A SAINT AMONG SINNERS | Mayans Mc

01: A Morning To Cherish.

7 Years Later

Teresa was awoken by the sun peering in through the window. She reached over the bed to be met with a cold empty space. Sighing to herself, she hating waking up without her husband.

After grabbing the nearest t-shirt to slip on, she walked down the hall, and stopping outside her daughter's room. She slowly pushed the door open, the sight before her, bringing a bright smile to her lips.

Her little girl was still fast asleep, tucked in bed with her favourite stuffed animal. She carefully closed the door, hoping not to wake her, before continuing on through the house.

As Teresa entered the living room, she could smell the nicotine in the air. Something was wrong. She had a rule about smoking in their home, and her husband only broke it when his mind was focused on the club.

Walking through the kitchen, Teresa leaned against the side of the cabinets, admiring her husband from afar.

Bishop was sitting at their dining table, cigarette in hand which leant against the ashtray. She could tell he hadn't been sleeping. The sunlight lit up his face, allowing her to notice the dark circles under his eyes.

After seeing that his kutte was on the floor, Teresa moved to pick it up. Her eyes landing straight on the patch that read, President. Her fingers began tracing around it, remembering the day she had sewed it on for him. She laid his kutte down on the back of the chair, as she walked to him at the other end of the table.

"Buenos días, Mi Amor." Teresa said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Bishop's cheek, her hands resting on his shoulders.

There was instantly smile on his lips when he heard her voice, a soothing sound that pulled from the depths of his mind.

"Morning." He mumbled against her skin, after taking a hold of her hand, and bringing it to his lips.  It was a simple reply that caused Teresa to be concerned. Her husband never usually greeted her like that in the morning, or ever.

"What's going on Obispo?" She asked, taking a seat next to him. She was still holding onto his hand as she gave it a gentle squeeze, resting them on the table.

Very few people called Bishop by his name. Although Teresa mostly used it for him to understand her seriousness, he still always loved to hear her say it.

Bishop only shook his head, pulling at Teresa's hand for her to stand, as he pushed his chair out from under the table. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his lap. His other hand rested on her knee after stubbing out his cigarette.

Teresa placing her finger under his chin, lifting his head to look up at her. The concerned and annoyed expression on her face let Bishop know she wasn't happy he brushed off her question.

They had a deal. For their relationship to work, they needed to talk to each other. Teresa told him about her work worries, and Bishop told her about his club worries. Of course, they kept out certain details, but it helps keep their relationship flowing.

"Later..." Bishop told her. "Promise." He brought his hand up to her hair, gently pushing her lips onto his before she had the chance to respond. The kiss was short and sweet. Both of them had a smile on their face as they pulled away.

Bishop was enjoying this peaceful moment with his wife. Her head resting on his shoulder, with his hand lazily drawing shapes on her bare thighs. Both of them wanted to savour every second of it, to cherish it forever. They didn't get many moments like this, so they were always extra special to them.

However, their moment was quickly interrupted by the cries of their daughter, Grace.

Both of them were instantly up on their feet, with their little girl running straight towards her father. "Mi hija." He began, pulling Grace into a warm embrace as he picked her up. "What's wrong?" Bishop asked, glancing down at his daughter who had tucked her head in his neck.