20. Isaac
CHAPTER 20
ISAAC
T he office feels too quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your temples and reminds you of rooms left too long empty. I’m at my desk, but not really here. My gaze is fixed on the skyline, where the sun dips close to the horizon, painting the glass buildings with amber light. Emily’s laughter echoes in my ears, a melody I didn’t know I’d missed until now. Baxter’s tail wagging in sync with our steps, an odd yet perfect symphony.
A pile of reports sits untouched by my elbow. Numbers and forecasts, they’re important; they say who’s winning, who’s losing. But today, they’re just paper and ink. Today, Emily’s smile outshines them all, her eyes bright enough to outdo the city lights.
“Isaac?” Carol’s voice cuts through the haze of daydreams. “Your three o’clock? They’ve been waiting.”
“Shoot.” I lurch to my feet, the spell broken. How did I forget? Meetings are the scaffolding of my day, but Emily and her gentle ways have unraveled them without even trying.
“Sorry,” I mutter, grabbing the laptop that I should’ve had in my hands twenty minutes ago.
The meeting room is stuffy, filled with expectant faces and the scent of ambition. Apologies fall from my lips, their edges blunted by distraction. We talk land plots and strategies, but my mind keeps wandering back to Emily. To her warmth, to the possibilities she’s unknowingly penned into my life’s script.
It ends in a blur, handshakes and nods, promises to reconvene. I return to my office, to Carol’s knowing look. Does she see it? The shift inside me, the softening of edges worn sharp by years of loss?
“You’ve been miles away lately,” she says, leaning against the doorframe. “Anything I can help with? Your father’s estate… or the dog?”
The dog in question lifts his head from the bed in the corner, where he’s been snoozing since we returned from our walk with Emily.
“Things are going well, actually,” I reply, and mean it.
The weight of my father’s absence is still there, but it’s different now. Lighter, maybe. Or perhaps just less noticeable thanks to everything that I have going on.
Carol smiles. “That pretty dog trainer has something to do with it, doesn’t she?”
“Maybe,” I say slowly, although I can’t keep back the smile.
“I like Emily. She seems wonderful… and I already know she’s a genius with dogs.”
“She’s very smart,” I agree, although she’s so much more than that.
“It’s good to see you socializing.”
I bristle, more out of reflex than true annoyance. “I have a personal life, Carol.”
“Do you?” She arches an eyebrow. “Name one friend.”
The silence stretches too long, filled with the names of business associates, contacts, partners. But friends? My chest tightens.
“Fine. I don’t get out much.”
“It wasn’t an accusation. I’m just happy to see you happy.”
“Thank you. And things are changing,” I say, the words less for her and more for myself. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Good.” She nods, her smile softening. “You deserve that, Isaac. Really.”
I watch her retreat, the click of her heels fading as she returns to her desk. Alone again, I let myself think about tonight. About Emily waiting in her apartment, about the moments we’ll share. It’s a new chapter, one I’ve never allowed myself to read before.
Change, I’ve learned, isn’t just about what you lose. It’s about what you find along the way.
Noticing the time, I realize the meeting went way over. There’s no time for me to go home and get ready for tonight’s date. Luckily, the gym here has showers and I always keep a few changes of clothes at work.
I head down to the floor right below my office. My steps echo in the empty hallway as I make my way to the executive gym, a place of isolation even in a building full of people.
Showering quickly, I toggle between hot and cold water, letting the shock of it awaken my senses. Dressing, I carefully select a charcoal suit from the options available. It’s not as casual as I’d prefer for a dinner with Emily, but it’s better than showing up in my business attire reeking of today’s stress and worry.
With one last look at myself in the mirror, I rush back to my office. Baxter is up from his bed, tail wagging in anticipation of dinner.
“Damn.” The word slips out as I glance at my watch. Five forty p.m. How have I forgotten about Baxter?
I need to take him home, but there’s no time. I’ll have to tell Emily I’m running late. Baxter needs a walk and some food.
“Leaving early?” Carol’s voice cuts through my reverie as I stride toward the door, Baxter trotting next to me.
“Got plans,” I respond, already halfway through the threshold. “Dinner with Emily.”
“Wait, Isaac. What about Baxter?”
I pause, the question anchoring me back to the present. “I… forgot to make arrangements. I’m taking him home. I was just about to tell Emily I’ll be late.”
“Want me to take him? He knows my place well enough.” Carol is already reaching for his leash. “He used to stay there all the time when your father couldn’t take him on trips.”
