21. Isaac
CHAPTER 21
ISAAC
M y feet press against the rugged trail, Baxter bounding ahead on his extending leash, his coat glistening with droplets from the creek we just crossed — or, for Baxter, plunged through. Emily’s laughter floats on the breeze, her joy as clear and pure as the mountain air around us. It’s a perfect day, a moment suspended in time where the stresses of my world seem to lift.
“Look at him go,” Emily says, her eyes tracking Baxter’s every leap and splash. She’s right beside me, close enough that I can catch the scent of her shampoo.
“He’s having the time of his life,” I reply, my voice more relaxed than it has been in years. Watching the golden retriever frolic makes me wonder when was the last time I allowed myself such unbridled happiness.
We climb higher, the path narrowing as it winds its way up the small mountain. The incline is steep, but it’s nothing compared to the corporate ladder I’ve been scaling my whole life. Here, though, with Emily and Baxter, the ascent feels different — invigorating rather than exhausting.
“Almost there,” I encourage, reaching out a hand to help Emily over a particularly gnarled root. Her fingers brush mine, sending an unexpected jolt through me, one that I welcome and crave more of.
We crest the peak, and the view unfolds before us, a tapestry of nature untouched by skyscrapers or boardroom politics. We settle down on a patch of soft grass, and Baxter, finally tiring, curls up beside us and lets out a big, happy sigh.
Emily and I find a rock next to him, a large and smooth one that’s probably seated thousands of people over the course of humanity.
“Wow, Isaac,” Emily beams, gesturing to the sprawling vista. “It’s breathtaking.”
“Nothing beats the view from the top,” I say, though I’m not really talking about the mountain. From where I sit, I see not only the vastness of the valley but also the potential in the days stretching out before me.
“Speaking of the top.” She shifts her gaze from the scenery to me. “I saw the flyers your team designed; they’re incredible.”
“Thanks. They’re doing their best to get the word out.” I pause, considering how much to share. I’m proud to be helping with the shelter’s dog-wash fundraiser, but I don’t want to gloat. Then again, I want her to know that there is some real money on the way. “Actually, a few of my friends have already pledged donations. Sizeable ones.”
And I will, of course, be writing my own sizeable check. Mentioning that, though, really does feel too much like gloating.
“Really?” Her surprise is genuine, and I feel a warmth in her gratitude. “That’s amazing. God knows the shelter could use every penny.”
“Let’s just say, the day of the wash, they might be in for a bit of a surprise,” I hint, concealing the full extent of my planned contribution. For once, it feels good to hold back details, knowing the reveal will bring a smile to her face.
Emily beams at me, and I can’t help but reflect it back at her. “You’re incredible, you know that? You’ve done so much for us already.”
“Anything for a good cause,” I say, but there’s more truth in those words than I care to examine right now. Because this cause — her cause — has become mine, too.
Baxter stirs then, chasing something in his dreams. The sight of him, so content and carefree, reminds me of why I’m here, atop a mountain with a woman who’s turned my life upside down in the best possible way.
“Hey,” Emily says softly, drawing my attention back to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this… content. It suits you.”
“Maybe I’m starting to realize there’s more to life than work and deadlines,” I admit, allowing myself to lean into the vulnerability she always seems to draw out of me. It’s a strange feeling, laying bare parts of myself I’ve kept hidden for so long.
“Good,” she says. “Because the man I see now, he deserves to smile. Every day.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so instead I just sit here and soak in the kindness. Maybe she’s right, though smiling and enjoying each day has never been a priority to me. It’s always been about proving myself — to my father, to my colleagues, to clients, to the world. I’m growing tired of that, though.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I murmur, not just about the view but everything — this moment of serenity, the woman by my side, the dog that’s somehow become part of my soul.
“Absolutely,” she agrees, her voice soft like the breeze whispering through the leaves around us. “Have you hiked much?”
“No… We weren’t an outdoorsy family.” I smirk. “My father was usually working when I was a kid, and I spent a lot of time with my nanny. She took me to sports practices… tutoring… watched me and my friends swim in the pool at the house.”
“Oh.”
I glance at her, and it seems she’s trying to hide something in her face. “What?”
“It sounds… good.”
“It’s okay. You can say it. It sucks that my dad didn’t spend more time with me. He was always… distant.” The admission hits a nerve, as if saying it aloud gives the pain form and shape. “Work came first. Always. I guess that’s where I learned it from.”
She nods, just watching me. Her silence is an invitation to continue, to spill secrets I’ve held on to for too long.
“I tried to get his attention,” I confess. “I worked hard, pushed myself. I thought if the company thrived, he’d… see me.”
