Chapter 23
I slept like shit. I was so worried about Isabelle that I stayed up way too late listening for her, and then every noise woke me thinking she needed something.
The migraine came on so fast. She made us a killer dinner and when I turned around from cleaning up, she was pale, and the light in her eyes had dimmed.
I take my time starting the day. Lingering in the kitchen, I make coffee hoping she'll come out so I can make her a cup of chai tea with the tea bags I found at the market last week. When she doesn’t appear, I start on my to-do list.
My stomach burns from only having coffee this morning. I wanted to wait to eat breakfast with Isabelle, but she still hasn’t woken up. My fist nearly knocks on her door several times to check on her, but she insisted that sleep would make her feel better, so I let her sleep.
Noon comes and goes, leaving me buzzing with anxiety and impatience. I'm about to say fuck it and charge into her room when I hear a door click shut down the hall. I hover in the entryway of the townhome and wait for her to come out.
Sweat clams my palms and my ears start to faintly ring. She looks fucking incredible. Her oversized flannel gives no hint of the divine curves she’s hiding underneath. It makes me want to unbutton it and peel it down her shoulders inch by inch, like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.
The black leggings she's wearing are skintight. And I know from past trips that they get tucked up between her ass cheeks when she walks. If I'm lucky, I get the briefest glimpse of the outline of her pussy when she pulls them up higher. I gulp down my lust.
She smiles tentatively and walks towards me slowly with her hands tucked up into the huge sleeves, fiddling with the cuffs.
Now that she's at arm's length, my chest warms at seeing her perfect face unobstructed by a single speck of makeup. Her eyelashes are so fair without the black spider legs shit. Her shiny blonde hair is clipped out of her face. Loose tendrils too short to be held back frame her face. And mercifully, her eyes have their sparkle back. She must’ve beaten her migraine.
I’m so lost for this girl.
She looks at me expectantly. I’m clueless as to what she's looking for, so I just say, “You look like you’re feeling better.”
Her shoulders deflate a touch. What’s that about?
“Oh. Yes. Right as rain,” she says with forced politeness. She turns from me and heads into the kitchen. Without another word, she shuffles into the kitchen and puts lunch together for us.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on or how to handle lady feelings.
Did she get her period? Do women get headaches around their period?
I feel like I’ve heard that before. I decide that's the most likely scenario and plan on making myself scarce for the rest of the day. I’m more likely to piss her off than be of any help.
In line with my plan, I come in late for dinner and because I’m a coward, am relieved to see that she’s already eaten.
I open the fridge to make myself something and see that she fixed me a plate already.
I pop it in the microwave and the aroma fills the space.
It’s a simple chicken, potato, green bean dish, but the spices she used smell incredible.
I scarf it down in record time, ignoring how hot it is, burning the shit out of my mouth in the process.
I practically lick the plate clean, leaving no scraps to scrape into the trash.
I go to throw away my paper napkin and see an uneaten cupcake sitting on top.
That’s weird. Did she not like it? Or was she too full to eat a second one?
Not sure why she didn’t save it for me, but I shrug it off and close the trashcan.
The townhome is silent until I hear a buzzing sound.
I follow the faint light and find Isabelle’s phone abandoned on a side table.
That’s odd considering she almost always has it within reach.
I don’t mean to snoop, I really don’t. But with the screen lit up I see something that makes my stomach drop.
Twin: Forget him, honey. You deserve so much better.
Livy: He’s such an asshole. I’ll dick punch him myself.
Livy: What a shitty birthday babes! I’m so sorry.
Her birthday? It’s her fucking birthday? Fuck! My mind races trying to figure out whether I knew this and I'm drawing a blank until realization smacks me upside the head.
We were driving through the ranch after leaving the stables and I asked if she was ready for the trip this week. She said, “Sure am! Who doesn’t want to spend their birthday in the middle of nowhere with their boss?” And gave me the cutest wink.
Fuck. Fucking fuck. FUCK!
That’s why she was looking at me so hopeful when she woke up this afternoon. She was waiting for me to wish her a happy birthday. Suddenly, the slumped shoulders and the cupcake in the garbage make complete sense.
I take huge strides towards her closed bedroom door. I'm just raising my fist to knock when I hear an unmistakable sound that cleaves my heart in two. Her wracking sobs are barely muffled through the door.
How the hell do I fix this? It’s way too late, both in the day and in the grand scheme of things, to make it up to her tonight.
I step backwards and slide down the wall across from her room until I’m hunched over on the floor.
I sit with my head in my hands and listen to her heart shatter until she eventually cries herself to sleep. My heart shatters in time with hers.
I have to make this right. Thankfully, this townhome isn’t in the middle of nowhere. I pull out my phone frantically searching for what's in town. Looking at the times places open, I decide. After crying all night, I hope she'll sleep in.
I might have just enough time to pull off a miracle.