“Would you?” Gratitude floods me. Carol for the win once again. I was dreading having to tell Emily I’m running behind.
“Of course. Go enjoy your date.” She smiles, and it’s a warm thing, a shared secret between us.
I bend down to scratch Baxter’s ears. “You’re going to stay with Carol tonight, buddy,” I tell him, and there’s a pang in my chest.
Baxter has been my constant, my shadow, since Dad passed. Leaving him, even for an evening, feels like another small letting-go. It’s weird to think that only weeks ago I couldn’t stand this beast, and now I’m starting to feel like I wouldn’t be able to live without him.
“Thank you,” I say, sincerity heavy in my voice. “Really.”
“Anytime.” She waves me off, adding, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
A laugh escapes me, brief and genuine. “That leaves plenty of room for interpretation.”
With a final nod to Carol, I leave my office, the door clicking shut behind me like the closing of a book I’ve read too many times. This company is still important to me, but right now it needs to take a back seat.
As I make my way to Emily, the sun dips lower, painting the world in hues of gold and amber. It’s beautiful and bittersweet, this transition from day to night, from what I knew to what I hope to discover.
The drive to Emily’s apartment is a blur of traffic lights and honking horns, the city’s heartbeat syncing with my own. I park, check my reflection briefly in the rearview mirror, and exit the car. The evening air greets me, a mix of slight chill and the promise of warmth to come.
I’m punctual, as always. But as I stand outside her door, it’s clear that this moment doesn’t adhere to the tick of a clock. It’s about the leap of faith, the hope that what lies beyond will be worth the risk.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself.
And then I knock.
The door swings open, and there she stands — Jenn, not Emily. She’s just as Emily described: tall, with a watchful gaze that seems to weigh my intentions from across the threshold.
“Isaac?” Her voice is friendly, but I can tell she’s dissecting me.
“Hi, Jenn,” I reply, nodding. “Emily’s mentioned you.”
“Only good things, I hope.” A small smile plays on her lips as she steps aside, ushering me into the apartment.
“Of course.”
The place is cozy, lived-in, with photos of Emily and Jenn laughing together on the walls. It’s the kind of warmth that comes from shared memories, from being there for each other through thick and thin. I can see how this space could foster a bond strong enough to inspire protectiveness.
It makes sense that Emily’s friends would be her family, since she isn’t close to her parents. It makes me want to try extra hard to impress Jenn.
“Emily will be out in a sec,” Jenn says, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. “Can I get you anything while you wait? Water? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” My hands find their way into my pockets, fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of my slacks. Nervous habit.
“Okay, then.” She watches me, curious but not intrusive. “Just holler if you change your mind.”
“Will do.”
“Isaac?”
Her voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn. There she is. Emily.
Time slows. She’s a vision in soft fabric that whispers over her skin, a delicate dress that seems made of moonlight and dreams. Her hair falls in gentle curls around her shoulders, framing her face with careless grace. It’s a look that speaks of effort, but also of ease — the perfect balance between trying and simply being.
“Wow,” escapes from me before I can stop it, a single word that carries the magnitude of every sensation coursing through me.
“Good wow or bad wow?” Emily asks, a playful lilt to her voice, though I can see the vulnerability hiding in the corner of her smile.
“Definitely good,” I assure her, and it feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever said.
“Ready?” she asks, stepping closer, her scent — a mix of lavender and something slightly spicy — filling the space between us.
“Absolutely.”
We make our way out of the apartment, leaving the safety of familiar surroundings behind. Jenn gives us a wave, and I offer a grateful nod in return; knowing Emily has someone like Jenn in her life eases a lingering tension I hadn’t realized I was holding on to. Life is rough, and it’s good to know that Emily has someone at home to always have her back.
The walk to the car is a blur, my focus solely on Emily beside me. The click of her heels against the pavement, the soft light from the setting sun glinting off her hair — it’s as if the world is putting on a show just for us.
I open the passenger-side door for her, and she slides in with a grace that makes it seem like she’s floating rather than moving. As I close the door gently behind her, I catch a glimpse of her eyes — deep pools reflecting the sky as day fades to night. There’s trust there, expectation, and something that looks a lot like hope.
Tonight, I already know, will be amazing.
Circling around to the driver’s side, I slip into the seat and start the engine. The car hums to life, and I glance over at Emily, our eyes meeting.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say.
She nods. “I am.”
“Good.” I’ve reserved a table at one of the most popular restaurants in the city.