“Did he?” she asks, the question simple yet loaded with expectation and hope.
“Rarely,” I say, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Even to the end, he needed proof I could handle it all. That’s why he left me Baxter.” I gesture toward our sleeping dog. “Dad knew I wanted the company. But he made me earn it, even in death.”
“Isaac…” Emily’s hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with mine in a grip that steadies me.
“Truth is,” I continue, feeling the dam inside me crumble, “I resented him for it. For making it so damn hard when all I wanted was his approval.”
“Yet, you did it. You proved him wrong,” she says, her thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
“Proved him right, more like. I hung onto Baxter.” My voice cracks a bit. “But it wasn’t because of the company. It was at first, but then… not anymore.”
“Because of?”
“Because of you.” I turn to face her more fully. “You showed me what it means to care for something beyond my image and name. You taught me how to love this dog.”
“Isaac, I—” she starts, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Emily.” I squeeze her hand, needing her to understand. “I’m not just keeping Baxter so I can hang onto the company. I love that dog. And it’s thanks to you.”
She studies my face, searching for the truth in my words. I hold her gaze, laying bare the honesty of my emotions. Slowly, a smile blooms on her lips, a silent acknowledgment that she believes me.
“Okay,” she breathes, and relief washes over me like the gentle lap of waves against the shore.
“Your father,” she begins, her voice gentle yet hesitant, and I can tell she’s about to say something she thinks I might not like. “Maybe he did you a favor without realizing it. These past weeks, they’ve been different for you, haven’t they?”
I nod, the weight of her observation heavy in my chest. “Different,” I echo. “Sure.”
“Seeing you now, it’s like watching someone come up for air after being underwater too long.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a small, unconscious gesture. “You smile more. There’s this lightness about you.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, letting myself think about that. My gaze drifts over the valley below. “I didn’t know how much I needed… space. A new approach to life. Not until you showed me.”
“Sometimes,” she says, scooting closer until our shoulders touch, “we don’t see how tangled we are in something until we step back.”
“Like seeing the forest for the trees,” I murmur. It’s true. Away from the relentless demands of work life, I can breathe. I can think. And I can feel — more than I ever allowed myself before.
“Exactly.” She smiles. “This whole ordeal with Baxter, your father… Maybe it was his way of pushing you to find balance.”
It’s a concept so foreign to my previous life that it seems almost laughable. And yet, here I am, perched on a mountaintop, feeling more grounded than ever.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when two people understand each other without needing words. Baxter shifts in his sleep, his paws twitching. His presence is a reminder of the journey I’ve embarked on — the journey towards something real and fulfilling.
“Emily,” I say, my voice barely above a murmur. My heart beats a rapid tattoo against my rib cage, nerves suddenly alight with the intensity of the moment. “You’re always on my mind. Every moment, every decision… it’s all different now because of you.”
“Really?” She turns to face me, her expression open and vulnerable.
“Everything that’s happening between us, I love it. I love…” The words hang in the air, a confession laid bare under the vast expanse of the sky. These feelings are still blooming, but even though I’m sure of how I feel, it’s too soon to take that step — to admit to the both of us that I’ve passed the point of no return.
“Me too,” she says softly, her breath warm against my skin. And then she leans in, closing the distance between us until our lips meet.
Our kiss deepens, a mingling of breath and warmth that ignites something fierce within me. This isn’t just physical; it’s a connection that transcends the barriers I’ve built around my heart. Emily is the catalyst, the one who sees beyond the layers of the billionaire facade, to the man who yearns for something more.
Her hands cradle my face, fingers gentle yet insistent, pulling me closer as if she too can’t bear the thought of distance between us. I respond in kind, my own hands finding their way to her waist, drawing her into the circle of my embrace.
In this kiss, there’s healing. In this kiss, there’s understanding. And in this kiss, there’s a silent vow that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we’ll face them together. Because for the first time in my life, I’m not alone. I have Emily — and with her, I have everything.
Slowly, reluctantly, we part, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Baxter stirs, lifting his head to look at us with sleepy confusion before laying it back down with a quiet huff.
“See?” Emily says with a soft chuckle. “Even Baxter approves.”
I can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from a place of pure joy. “He’s got good taste.”
“Must be why he likes you ,” she teases, and I feel the last remnants of my old self — the guarded, driven businessman — slip away like shadows at dawn.
“Must be,” I agree, and as we sit on this mountaintop, I know that I wouldn’t change a single thing. Not the struggles, not the pain, and certainly not the hoops my father made me jump through.
Because they led me here. To this moment. To her.