Chapter 16
Isabelle
I made my way into the welcome party that was beginning to fill the ballroom overlooking the Ritz’s expansive garden. After
having spent the afternoon with Selena, I managed not to think about Blake until I made it to the event.
Turning the corner to the gilded entrance of the ballroom to meet Austin, I checked my phone to see if any emails had come
in. The Winthrop Fellowship Selection Committee would start sending out the first-round interview requests anytime after the
application close date.
And that was two days ago.
It was silly to expect that I’d have word back by now, but a part of me was hoping for it today. A little reminder that I
had a deeply important job and an important life to get back to.
A way to level the seesaw in my mind.
Taking a few more steps across the marble floor, my eyes landed on two people in front of the domed ballroom. Every worry about the Winthrop fellowship vanished. My body filled with a heavy dread.
Standing in front of the double doors were Blake and Francesca. In the middle of a conversation, they didn’t seem to notice
me until my heels made an audible click when I stopped short, the black satin from my floor-length gown swooshing against
the back of my legs.
Their conversation stopped.
Looking as perfect as ever in a romantic magenta dress that swept against her knees at the front but bowed and hit the floor
along the back, Francesca’s gunmetal eyes rolled to Blake. Her mouth closed tight with her lips in a hard line.
My heart thudded into my stomach.
“Ummm . . .” I stammered for a second before pulling it together. I couldn’t freeze again. “Hello.”
Humiliation hit me like a wave. Fuck, why hadn’t I planned to walk in with Austin? Why was I screwing this up? All I wanted
was for this knot that pushed the stomach acid into my throat to loosen.
“Isa.” Blake’s voice was low and grated, exactly like it used to sound in the morning.
The urge to escape—pretend this wasn’t happening, snooze this interaction as long as I could—climbed up my body, tempting
my brain to find an exit, but pride kept my shoes cemented to the floor.
“I’m Isabelle.” I stuck my arm out to Francesca, trying my best to not look at Blake, my heart slamming against my sternum.
“The maid of honor.”
Francesca’s eyes moved down my body slowly in recognition. Her tense frame only became more jagged.
“Francesca.” Her shoulders slumped down an inch, her lips tipped up at the ends. “And this is my fiancé, Blake Thompson.”
“We’ve met,” Blake mumbled, nearly under his breath, looking at Francesca almost pleadingly. They were clearly in the midst of a conversation that may have been about me.
Blake looked up at me apologetically. “Hi, Isa.”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything.
Confident. Strong. A reminder that I was perfectly fine.
But like trying to run in waist-deep water, nothing moved me. I needed something, anything to pull me out.
Blake’s eyes went from me to directly over my shoulder, going wide for a moment before they narrowed and his brow scrunched.
Just before I could look over my shoulder, Austin’s voice filled the air.
“There she is.” Austin’s deep greeting loosened the constriction along my ribs.
I could breathe. The nerves, unease, all of it dissolved away. For a second, his reluctantly warm eyes felt like an anchor
as one arm slid along my waist.
Blake’s cheeks sank and his mouth parted slightly. At least I wasn’t the only one to freeze.
“You’re . . .” Blake stammered. Finally, I had him on the ropes.
“Austin, honey, this is Francesca and her fiancé, Blake,” I delivered calmly, feeling some degree of balance.
“Nice to meet you,” Austin said with what felt like a practiced politeness. Something he definitely didn’t use in his day-to-day or even when it was something important—like interviews. But he put his hand out, careful to leave the other wrapped around me. “Austin Cade.”
Blake’s eyes flicked between Austin and me, the slow realization dawning on him as Austin leaned in and pressed a kiss on
my head.
Playing along, I leaned in further, and he pulled me closer.
He shook Blake’s hand like it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Blake, however, was stationary in disbelief. His mouth opened and stayed that way, loose, like he’d forgotten all his manners.
He looked at us like we were the Sunday crossword and he’d definitely filled in an incorrect word somewhere. I tried to memorize the look, but my attention on him lost its sharpness.
Dulled by a new, mildly warm, almost sensual feeling on my back.
Austin’s thumb grazed up and down against the thin satin, but I could feel it so keenly it was like there was no fabric there
at all. Each swipe was like a wave that crested over my muscles with a sea of tingles.
“The American Footballer, of course,” Francesca announced with a forced cheeriness after a couple awkward seconds. “The Amaris
seem to know everyone.”
