As Graysons Girlfriend
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
Isabella answered the door before I finished knocking.
Which meant she had been awake for a while and had heard me coming across the shared driveway.
We stared at each other.
"Come in," she said.
The particular tone of someone who had things to say and had been waiting for permission.
The sitting room was warm.
Tea already on the table.
Two cups.
She had known I was coming.
I sat.
She sat across from me.
Pulled her legs up.
Wrapped both hands around her cup.
And looked at me with the expression of someone who had been holding information since yesterday evening and was no longer willing to hold it alone.
"Tell me everything," I said.
She did not need to be asked twice.
According to her, sabestine had arrived at seven.
Which she said with the particular tone of someone who found punctuality in a man both surprising and deeply attractive.
"Seven exactly," she said. "Not seven oh two. Not six fifty eight. Seven."
"He's Grayson's best friend," I said. "It would be surprising if he wasn't punctual."
"It's attractive," she said.
"I didn't say it wasn't," I said.
She gave me a look.
Continued.
The restaurant had been in the quieter part of Auremont not the prestige corridor, not somewhere designed to impress.
Somewhere chosen.
"He asked me three times if the restaurant was right," she said. "Not in an anxious way. In a ... I want this to be what you actually want ... way."
"Isabella," I said.
"Don't say anything yet," she said. "I'm telling the story."
I closed my mouth.
She continued.
They talked for three hours.
Not industry talk.
Not the particular careful conversation of two people performing for each other.
Real conversation.
About Cressford.
About what she had wanted before the institute.
About her father.
About the particular fear of building something and not knowing if it was enough.
"He listened," she said. "Not waiting for his turn. Actually listening."
After dinner they walked.
Through the quieter streets.
He had asked about the second collection.
Asked questions that showed he had been paying attention.
"He knew the name of my collection," she said. "He knew it was called ...wait, no, that's..." she stopped. Frowned. "I haven't named my second collection yet."
"Yes you have," I said. "You told me last week."
"Did I?" she said.
"You said it in passing and immediately changed the subject," I said. "You do that when you've decided something but aren't ready to say it's decided."
She looked at me.
"That's very observant," she said.
"I know you," I said.
She was quiet for a moment.
Then ... "He knew the details. Things I had mentioned once. He remembered them."
I said nothing.
Because I understood exactly what that felt like.
"And then?" I asked.
She looked at her tea.
"He asked me officially," she said.
I looked at her.
"Out," she added. "Officially. He said..." she paused. "He said he had been certain since Paris. And that he didn't want to waste time being uncertain about something he already knew."
"Isabella," I said softly.
"I said yes," she said.
"Obviously," I said.
"It wasn't obvious," she said.
"It was," I said.
She pressed her lips together.
"And... he kissed me."
The sitting room went very quiet.
I looked at her.
"At the door," she said. "When he dropped me home." She looked at the window. "He held my face." She paused. "Like I was something worth being careful with."
I held my cup carefully.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
"Isabella," I said.
"Don't," she said.
"I wasn't going to say anything," I said.
"You were going to say something wise and emotional," she said.
"I was going to say I'm happy for you," I said.
She looked at me.
That soft expression.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
We sat for a moment.
"Your turn," she said.
I looked at her.
"How was your Saturday?" she asked.
"Good," I said.
"Grayson?" she asked.
"He was away," I said.
"And?" she asked.
"We talked on video call," I said.
"And?" she asked.
"He invited me to the Hawthorne family dinner," I said. "Tonight."
Isabella went completely still.
"Tonight,?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"The Hawthorne family dinner," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"As in ...Dominic Hawthorne," she said. "And Marceline Hawthorne.?"
"Yes," I said.
"And Julian Hawthorne," she said.
"Apparently," I said.
"The whole family," she said.
"Yes," I said.
She stared at me.
"When did he ask you?" she asked.
"Last night," I said. "On the call."
"Last night," she repeated.
"Yes," I said.
"And you're telling me now," she said.
"It's Sunday morning," I said. "He asked me last..."
"ALVARA."
I flinched.
"You are meeting the Hawthornes tonight," she said. Standing up. "Not at an industry event. At a family dinner." She looked at me with the particular expression of someone managing a crisis. "Do you understand what that means?"
"It means..."
"It means he is introducing you," she said. "To his parents tonight." She grabbed my arm. "And you were just sitting here telling me about it casually?"
"I thought you'd want to tell me about your date first..."
"We can circle back to my date," she said. "This is an emergency."
"It's not an emergency..."
"Alvara." She held my arm with both hands. "You are meeting Dominic Hawthorne. The man who built an empire. Tonight."
"Mrs. Hawthorne already..."
"Mrs. Hawthorne loves you professionally," Isabella said. "Tonight she meets you as the woman her son is in love with. That is entirely different." She was already pulling me toward the door. "Come."
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"My house," she said.
"We're already in your house," I said.
"My room," she said. "We need to figure out what you're wearing." She was already through the doorway, pulling me behind her. "We have hours. That sounds like a lot. It is not a lot."
"Isabella.."
"No," she said.
"I have clothes..."
"You have good clothes," she said. "We need the right clothes. For the Hawthornes. On a Sunday evening family dinner. As Grayson's girlfriend." She stopped at the foot of her stairs. Turned to look at me fully. "This is not a regular occasion."
I looked at her.
At the complete seriousness on her face.
"He said wear the red lip," I said.
Isabella stared at me.
Then she pointed up the stairs.
"Move," she said.
And I moved.