Chapter 5
Chapter five
I’m going to pass out if I don’t take a full breath soon. But there’s too much of her embedded in my skin. Orange. Rose. Temptation.
It was bad enough that I spent hours with my skin pressed against hers last night, but then there was the incident on the plane. I don’t know how it happened.
She was quiet when we all met in the hallway this morning. We all were. She perked up a little when we stopped at the coffee shop before heading to the airport, nursing her ginger tea like it was a lifeline. But she didn’t mention anything about our little sleepover.
Beth raced to the bathroom as soon as the plane was in the air, with Isabelle trailing behind her to help. They came back only for Beth to fall asleep in her seat, and I’m certain her snoring was the cause of the turbulence we kept hitting. Those sounds were disrupting the Earth’s rotation.
Caleb was quiet, and Isabelle was curled up in the giant seats, so I snuck off to the bed cabin.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling for close to an hour before the door slowly pulled open.
Isabelle stood there, maybe expecting me to be asleep.
A yellow sweatshirt hung loosely over her, and tan leggings covered her toned thighs.
She looked all soft and cosy as she apologised and explained she’d left her handbag in the bathroom when she was in there with Beth earlier.
“That’s okay, I’m not sleeping.”
She nods, then looks down as she dashes into the bathroom, returning with a little bag.
“Are you feeling better?” I whisper.
She tips her head from side to side, contemplating. “I don’t feel sick, but I also don’t want to move, if that makes sense.” She huffs out a little laugh.
“Do you want to lie down?”
“Oh, I’m okay in my seat. It reclines.” She fiddles with her purse, running the zip open and closed.
“I don’t mind.” An interesting new development.
Isabelle bites her lip, looking back into the main body of the plane, right as another one of Beth’s snores pierces the air. She winces back at me and then slides the door closed, locking us in the bed cabin.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Of course.”
She nods and walks around the bed, dropping her purse on the side table and then stretching out alongside me. She faces me on her side, knees tucked into her stomach, and hands folded under her cheek. I turn, mirroring her position.
“Thanks for everything you did on Smoke and Barrel.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiles.
“And thanks for travelling with us to help pitch it.”
“I was a bit nervous.”
My brows pinch. “You? Nervous?”
“I know. I’m not normally like that, but—”
She leaves the sentence hanging in the air. “But?”
“It was the High Rollers.”
“Yeah. I guess they’ve got an intimidating reputation.” Or an illegal one, depending on whether you believe the rumours. “You did really well, though.”
Isabelle smiles. “Thank you. I actually love getting to talk about design and bringing an idea together.” Her blue eyes light up just talking about it.
“Does that apply to everything you do in life?”
“What do you mean?”
“You make everything seem as though it’s so…” I shrug, trying to think of the right word. “Exciting.”
“I love to learn. It’s always fun to discover new things. I guess that’s the beauty in life. Excitement in the unexpected.”
When she closes her eyes and lets out a yawn, I study her. Those pretty golden curls, secured on top of her head with a white scrunchie. The little gold hoops along the top of her ear and a mini heart stud tucked into the antihelix.
She hums and keeps her eyes closed, while I just continue to watch her.
She’s right. Life is unexpected, but she’s not scared of it. She thinks it’s beautiful. I wonder how much ugliness she’s seen? Because from what I have, I’m terrified.
It was nearly two hours later when I woke up and found that not only had I fallen asleep and once again not woken from a nightmare, but we had shifted in our sleep. I was on my back, Isabelle tucked against my side, her head on my chest, and her hand resting on my stomach. And I didn’t hate it.
For ten years, any company I’ve kept with a woman has never included sleepovers.
I haven’t even had a woman in my bed. If I hook up with someone, it’s only ever at Nella Notte.
The members-only club I’m a part of that no one knows about.
Well, Caleb might have an inkling, but it’s not something he’s asked for confirmation of.
For the second time in twelve hours, I was sneaking away from Isabelle with her scent imprinted on me like a brand, and thoughts of her haunting my mind. She’s stayed there since we landed, even as we made our way straight to Grams and Grandpa’s house for our normal Sunday dinner.
My mother places a glass of fizzing water in front of Caleb, while Beth groans with her head resting against the table we’re all seated around.
“Make it stop, Mummy,” she wails.
“Jesus, how much did you drink?” Mason, my baby brother, asks from where he sits between me and our sister. “You smell like the plague, by the way.”
“I will gut—” Beth starts before burping something that sounds like it’s been conjured from the depths of hell. Wow, I never realised what a catch my sister is.
She covers her mouth and runs down the hall.
“Did you let your sister overindulge?” Dad asks Caleb.
“Let her? There is no let when it comes to Beth,” says Caleb. And I definitely have to agree with that.
My sister is a tiny tyrant, but she’s also the best fucking sister you could ask for.
She gives as good as she gets, and she loves even harder.
If you manage to get past her walls, you’re stuck with her for life, and she’ll always have your back.
Cross her, though, and you won’t find yourself with a worse enemy.
“I hope you’re all hungry.” Grams walks into the dining room with a giant platter of roast vegetables, and Grandpa dutifully follows with a tray of carved meat.