The city lights flicker like distant stars as I pull up to the spot, which is already teeming with activity. The valet takes my keys with a nod, and we step into the warmth that spills out from the lobby. The host recognizes me right away and gives a warm welcome. I suddenly feel awkward. I meant to impress Emily by bringing her here, but will she think it’s too flashy? Or that I’m trying too hard?
I know I’m overthinking, but my nerves are getting the best of me tonight. It’s strange. I’m not normally like this on dates — though, granted, I haven’t dated in quite a while. Perhaps I’m just out of practice.
The host leads us to a table secluded from the rest, a view of the city skyline painting the window beside us. The best table. For her.
“Wow,” she breathes, taking it all in — the elegance, the ambiance, the surreal feeling of being on top of the world — and I realize that I did the right thing, bringing her here.
Just like that, I feel tremendously better not only about myself but about the whole night.
“Only the best,” I say, pulling out her chair.
She sits, and I catch her scent again. It stirs something primal in me, a deep longing, a pull that’s stronger than gravity. It takes my breath away. I move to my seat, unable to shake that intoxicating fragrance. It’s unexpected, and it shakes me to my core.
The waiter arrives, a silent specter ready to tend to our every need. “A bottle of your finest champagne, please,” I tell him. It’s an indulgence, an extravagance I’ve earned but rarely savor. Tonight feels different. Special.
“Champagne?” Emily’s eyebrow arches playfully, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What are we celebrating?”
I hesitate, the words lingering on the edge of my tongue. In the vast expanse of my mind, memories and possibilities swirl — a dance of what was and what could be. Dad would have liked her, I think. Her spirit, her resilience. It’s a thought that brings both sorrow and solace.
“The promises of the future,” I reply finally, my voice steady despite the emotions churning within. The cork pops, and the waiter fills our flutes with liquid gold, bubbles racing to escape their crystal confines.
“To the future,” she echoes, lifting her glass.
Our eyes meet, and in hers, I see more than just reflection — I see depth, understanding, and a willingness to embark on this journey with me.
We toast, the chime of our glasses a fragile symphony, marking the beginning of something new. As the champagne fizzes on my tongue, I realize that this moment, simple as it may be, is a turning point. A pivot from the path of solitude I’ve walked for so long.
“Isaac,” she says, her voice a tender melody that pulls at my heartstrings, “whatever the future holds, I’m glad to have met you… and Baxter.”
“Me too.” And I mean it. With her, the loneliness that has cloaked my existence seems to fade, chased away by her light, her laughter, her sheer vitality.
Emily sips from her glass, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re different,” she remarks. Her tone is contemplative, but not judgmental.
“Different?” I repeat. Is it that obvious?
“In a good way,” she reassures quickly, catching my hesitation. “You’re reserved but kind… A gentle soul.”
A gentle soul. The words resonate within me. It’s not something I can remember ever being called. I dwell on them, mulling over the implications. Perhaps she sees beyond the calculated facade I present to the outside world.
“I’ve always been a bit of a loner,” I confess, hearing the vulnerability in my own admission. The night wraps us in secrecy, the dim candlelight flickering across our private space.
Emily listens intently, her eyes inviting me to continue. Never have I felt so seen, so appreciated for who I am beneath all my layers. It feels… honest.
“Do you ever get lonely?” she asks, her voice as soft as the breeze outside.
Often . “Sometimes,” I answer. But tonight, loneliness feels likes a stranger.
“Me too.” Her lashes flutter as she looks to the side. “I usually manage to ignore it by staying busy, though.”
“Same,” I chuckle.
Her smile lights up the room. “But you have so much to show for it. You’re running an entire company.”
“My father built it.”
“And you’re continuing it,” she presses, not allowing me to be hard on myself. “Me? I don’t really have anything to show.”
I gape at her. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah, I?—”
“How many dogs have you helped? How many shelter dogs have you trained so that they could be placed in homes?”
She shrugs, sheepish, but there’s pride in her face. A blush on her cheeks. “I’m not sure.”
“Just take an educated guess. I’m genuinely curious.”
Her gaze drops to the tablecloth, her fingers tracing the dainty floral pattern embroidered across pale linen. A pause. “Probably a few hundred.”
“A few hundred,” I echo, my astonishment palpable. From where I’m sitting, Emily seems nothing short of remarkable.
“Not every story ends happily,” she admits, her soft-spoken voice barely carrying over the clink of silverware and the low hum of conversations.
