18. Isaac
CHAPTER 18
ISAAC
T he hum of my office fades to a murmur. I’m here, but not quite. Baxter snores softly from his dog bed in the corner, while I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers.
Did I push too far last night? Emily’s smile, warm yet reserved, replays in my mind. She was pleasant, sure. But she left early. Evasion or simply tired? Others linger for the prestige, the allure of wealth. Not her. That’s rare. Refreshing.
I glance at my phone. We’ve texted a few times today, but it’s been hard to get a read on her mood. I’ve been telling myself to be patient, to let things unfold naturally and in their own time. But the “what-ifs” claw at me with relentless urgency. I can’t wait. So, I type out the words that have been circling my thoughts since dawn.
Would love to see you again soon.
I hit send.
There we go. It’s done. I add my office address, telling her that I would love to give her a tour of the place today if she has the time. I already know she probably won’t come; work claims her time as it does mine. Yet, hope flickers — a candle that can’t fully die.
Refocusing, I dive back into spreadsheets and projections, the tools of my trade. Numbers blur, formulas tangle. Instead of profit margins, it’s the curve of Emily’s lips that I see. What would it be like to kiss her, to feel the soft pressure and warmth?
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the fantasy.
But the image persists, tenacious as the memory of her laughter, light and genuine. In my mind, we’re no longer separated by decorum or hesitation. We’re close, closer than ever before. And just before our lips meet…
“Isaac?” A voice cuts through daydreams.
I shake my head, realizing that it’s Carol, speaking through the intercom.
Heat rises in my cheeks. Even though Carol isn’t a psychic looking into my head and reading my fantasy, I still feel slightly embarrassed. “Yes?” I clear my throat.
“You have a visitor.”
“I do?” I glance at the calendar on my computer, but there’s no meeting scheduled.
Wait. Could it be…?
Was I really sitting here for that long, lost in daydreams? Long enough for Emily to make her way across town?
“Let them in,” I tell Carol.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and then it opens before I can respond. Emily enters, wearing a soft smile, her hair in a messy ponytail that might be the sexiest hairdo I’ve ever seen.
Baxter stirs from his slumber, ears perking up before he bounds across the room with puppylike energy. His tail wags furiously as he greets her, and something warm blooms in my chest at the sight of them together. It’s a picture of simple happiness, unburdened by anything else.
“Hi, Isaac,” she says with that easy smile that always seems to reach her eyes.
“You don’t have to say hello to me.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, suddenly unsure of what to do with these things I’ve had my whole life.
“You invited me over here.”
I grin. “Yes. I did. I hope I wasn’t bothering you.”
“I was in the neighborhood and I actually have something for Baxter.” She holds up a small bag of bacon-flavored dog treats.
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice not quite steady. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I also… wanted to see you.”
She says it so softly that I almost miss it, her gaze now focused intently on Baxter who is frantically tail-wagging in appreciation of the treats she’s giving him one at a time. It’s the words I’ve wanted to hear for so long that they seem unreal.
“You did?” I blink, the taste of surprise bittersweet. It wasn’t long ago that we were two strangers, her swooping in to save me from my dog — or, rather, myself.
“Yeah,” she finally looks up, meeting my gaze squarely. Her eyes are filled with honesty, a kind of pure transparency that leaves no room for doubt. “I missed you.”
She says it like it’s a confession, like she’s giving me a part of her world she’s never shown anyone else. I can do nothing but stand here, wordlessly accepting the gift she offers.
Baxter barks, breaking the silence and somehow lightening the moment. Emily laughs, and the sound echoes through the room.
“That’s because you won’t stop feeding him treats,” I tease her.
“Blame it on me, then,” she answers, tossing another treat at Baxter. “I don’t want to keep you too long…” She glances at my desk, where all the work I don’t want to do waits.
I can tell she means to leave — her body angled toward the door, ready to slip away. But I’m not ready for her to go. Not yet.
“Would you… Could we go for a walk?” I ask, surprising myself with the impulsive invitation.
She blinks, taken aback. “Now? In the middle of your workday?”
“Sure,” I say, more confidently than I feel. Work can wait. This feels important, necessary even.
