of Jericho’s grip and walk out into the hallway. I get as far as my bedroom but just as I put my hand on the doorknob, Jericho closes his hand over mine.
“You were craving cake?” he asks, words clipped.
His proximity makes something flutter in my stomach. Makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I shift my gaze from our joined hands to his eyes without turning my head.
“A day ago, you couldn’t keep food down, wife of mine.”
“I guess the vitamins really worked.” I have been feeling better but honestly all I’ve eaten has been more of that soup. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach cake, but I was dying to get out of the house, and this was the way to do it. Knowing I’m pregnant has made me braver. Given me a backbone.
“Hm.”
He opens the door and gestures for me to enter. When I pass him, I notice a familiar scent on him. I can’t quite place it but it doesn’t belong on him. Doesn’t belong here in this house.
“Where were you?” I ask when he closes the door.
“Did you miss me?”
“I was just wondering because the nausea going away coincided so nicely with your absence, I just wondered if it would be best if you stayed away for the next nine months. Or forever. Either works for me. Or better yet, let me go home.”
Home. That’s when I realize what the smell is.
I lean toward him and sniff his collar.
“What are you doing?” he asks.