Chapter 6
Chapter Six
ISABELLE
“Ican’t believe you handmade these. They’re all gorgeous,” my latest visitor at my booth says, beaming as she picks out a yellow floral top. “I’d love to buy this one for my daughter.”
The blissful feeling of acquiring a new customer envelops my body, like tasting the first scoop of ice cream on a hot summer day. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”
I recently registered to run a booth on Saturdays at Brooklyn Flea for the next few weeks. I’ve done it before and had so much fun—interacting with visitors (even for my introverted self), all while enjoying great city views and the backdrop of the Manhattan Bridge.
“You’re welcome.” She takes out her card to pay. “Your mother must be proud of you.”
A tight knot forms in my stomach.
“I guess,” I say, faking a smile. It’s easier than explaining that my mom would rather see me working inside a law firm. “Have a great day.”
“You too,” she says before heading off.
Jen, who’s been working on the other side of my booth, walks over. “We sold another two of the pink dresses.”
“You’re amazing,” I say.
“I know.” She smooths her hair and glances around. There aren’t any new customers right now. “Okay … thoughts on the upcoming high school reunion?”
I ponder on the question. “I mean, it would be nice to see our cohort, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face Oliver again.”
Oliver would show up at the reunion, no doubt. He loves large gatherings and any opportunity to be the center of attention.
I’ve always wondered what would happen if I ran into him again one day. Would he apologize and give me closure as to why he ended things? Would I dramatically throw wine in his face? Or would I simply act like he was nothing more than someone I used to know?
“You want to know what I think? You should show up to the event like the queen you are and show his ugly ass what he’s missing out on,” Jen says.
“Like, you started your own business at twenty-two. You’re hardworking, passionate, and one of the most beautiful souls I know.
And what is he? A bullet you dodged and the trash taking itself out. ”
Her words ignite a flame within me, which grows bigger and bigger, burning out my apprehension from only moments ago.
She’s absolutely right.
“I’m not the one who ended a six-year relationship with someone over text and ghosted them!” I exclaim, slamming the table at my booth. “If anything, he should be the one who feels bad about seeing me again, not the other way around!”
“Exactly!”
“I’m going to attend the reunion and show him what he let go of!” I vow and start pacing up and down my booth like a woman on a mission.
“That’s the spirit!” Jen clasps her hands together. “Wait, I have an idea. You should bring a plus-one.”
I stop in my tracks. “You mean, like a date?”
“I mean, a fake boyfriend.”
My mind starts buzzing. Showing up with a fake boyfriend isn’t a bad idea, even if it’d involve a little pretending and deceiving. I’d be lying if I said the prospect of showing Oliver that I’d moved on with someone else wasn’t appealing.
But where does one find a fake boyfriend?
“It’s tempting, but I don’t have anyone I can ask,” I admit. “And you can’t exactly buy a fake boyfriend online or find someone random off the streets.”
“Who says you can’t?” Jen says before turning to the guy at the booth next to ours, who’s selling vintage items. “Hey! Guy with the glasses and blue shirt!”
Said guy turns around to face us. He’s cute—dark hair and blue eyes—and he reminds me of Clark Kent. “Yeah?”
Jen smiles at him and gestures to me. “Are you available to be her fake boyfriend for one night?”
Clark Kent look-alike frowns. “What’s in it for me?”
“Um … free food at a high school reunion?” Jen suggests.
He cocks a brow. “A high school reunion? I’ll save myself the drama, thanks.”
“Who says there has to be drama?” Jen says, crossing her arms. “We’re all a lovely bunch of people. Well, most of us, that is.”
He shrugs. “Sorry, ladies. I’ll pass.”
At least he’s being honest. On to the next stranger, I suppose.
“It was worth a try,” Jen says, turning back to me. “On a separate note, I have a feeling Aaron will be at the reunion.”
I haven’t forgotten about Jen’s crush on Aaron during our school years. Unlike Jackson, Aaron actually has a great personality.
“You don’t have to wait for a high school reunion to see him again,” I say. “You could slide into his DMs right now. I believe he’s still single.”
Jen pulls a face. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Just go for it, like how you called out the glasses guy just then,” I tease.
“That was different because he’s just a stranger.” Jen sighs. “Anyway, I’m going to buy some lunch. Do you want anything?”
