Resent, Reject, Regret by Aqua Summers

Chapter 567

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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."

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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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Resent, Reject, Regret by Aqua Summers

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