Chapter 16 #2
“Sure.” I sighed and followed him a few steps further out onto the terrace. It was a bit private here.
“What’s up?” I asked. I hadn’t actually planned how I was going to deal with him. I knew how I wanted him to react, but past
that I hadn’t figured out what I wanted, and that shadow had been following me around all night.
So, I let him take the lead and decided I’d figure it out at some point while he talked.
“All Francesca told me was that this was a family friend’s wedding,” he explained, running his hand through his hair with
a huff. “I didn’t know . . . I mean. If I did know you’d be here . . .”
I guess we were starting with why he was even here. It was something that had been bothering me, the blatant disregard for
how I might feel. Or that he’d simply forgotten I existed.
An ache moved through me.
“I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t realize Selena was . . . Selena,” he went on. “By the time I did, we were already on our way.”
My face scrunched. “You didn’t bother to read the invitation until you were leaving for the wedding?”
That kicked a memory forward. The two of us getting ready—after a long morning in bed—for his business school graduation,
and he hadn’t even known where it was. He’d assumed I knew. I had, but that wasn’t the point.
The irritation from that day set a match alight around my nerves.
“No,” he scoffed, looking around aimlessly, frustrated. “Come on. You know how I feel about this stuff. I figured it was some
society girl’s wedding.”
Society girl. The words rang in my ears. He could act like he was somehow above all of this, but he was engaged to a society girl.
Blake came from one of those long-standing American families that were nestled somewhere between DC and Boston. Not rich-rich
like the Amaris, but well-to-do. They had legacies at certain schools. They weren’t a part of the Manhattan high-society scene,
but I’d met enough of his family in the past to know they wanted to be.
Was that why they were together? I hated myself for wondering.
“Maybe next time, read the invitation,” I said, sharper than I intended, nearly flinching at my own reaction.
I was supposed to be acting unbothered.
“I wouldn’t have come if—”
“Congratulations on the engagement, by the way.” I pulled my shoulders back, folded my hands in front of myself. “I hope you two are happy together.”
I tried to make it sound genuine even though I had to force it through my lips.
“I was going to tell you,” he added in a mumble.
“It’s not like I gave you a play-by-play about Austin,” I excused.
I didn’t want to react. I didn’t want him to see it. I didn’t want to feel it. I was sick of feeling it.
That awful blurriness that made me question if I kept choosing the wrong path. That maybe I should have considered residency
in California and forgone the best program in the country.
I hated that he made me wonder. My ambition was so bright that it led me forward. I chose to follow it, and I was always so
sure about that choice until now. I hated him for making me question it.
He paused. “Yeah, you and . . .”
“Austin,” I repeated, hoping that a tiny burst of dopamine from seeing him struggle with this would make all of the anguish
go away. I wanted to see him caught off guard like I was.
“You’re seeing him?” He blinked and scrunched his face like I was speaking a different language. “Like, an actual relationship?”
“No, we just play a couple on TV,” I drawled sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “Yes, we’re in an actual relationship.”
His eyebrows drew in. “You don’t have time for those.”
“I made time,” I lied, diplomatic but sharp.
It helped mask the deep pain that clogged the back of my throat.
I never made time because I couldn’t. I was busy.
My first few years of residency had been nonstop work.
When that schedule loosened and I could’ve visited him, I found research obligations.
I couldn’t make time for us, but neither could he.
“You made time?” His jaw was set on edge. Maybe I finally hit a nerve. He mumbled something inaudible under his breath.
“Obviously.” I motioned around, not sure what he was questioning, my dedication to the relationship or if it was a real one.
Either way, I was doubling down. “I brought him to Selena’s wedding. It’s not some fling.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t realize that making time for a relationship was possible for you.”
I swallowed hard to avoid that poisonous feeling distilled down to a dull tremor in my muscles. Despite wanting to snap at
him, I took a deep breath. If I wanted to be the winner here, I had to seem like I was perfectly fine, completely unaffected no matter how twisted up I felt.
Before Blake could say anything, a pair of deep-blue eyes caught mine.
“Isa.” Austin walked through the open doorway, two drinks in hand.
He set both on the balustrade a foot away, then took a few steps to me. Austin didn’t bother to acknowledge Blake as he stepped
between us and his palms spread over my waist at each side. A warmth seeped into me. “Is everything alright?”
Gentle and strong, Austin’s voice wrapped around me.
I nodded, trying to get my expression under control. Blake was only a few steps away, but now that Austin stood between us,
his body would at least keep Blake from seeing it.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded again.