“Yes, please,” I say, grinning. “I’m starving.”
“Grilled fish tacos?”
“Even bigger yes!”
As Jen walks off, I tidy things up at my booth and check the dresses on my clothes rack. The sun shines brightly above me as I work, the crisp smells of pizza and hot dogs drifting in the air.
A sudden giggling voice emanates from nearby, and a brunette girl in a yellow dress, who looks eight or nine years old, approaches me.
“Hey there.” I smile at her. “Are you with anyone?”
“I’m with my uncle, but I ran off because your booth is too pretty,” she says. She eyes me up and down. “You’re pretty, too. Are you a fashion designer?”
My heart’s bursting. “Aw, thank you. You’re beautiful, too. And, yes, I’m a fashion designer.”
She beams. “I want to be a fashion designer when I grow up, too!”
“Well, you have a fabulous sense of style,” I say. “I love your dress.”
A rosy-pink blush fills her cheeks. “I bought it with my mommy when we went shopping.” She pauses. “My mommy says if I work hard, I can achieve my dreams. Is that true?”
I squat so that we’re at the same level.
“Yes. Think of it like planting the seeds of a tree or flower in a garden. We set the foundation, water it, and give it space to grow. Some seeds may take longer than others to sprout, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.
Trust that it will eventually blossom into something beautiful, and don’t compare your flower with the other flowers in the garden. I believe in you.”
Those words feel like a much-needed reminder to myself, too.
She grins. “I believe in me, too.”
“What’s your name? I’m Isabelle.”
“Annalise.” She plays with the ends of her braid. “But I like to be called Anna, like Anna from Frozen!”
“Annalise, there you are.”
The velvety, smooth voice of the newcomer from behind wraps around me like silk, and I feel his presence before I can turn around and confirm he’s there.
“Uncle Jace!” Anna exclaims, her brown eyes sparkling.
Slowly, I stand and turn around, coming face-to-face with “Uncle Jace,” who is indeed none other than Jackson Carter.
I scan him from head to toe, my traitorous eyeballs eagerly taking in every inch of him.
He’s wearing a white cotton T-shirt, which hugs his body in all the right places, accentuating his muscular frame underneath, and his long legs are clad in light-blue jeans.
His brown hair looks tousled in an effortless I just woke up and look this good kind of way.
I tell myself not to think about how it’d feel if I ran my fingers through it.
This is the first time I’ve seen him in casual attire since we were teenagers, and … he looks good. And that’s an understatement.
Meanwhile, after spending the morning running around my booth in hot, humid weather, I look like a sweaty and overcooked potato. Again, completely unfair.
He probably looks even better with his shirt off.
The taunting voice in my head is coupled with an image of what Jackson might look like sans shirt and—
What the hell are you thinking, Isabelle? Ogling Jackson is the number one thing we’re not going to do.
“Maybe I should start billing you a fee if you’re going to keep staring like that.”
I snap out of my trance and fold my arms. “Get over yourself.”
“Sorry for running off, Uncle Jace.” Anna grins sheepishly at Jackson. “Isabelle’s booth is too pretty.”
“That’s okay, Annalise, but next time, tell me first, and we can go together,” Jackson says to her. There’s a tenderness on his face I’ve never seen before as he speaks to his niece.
“I didn’t know you had a niece,” I find myself saying.
“Well, I’m Annalise’s favorite uncle.” Indifference lingers in Jackson’s tone as he flips his attention back to me.
“You mean you’re my only uncle,” Anna says, placing her hands on her hips. “And it’s Anna, not Annalise.”
I almost choke on my laughter. Watching Jackson get roasted by his niece might be the best thing I’ve seen all week. “Guess you don’t know your niece well enough.”
Jackson flashes me a smile, the same one he used to fool people into voting for him for student council president back in school. “You know, you seem to really find pleasure in analyzing my life, Isabella.”
I return the smile. “Pleasure and Jackson Carter don’t go together in one sentence.”
A muscle in his jaw pulses.
Isabelle—one. Jackson—zero.
“You know each other?” Anna pipes up.
“We went to school together,” Jackson says.
There’s a sparkle in Anna’s eyes. “Does that mean you’re friends?”
No, Anna. Your uncle and I were the personification of two great white sharks going at each other.
“We were such good friends,” I say. “We did speech and debate together, and I always loved trying to beat him.”
