Chapter 567 Of Course, I Thought Too Highly of Myself
The nonchalance crushed the emotional storm he himself had created in Deirdre. Balling
her hands into fists, she willed herself to suppress the urge not to deck her hand across
Brendan’s face.
“Your conscience? After all the sins you’ve committed? After all the lives you’ve ruined?
And all you get is your wimpy conscience burning a hole in your non-existent soul!? Your
conscience is worthless!”
There was something unreadable and nebulous in Brendan’s black eyes, but he
managed to maintain his caustic tongue. “All that is in the past, McKinnon, so can you
stop yapping about it? What do you want me to do? Scrap my knees begging you for
forgiveness? Grow up.”
“Grow… up?” Deirdre could almost see black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She
could not stop herself from sneering. “I guess you’re right. I need to grow up and stop
being so naive. How could I possibly demand the great and mighty Mr. Brighthall to beg
for my forgiveness? How could I commit the sin of making his conscience slap him on
his wrist!? Oh God, of course! I thought too highly of myself!”
Brendan turned his head sideways. He could not seem to come up with even more
acerbic things to one-up her. Maybe, his fever had gotten severe enough that it was
impeding his thoughts.
Deirdre managed to pull herself out of her rage to ask, “And what about the spaghetti
you wanted me to make? Did you dream of it?”
“Yes.” Something twinkled in his eyes.
Deirdre let the conversation die. Only after a coughing fit seized Brendan, she was
reminded of his medicine. She moved her stiffened body and took it from the table.
Passing it to him, she instructed, “Eat it.”
Before Brendan could enjoy his shock, she added, “Eat it and rest early. I want you to
gain enough strength to proceed with our divorce.”
Any last ounce of hope he had died in his eyes.
He should have known this was what awaited him. His head made his thoughts feel like
a boiling pot of glue swirling inside his skull. Something was choking him from his throat,
making simple conversation way too difficult.
He swallowed the pills, lay down, and sat up again. “Where are you sleeping?”
“I’ll sit,” Deirdre replied flatly.
“Until morning?”
She ignored him.
Brendan grabbed an unused bathrobe, put it on, and climbed out of bed.
Hearing his commotion, Deirdre frowned. “What are you doing?”
“You get into the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
He started toward his destination exactly as he said he would.
Deirdre paused for a minute. Then, she recovered from what she believed was another
one of Brendan’s elaborate games and sneered. “Get back here on the bed. I’m not the
kind of *sshole who’d kick a patient out of his bed for herself.”
Brendan closed his eyes, weary. “Just sleep already.”
He lay on the couch. It was a considerably more limited space to be in, but he managed
to fall asleep. It was only after hearing his slow, rhythmic breathing that Deirdre realized
the man was being sincere. There was no trick, no twist. It was not him putting on a
show.
He really wanted to let her have the bed.
Deirdre was stunned. It took her a while to snap out of her shock.
She pulled the blanket away from the bed and covered him with it, leaving only the
second, thinner layer on herself. She lay on the bed and watched the night pass. She
could not tell when she finally fell asleep-all she knew was that someone’s phone had
woken her up.
By the time she opened her eyes against a migraine, the phone was still ringing in her
ear. She began to reach out with her hand, trying to feel for the offending object, until
she found a phone that had accidentally slipped into the crack between the wall and the
headboard. It belonged to Brendan.
She debated with herself. Should she answer it?
The ringing stopped before she could make a choice. Then, for the fourth time, it started
again.
Deirdre had no choice but to retrace her memory of a smartphone’s interface and slide in
the right direction to answer it. When she began to hear noise coming out of the speaker,
she placed the phone close to her ear.
She did not even have time to speak when she heard an anxious voice calling out,
“Bren!”
The voice sent a sudden chill down Deirdre’s spine.
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