The thought of eating anything turns my stomach, but I’d never have the balls to say no to Grams.
Beth gets her unstoppable spirit from our grandmother.
They’re both fiercely determined and ambitious.
My sister has always looked up to our grandmother, especially the love she shares with Grandpa.
The way they’ve always supported each other laid the foundation for why our family is so close.
I was never more grateful for that than after the accident. When I lost my best friend.
“Looks and smells delicious. Thank you, Grams.” Mason rubs his stomach as he looks over all the food. Grams drops a kiss to the top of his head as she walks behind us, then runs a hand over my head.
“Dig in, my sweetness. A growing boy needs a good home-cooked meal.”
Mason takes his cue and starts loading up his plate, followed by my parents and Grandpa. Caleb just stares at the dishes with a white face and unfocused eyes.
“Gage, sweetheart.” Grams places her warm hand over mine. Her charm bracelet clatters against the table, and the sound is like an alarm blaring in my head. Fuck, I am never drinking like that again. Stupid High Rollers. “Can I do up your plate?”
“Sure. Thanks, Grams.” I hand her my plate, almost second-guessing the decision, but eventually let her take it from me.
I feel bile rise in my throat as my grandmother continues to pile on more and more food. Any other Sunday, I’d be all for it. I love my grandmother’s cooking, but as she sets the plate in front of me, I think I might need to disappoint her today.
“I think I threw up a kidney,” Beth says, finally rejoining us.
“Elizabeth.” Mum tuts, shaking her head as she cuts into her dinner.
“Karma,” I say through a fake cough, hiding my smile at my mother using Beth’s full name.
“So, Henry.” Brat. “How was your night?”
“The same as yours, I’d imagine.” I pick up my fork and push the food around on my plate. “And stop fucking calling me that.”
“Get much sleep?” There’s a taunt hiding in her tone, and I don’t fucking trust it.
“My sleep was fine.”
“How about on the plane?” My fork drops, clanging against the china, and I stare at my sister. What does she know? Did she see something? Did Isabelle say something?
She shrugs and picks up a bread roll, pulling it apart with a promise of violence. “You seemed very comfortable with Isabelle. Far more so than the flight over.”
“Who’s Isabelle?” Mum asks, and there’s far too much curiosity in that question.
“Oh my god, it’s happening!” Grams jumps from her seat, then sits back down, picking up her wine glass and waiting for my sister to piss me off further.
“Nothing’s happening,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I think this photo begs to differ.” I can feel my soul leave my body. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“A photo?” Mum asks, leaning into Beth as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. Shit, what do I do? How do I explain this? Fucking think, you dickhead!
“Aww!” Mum has her hands clasped over her heart, while Grams looks ready to do cartwheels.
Caleb quickly stands from his chair, snatching my sister’s phone from her open palm. His glasses rest crooked across his face as he stares down at whatever incriminating evidence Beth has gathered. He looks up at me, a single eyebrow raised in question. Oh shit.
“We didn’t do anything!” I yell.
“That doesn’t look like nothing,” Beth says matter-of-factly.
With a mouth full of food, Mason leans over Caleb, chewing in my brother’s ear. “I thought you said she wasn’t hot?”
That does it.
Silverware rattles as I dive over the table to take the phone from Caleb.
When I take in the photo, I see it’s from the plane.
I don’t know why I was expecting to see us caught at the club.
Maybe I assumed those moments afterwards–the hotel, the plane–were somehow protected.
No one else was around, they were our little secret to hold.
Or a complete figment of my imagination since they felt too good to be true.
As I stare down at the photo of Isabelle snuggled against me, our hands almost touching where they both rest on my stomach, for some unknown reason, I send it to myself.
“This is on the plane?” I say slowly.
“Yes, brother. Why? Was there somewhere else we may have seen you sleeping with Isabelle this weekend?”
It feels like my head is in a pressure cooker.
All eyes are on me. I can’t take this. I need the attention gone.
What the fuck do I say? My eyes dart around the table.
Dad and Grandpa have identical expectant stares.
Mason is obnoxiously chewing. Caleb’s still raising an eyebrow at me, and it feels like my guilt is reflected in the lenses of his glasses, and suddenly, I remember something.
The redhead from the bar. Sorry, brother.
“Caleb likes a girl!”
My brother’s jaw drops, and I feel just a little bit of guilt for throwing him under the bus just to get the attention off me.
“How dare you!” Caleb’s pulling rank as he scolds me from across the table, while hysteria explodes around us.
“A girl? What is he talking about?”
“Isabelle was right!”
“Who is this Isabelle chick?”
“What’s her name? Where did you meet her?”
“After all I’ve done for you. This is how you repay me.” Caleb shakes his head, a deep grimace pulling at his lips—like some mediocre Don Corleone impression—and I sink into my chair.
I’m not ready to answer questions about Isabelle. I could have gotten away with denying anything to myself if it weren’t for that damn photo Beth took. Now, the evidence is there for everyone to see.
There’s something between Isabelle and me, whether I like it or not.