“Okay,” she agrees, her surprise giving way to a smile that suggests she’s intrigued by my spontaneity. “Let’s go for a walk.”
We take our leave, Baxter trotting happily between us. The bustle of the city envelops us as we step outside, but somehow it all fades into the background. It’s just Emily, Baxter, and me — a trio that a month ago I would have never expected but that now somehow fits perfectly together.
As we walk, I watch her. Really watch her. She’s different from the women I’ve known — the ones drawn to the lure of my last name or the promise of my bank account. With Emily, those things don’t matter. And I realize how refreshing it is to be seen for who I am, not what I possess.
“Thank you for coming,” I say, my words slicing through the hum of the city. “I thought you might be at work and not able to.”
I imagine her at the coffee shop she moonlights at, steaming milk, an apron tied around her waist. The vision I’m conjuring makes her look ridiculously cute. Would it be weird if I popped in there sometime to get a latte from her? I’ve never been to that coffee shop, and it’s not on my way to work at all, but I don’t mind making a detour. Not for her.
“Not today. I was volunteering at the animal shelter. I’d actually run out of dogs to work with by the time you texted me, and I was at the pet store, getting some supplies for the shelter.”
“And that’s where you saw Baxter’s favorite treats?”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t realize that you did shopping for the shelter.”
She shrugs, her gaze focused on the sidewalk ahead. “Not officially, but I help out in any way I can.”
We talk as we wander — about little things, inconsequential things. Yet, with each word exchanged, I find myself wanting to dive deeper, to know the essence of her thoughts, her dreams, her past. The curiosity is a gnawing hunger, a yearning for connection I haven’t felt in a long time.
The scent of her shampoo, citrus and vanilla, wafts to me on the cool breeze. It mixes with the smell of car exhaust and steamed hot dogs from the nearby vendor, creating an oddly intoxicating blend.
She suddenly stops walking, glancing up at a tall building. My rhythm breaks, forcing me to stop and look in the direction she is staring. It’s an old-fashioned film theater with its marquee lit up, listing show times for movies from decades past.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she says, her voice carrying a tone of wonderment.
My gaze follows hers, absorbing the magnificent building as she does. Its aging bricks murmur tales of a different time. “It certainly is,” I say.
The truth is, I’ve passed this theater countless times but I’ve never really seen it. Not like she does now, engrossed in its grandeur. Time seems to stand still for her. She’s lost in a trance, seemingly communicating with the building’s past, its stories and secrets.
Something must have shown on my face because she quickly shifts her gaze towards me, a veil of clouds masking her eyes. “You’ve never noticed it before?” Her inflection curls upwards, making me feel like a schoolboy who failed a simple test.
“No,” I admit. “Not like this. Not until you pointed it out.”
The corners of her lips curl up into an understanding smile. “That’s the essence of life, isn’t it?” she murmurs. “Seeing things for the first time, even when they’ve been there all along.”
“Yes,” I murmur, thinking how that’s the way things have been with her. She came into my life quite unexpectedly, and it took me a bit to really see her. To really understand the jewel I had in front of me.
“Emily…” I pause to gather the courage to continue. “Would you like to have dinner with me again tonight? This time planned?” I tack a grin on the end, hoping that my attempt at humor will sweeten the deal.
She strokes Baxter’s head, considering my offer. There’s a vulnerability in asking, in putting my hopes out there without the security of certainty. Last night was one thing — an impromptu dinner born out of an unexpected blackout — but this… this would be a real, proper date. Our first.
Assuming she accepts.
“Are you sure you want to add dating to your to-do list?” she teases, but there’s a softness in her eyes that tells me she won’t be saying no.
“Absolutely,” I say, my heart steadfast in its newfound purpose. “It’s about time I prioritized what truly matters.”
“Then yes,” she says, her hand brushing against mine — a touch as light as a promise. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
We resume our walk, the city streets stretching out before us. There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a prelude to change. And as I glance over at Emily, her smile a beacon in the ordinariness of the day, I realize I’m ready. Ready to embrace the unknown, to let love chart its course.
Is this what my dad was hoping for me? That by leaving Baxter with me I would stop focusing so much on work and start thinking about other things? Like caring for others; creating relationships outside of the office.
I hate to give it to him, but the old man was kind of a genius.