“Oh. I’m not a guest of the Amaris’,” Austin explained. His eyes moved over mine slowly. I would have liked to chalk it up
to acting, but something about his gaze kept mine glued to it. “I’m Isa’s date. We actually met a few months ago, at work.”
In my periphery, I could see Blake’s shoulders hike up his body.
“Work?” Blake spat it out like he was trying to make a point, but whatever it was seemed to be lost in the argument he was
having in his head.
“And then, when I was injured, being around Isa even more was my silver lining,” Austin told him, but kept his eyes on me for an extended pause before looking at Blake and driving
it home. Austin’s hand moved to gently push a curl behind my ear. “Talk about a lucky break.”
My stomach tumbled. Why was he so good at this? I was in on it and even I fell for it—for half a second.
“Mm-hmm.” I ran a hand along his chest, hoping to get the high I was chasing from this, but it still hadn’t hit. Austin’s
arm pulled tighter against my waist. “It worked out.”
“It did,” Austin agreed, a boyish grin snaking its way up his cheek, tipping up into an intrigued smirk on the side they couldn’t
see.
My heart raced, forgetting for a second what exactly we were doing. Lost in the magnetic draw from those crystalline eyes,
I felt another round of tingles sweep up my back and along my skin.
“You’re . . .” Blake murmured, breaking the short but heavy spell. “Together?”
I leaned my head on Austin’s shoulder. “We are.”
Blake looked at his fiancée. Her eyebrows drew together, and before he could stumble through the rest of the thought, she
intervened.
“Oh.” Francesca gently patted Blake’s arm. She leaned in and her smile looked manufactured, like she was trying to find a way out of the conversation. “I think that’s Misha. I wanted to talk to her.”
With a polite goodbye, something stammered out of Blake’s mouth, but he was pulled away before he had a chance to finish the
thought.
“Someone get this woman an Oscar.” Austin teased in my ear, ducking his head; mischief painted the steep cut of his jaw when
he looked down at me.
I tried to get a handle on my speeding pulse and thoughts with a playful smack against his shoulder, taking a second to realize
he still hadn’t pulled his arm out from around me. “Told you. Quick study.”
“I guess all you needed was the right inspiration.” He cleared his throat and took a step back. “And that looked as close
to skin melting as you can get. Feel better?”
Austin handed me a glass from a circulating waiter as we walked inside.
I did. For a second. The second Blake’s face fell when he registered that I was just as moved-on as he was. I expected that
high to last a little longer than it did, and now I just felt . . . empty and a little sick.
That feeling that sets in an hour after eating an entire bag of gummy bears. Nausea and regret. But as much as I interrogated
my mind, I couldn’t pin that regret on anything. Was it losing Blake? Was it not trying harder to keep him? Was it really
just the letdown of petty revenge?
“Yeah.” I let his hand fall back to his side. “That was exactly what I wanted.”
Or at least, that’s what I thought I wanted.
An hour or so after dinner, the guests floated through the garden and the ballroom.
Austin was pretty good company. And when we weren’t attempting to fool anyone into believing we were dating, we got wrapped
up in conversation about the research I did at the Lightning training facility. In fact, I hadn’t realized that I was talking
about it for almost an hour. But he kept asking follow-up questions, and what was I going to do? Not talk about pioneering minimally invasive robotic-assisted surgery?
I talked so much that I ran through my drink, and Austin went to get more, and I waited for him on the terrace that opened
up to the gardens. The warm summer air competed with the cool air-conditioning as I stood between the two party spaces.
I glanced around the tall hedges. Just above them the city’s lights glowed, but here inside the hedge perimeter was a lush
garden that could have just as easily been in the middle of nowhere.
“Isa.” His voice hit my ear like the melody of a song you’d memorized. The kind where you only need the first note to recognize
and recite the whole thing.
My gaze moved to him. “Hey, Blake.”
The dim light from the outdoor sconces cast shadows along his cheekbones and down his hard-set jaw. His eyes met mine before they flickered all over, searching.
I hadn’t seen him in over a year and this was the first time I let myself actually look at him. His hair had grown a little, slicked back neatly, but my memory showed it to me as I always remembered it. In my apartment,
messy from a lazy day on the couch or a few hours in bed.
The tux fit a little more securely on top of a more toned physique.
“Can we talk?” He scanned the ballroom, and I did the same, catching a glimpse of Austin, who’d been roped into conversation
with the mother-of-the-groom again. “Alone?”