“But you’ve given them a chance, Emily. Don’t sell yourself short.” I mean every word.
We fall silent again, both lost in our respective reveries.
“Speaking of dogs…” I clear my head and lean forward. “I’ve been thinking.”
She tilts her head, her eyes reflecting the soft light that dances around us, casting shadows that play with the contours of her face. “About?”
“Fundraisers,” I say, watching her reaction closely. “For the shelter. And I want to involve my marketing team to work with you. At no cost to the shelter, of course.” The words hang in the air, a gift offered with open palms.
Her eyebrows knit together slightly, as if she’s preparing to push back, to argue that it’s too much. But then, something shifts in her gaze. A tear escapes, tracing a path down her cheek, and her hand covers her mouth. My heart clenches at the sight, at the raw emotion that spills forth despite her usual composure.
“Isaac, that’s… incredible.” Her voice trembles, each word wrapped in layers of gratitude. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means.”
I lean forward, offering a napkin to catch the rogue tear. “I think I do,” I say quietly. “And it’s my pleasure, really. I want to help.”
There’s a pause as we sit, surrounded by murmurs of other patrons and the clinking of cutlery against fine china. I feel the weight of my past choices, of the man I used to be — one who would never have considered such an offer without looking for something in return.
But that man is fading, his edges blurring into the background as I embrace the person I’m becoming. Good things are happening. I’m a decent dog owner now, Baxter’s loyalty a testament to that. I’m useful to Emily, not just a passing interest but someone who contributes to her passion. And the company, my legacy, is secure with Baxter at my side — his presence a constant reminder of the responsibility I’ve shouldered.
It’s an ascent from the depths of grief, a climb toward a peak bathed in the warmth of companionship and purpose.
“We’ll discuss it more,” I promise. “But how about we order now?”
“Sounds good.” She peruses the menu. “Oh, I don’t know what to pick. Everything here looks amazing. What’s the best?”
“Let’s order the chef’s tasting menu,” I suggest. “A little bit of everything.” A metaphor for the new experiences I crave, shared at a table with Emily.
“Sounds perfect,” she agrees, her smile returning, lighting up the space between us.
The waiter takes our order, and I watch Emily, her elegance matched only by the kindness that radiates from her. She catches me staring and blushes, a rose blooming in winter.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, the question simple yet loaded at the same time.
“Many things,” I admit, my hands clasped on the table. “But mostly, how good life feels right now.”
We talk more, about small things, about nothing and everything. And as the plates arrive, one after another, I savor the flavors, the textures, the way Emily’s eyes light up with each new taste. It’s a symphony of senses, of moments collected like precious stones.
I want to kiss her, to seal this evening with the intimacy of touch. But I resist the urge, holding back with a willpower I didn’t know I possessed. Slow, Isaac. Let this unfold like the petals of a flower, each layer revealing more beauty than the last.
Because this, right here, is new territory. A landscape painted with the hues of patience and anticipation. A place where the rush of past conquests has no power, where the thrill of the chase has been replaced by the depth of discovery.
“I hope this is just the beginning of many evenings like this,” I say, as the last course is cleared, not even meaning for the words to escape my lips.
“Me too,” she responds, her voice a whisper.
The check comes, and I settle it swiftly, eager to continue our evening beyond the confines of the restaurant. We rise, and I offer her my arm, which to my relief she accepts.
Outside, the valet brings the car around and opens the door for Emily. While I look forward to the drive together, my heart sinks a little bit at the thought of dropping her off at her apartment and ending the night.
“Thank you, Isaac. For dinner, for the shelter, for… everything,” she says as I drive away from the restaurant.
“It’s the least I can do.”
She laughs. “No, you don’t have to do anything.”
I glance at her. “I like you, Emily.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she ducks her face as she bites into her bottom lip. It takes all my willpower to tear my gaze away from her mouth and focus on the road instead.
At her apartment, I hurry out of the car and go around to open the door for her. Our eyes meet, sharing silent longings and unspoken attraction. There’s a part of me that wants to rush ahead, to claim this feeling, to brand it as mine forever.
But I won’t. Because this time, it’s about savoring every second, letting the story write itself at its own pace. So, instead, I walk her to her front door then take a step back.
“Good night, Emily,” I murmur.
“Good night,” she replies softly. She opens the door and slips inside, a lovely shadow vanishing from view.
But it’s only temporary. Tomorrow is already on its way, and along with it a multitude of good things. I can feel it deep within my soul, the promise as guaranteed as the rising sun.