“Do you want him back?” Austin turned me around so he was facing the party; his gaze went from me to over his shoulder, then
back to me.
Everything was foggy, but one thing was clear. That feeling from the lobby came back, cutting me so deep I could feel it in
my bones. Seeing Blake and Francesca together was a different kind of pain than I was expecting.
It wasn’t heartbreak—at least, not for him.
I just really thought Blake got it. That he saw what I was building toward, who I was becoming. I let myself believe he could
wait. That we’d come back together when the timing was right, and everything I’d worked for would finally fit with love, too.
That I could have both: the kind of career my mom sacrificed and the relationship I wanted, the kind I saw my best friend having, the kind that made me sure I couldn’t settle for anything
less.
Maybe I wanted to believe it so badly that I had ignored all the signs. Seeing Blake walk away was proof that the intrusive
voice in my head—the one that always chirped up when I missed something important in sacrifice to my career—was right. It
wasn’t just losing him—it was the way it made me question everything. Was I pushing myself too hard? Was I choosing something
that would leave me empty and alone?
Maybe I was angry at Blake for not being strong enough to wait. But mostly I was angry at myself—for letting someone else’s timeline make me question my own. For thinking, for even one second, that I should shrink my ambition to fit into someone else’s comfort zone.
Blake had confirmed what I should have always known to be true. I couldn’t have my career and everything else, too. I had
to pick. And I did.
“I . . .” I stammered, choking back the emotions until they were deep enough that I could assure myself they weren’t going
to come back up. With my back turned to the party, and my reaction hidden, I could relax a bit. “Why does that matter?”
“It informs my next decision,” he answered steadily, a hand on my waist holding me tight. The other stayed fanned over the
column of my neck. “Do you want him back?”
Austin’s reassuring grip felt like a lighthouse. The storm brewed, but I could make out a few things. His cut-glass profile
in the moonlight. The heavy stillness of his palm against my back. A chance to at least placate my pride.
Instead of acknowledging the pain, I wanted something to mollify it. And maybe I wanted to make Blake feel it for a while.
“What do you want, Isa?” Austin took a step closer. His thumb firmly swiped back and forth along my cheek.
His eyes flicked to look inside, then right back to me.
“I just want . . .” I took another deep breath, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of my voice. “I want him to know I don’t want him back. And I want it to hurt.”
His eyes immediately softened at the corners, and he drew closer.
His fingers laced up the back of my neck and through my hair. His thumb ran along my jaw, tilting my chin up.
“That’s what you want?” His breath sent goose bumps along my skin. My heart raced for a new reason.
“Yes,” I murmured. A spark popped between us.
Without another word, his fingers pressed firmly against me, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. At first hard, a
little menacing, but a second later, softer.
A tiny moan fell out of my lips. Responding, he pulled my body flush against his. I opened my mouth, and he deepened the kiss
in an instant.
Like throwing gasoline on an open flame, my body ignited in an uncontrollable flash. He felt good—tasted even better. Every
nerve lit up, a mind-altering high pulsing through me. Electricity roared in my ears, broken only by the low, ragged groan
that rumbled from his throat.
An ache blossomed between my legs, and my knees began to give way. Not that it mattered; by that point he held me so tightly,
he was holding me up.
It was all-consuming—deep, relentless, and passionate. He gave me no chance to breathe, no moment to pull away.
His fingers burned into my skin. His hand along my jaw kept me close as he controlled the pace and intensity. Seconds later,
his other hand fanned along my cheek.
Every chance I got to take a breath was coupled with an uncontrollable whimper for more. The pent-up anger, angst, and heat
that I had felt all night combusted into that kiss.
My shallow breaths were making me lightheaded. Finally, I pulled away—slowly, keeping my hand splayed across his muscular
chest. His body rose and fell beneath my palm with deep, tortured gulps of air.
Alarms blared in my head for a whole new reason. Just moments ago, I was seething with anger at Blake, yet now my body had softened into Austin’s with an ease I didn’t recognize. For a brief second, I’d let myself get lost in that kiss. I’d felt calm. Safe.
But reality knocked me back into the present. Like a good fake boyfriend, Austin had played his part. Blake was watching.
“Did he see it?” I said between heavy breaths.
“Hmm?” His eyes, like spilled blue ink, struggled to focus as he blinked a few times.
“Did he see it?” I repeated, more firmly this time.
He flicked his eyes over my shoulder, then back to me.
“Yeah. He did,” he answered gruffly, his hand loosening its grip on my waist, but he didn’t let go. “Come on. We’re going
to leave, and he’s going to go a little crazy wondering where we snuck off to.”