Chapter 11
James
The Monday morning staff meeting is about to start, and there's no sign of Isabelle.
Anxiety claws at my insides. I'm hoping she hasn't quit. Getting to know her over the past week has been wonderful. She’s a breath of fresh air that I’m not ready to say goodbye to just yet.
I stare down at my coffee, unable to take another sip.
The door swings open, and she comes strolling in laughing, Daniel close behind her, leading her with his hand on her lower back.
Her hair is up in a loose bun with soft tendrils cascading around her face.
Her pale blue blouse has the top three buttons open to showcase her collarbones, no doubt giving anyone taller a view of her cleavage.
Her look is finished with a pair of high-waisted, wide-legged, navy blue trousers and flat ballet pumps.
She looks timelessly stunning. Simple, smart, but giving off a vintage cinema icon look, the high waist trousers accentuating her curves and flaring beautifully around her soft, round ass.
Yes, Miss
Jesus.
I should not be looking at her like this; she’s far too young for me, and I should know better.
Self-loathing rolls through me. But after seeing her at the rugby match, I couldn't stop seeing her smile in my head all weekend.
Thinking of her curves and her laugh, I hadn't been able to stop picturing what she looked like underneath it all, imagining her soft, smooth skin beneath my fingertips, my face buried between her thighs, and what she might taste like as I stroked myself in the shower this morning.
Not so long ago, she was in school uniform and sat at my piano.
I give myself a mental slap as I bring myself back to the here and now.
As if anyone as gorgeous as her would ever give me a second look.
A surge of irritation shoots up inside of me , watching her with him.
She seems far too comfortable around Daniel.
I have no right to those feelings. She is her own woman; she can do what—or who—she wants. But I want it to be with me.
Daniel glances over as Isabelle laughs at one of his jokes, and he smirks at me. Isabelle sees me sitting at the central table in the staff room and comes to sit next to me.
“Morning, Isabelle. Did you have a good weekend?” I ask casually.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
Isabelle beams her big smile at me. “Oh, yes. It was
brilliant, thank you. I had Victoria round for the weekend, and we spent an evening at a club. You?”
“Not much, really. After the match—”
“Isabelle,” Daniel interrupts, leaning forward across the table “You should have said. I do love a night out. Maybe I’ll bump into you at the same club.”
Isabelle snorts into her coffee cup, desperately trying to hide a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
She doesn’t elaborate any further, and Daniel's attempts to dig deeper are mercifully cut short by Rebecca clapping her hands for everyone's attention.
I sit and listen to the weekly updates, watching as Isabelle absentmindedly chews on the top of her pen and takes notes.
I watch her smile at some of the jokes cracked by others and think how nice it would be to make her smile like that.
She had laughed at some of my jokes, but I wasn't sure if that was out of politeness or if she meant it.
I reach for the flask of coffee and top Isabelle’s cup up before refilling my own.
She turns, smiles, and mouths ‘thank you’ to me.
I’ve missed having someone to do things for.
Since the divorce, I hadn’t realised how much I missed these little things, doing acts of service that would please someone.
I miss being able to care for someone else.
Yes, Miss
The meeting ends, and we leave for our classes. As we walk across the grounds to our building, I decide to ask more about Isabelle’s weekend.
“So, what club was it you went to? Just so I know to avoid it. No doubt Daniel will make an appearance.” Not that I like clubbing. Maybe when I was Isabelle’s age, but not now.
Isabelle laughs and replies, “Well, it wasn't a nightclub. More of a… hobby club.”
Oh, maybe it was amateur dramatics or a choir. “What kind of hobby?”
Isabelle thinks for a few moments, the delay making it even more intriguing.
How hard is it to just say what hobby it was?