Jackson turns to me, a taunting glint illuminating his brown eyes. “Isabella was my favorite opponent.”
My mouth twitches. “I could say the same about Jackson. He was always incredibly humble and easygoing. In fact, he never cared about winning.”
Jackson turns to Anna. “Anna, Isabella was one of the most organized people I knew. She was always on time for everything.”
“Anna, you should’ve seen that time I beat your uncle Jace in one of our speech tournaments,” I say as Anna’s gaze falls on me. “The look on his face was absolute gold.”
“Yeah, that was pretty memorable,” Jackson says as Anna turns her attention to him again, like she’s watching a tennis match between Jackson and me. “Although not as memorable as when Isabella tripped over her feet on her way up the stage to collect her award.”
My jaw drops. Jackass.
Though am I surprised that Jackson remembers me tripping and falling? Probably not.
“I was telling Isabelle I want to be a fashion designer, too, when I grow up!” Anna says to Jackson. “Maybe she can teach me.”
“That’s great.” Jackson’s expression softens as he faces her. “But we should get going now.”
Anna pouts. “I want to buy something here first.”
“How about we check out some of the other booths, Anna?” Jackson suggests. “There are plenty of others here.”
Boo-hoo.
Anna purses her lips. “You’re no fun, Uncle Jace. You promised me you’d buy me anything I wanted today. And you talk about sticking to your promises, but you’re not doing that yourself.”
Another laugh threatens to spill out of me. I’d listen to a whole podcast of Anna roasting Jackson any day.
“You’re not setting a very good example for your niece, are you, Uncle Jace?” I add.
Jackson tosses me a glare before sighing in defeat. “All right, Anna, why don’t you buy what you want here, and I’ll pay?”
“Yay!” Anna’s face lights up, and she turns to me with a look that could make flowers grow.
A wide grin forms on my face as I lift my hand to offer her a high five. Anna stands on her tiptoes, pressing her small palm against mine.
Jackson watches the interaction, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.
Anna walks around my booth, her eyes darting around in excitement. I don’t have any clothes in kid sizes, but that doesn’t stop Anna from inspecting everything that’s set up before diving to the accessories section.
“I want this one,” she gushes, grabbing one of my handmade black polka-dot scrunchies and handing it to Jackson. She reaches for the same scrunchie but in purple. “And this color, too!” Then she picks up one of my white canvas tote bags. “And this as well!”
Ten minutes later, Anna’s proudly smiling, Jackson’s holding a stack of items in his hands, and I think I’ll be ready to close my booth and call it a day after this.
“Are you sure you want to buy all of that, Anna?” Jackson asks.
I glare at him, resisting the urge to give him the middle finger in front of Anna.
Anna flashes Jackson a toothy grin. “You said you’ll pay for it, so yes.”
Anna—one. Jackson—zero.
I laugh. “Thanks so much for your support, Anna. How about your uncle can put the items on the table and I’ll pack them in the tote bag for you?”
Anna beams. “Yes, please!”
I turn to Jackson, who slowly steps toward me. Instead of placing everything on the table though, he reaches his hands out to me, waiting for me to grab the items from him.
Of course, he refuses to do what I say just to spite me.
I take the items, my fingers involuntarily brushing against his palms. The last thing I expect is this strange, tingly feeling, which permeates through me, lighting up every cell in my body.
Or for it to linger. Or for Jackson’s gaze to lock with mine, his brown eyes intensifying, as if he felt it, too.
Quickly breaking eye contact, I bring the items to the table, packing them up and processing the transaction before Jackson pays. What happened is probably just the humidity and heat getting to me. Nothing more.
“I’m back!”
It’s Jen, who’s returned with two paper bags. Her eyes widen when she sees Jackson. “Jackson? Jackson Carter?”
Jackson offers her a warm smile. “Hey, Jen. Nice to see you again.”
Of course, he’s capable of acting friendly to anyone other than me.
Without acknowledging me, Jackson turns to Anna. “Let’s go, Anna.”
Anna waves at me. “Bye, Isabelle!”
“Bye, Anna!” I wave back. “It was lovely meeting you, and I hope you enjoy the goodies.”
Jen nudges me on the shoulder once Jackson and Anna are out of sight. “So, what did I miss?”
I sigh. “Just Jackson being Jackson.”