Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JACKSON
Ihold Isabelle closely, noting the way she fits perfectly in my arms.
She just woke up from a nightmare, and the only thing I want to do right now is make sure she feels safe.
“Since I was a little kid, I always loved drawing and playing dress-up,” she says. “It was back when Ivy and I were close. I’d throw a pretend fashion show, and I’d sketch random things all the time, anything that came to mind really.”
“So, that’s how the most talented person I know first discovered her passion,” I chime in.
Isabelle shifts her body and runs her fingertips along my biceps. “You’re going to distract me from my life story.”
“Sorry.” I let out a light chuckle. “Please continue.”
“In middle school, I started reading Sparkes Magazine, and I instantly fell in love with all the fashion designs I saw in the pages. Then I had my first textiles class, and it was … magical. I loved the process of creating and transforming a simple piece of fabric into something else. But I never thought of pursuing fashion design as a career. I thought sketching designs and creating could just be a fun hobby and being a lawyer was what I should aim to be because it was something my mom had always instilled in me.”
I move a strand of hair away from her face as she talks.
She blows a breath. “When it came to college applications one night, it just hit me that I didn’t want to be a lawyer, and I decided to apply to fashion school, which Jen also encouraged me to do.
My mom saw me working on my portfolio for my application and tried to talk me out of it, but I kept going.
We had a major argument because of that.
When I got my acceptance letter, I thought she’d finally accept I was chasing my dreams and be happy for me, but I guess the rest is history. ”
Her voice quiets when she says that last part, and I gently rub her arm.
“It’s a reflection on her, not you, that she can’t be happy for her own daughter.”
“I know.” Isabelle sighs. “I guess, deep down, she does care about me in her own way, but I think I’m finally done with trying to seek her validation. I’m just going to do whatever makes me happy.”
“Your happiness is the most important thing,” I say, proud of her. “Not what she or anyone else wants for you.”
She snuggles closer against my chest. “I owe you an explanation for the whole Oliver thing as well.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me an explanation for anything.”
“I want to tell you.”
“Okay,” I say. “If you’re ready to.”
She takes a deep breath. “Oliver broke up with me over text after six years without giving a reason and ghosted me afterward.”
Blood rushes to my ears. What the fuck? Six years, and that fuckhead ended it over a text?
“He’s a coward,” I say through gritted teeth.
“It was the reason why I wanted to bring a fake boyfriend to the reunion,” Isabelle explains. “I wanted to show him I’d moved on.”
I’m relieved my original theory about Isabelle having feelings for her shitty ex is incorrect, but the way he treated her is unacceptable.
“That night in Chicago, I ran into him in the lobby on my way to the pharmacy,” she continues, confirming my suspicions of what happened that night.
“He said a bunch of crap, but he also told me he broke up with me because I was working too much on my business and he felt it meant I couldn’t prioritize him or the relationship. ”
My nostrils flare at what that piece of shit told Isabelle. I should’ve thrown another punch at him in Chicago for what he did and said to Isabelle.
“He’s full of bullshit,” I say. “He only said that because his fragile ego couldn’t handle the idea of you having a successful business.”
“Yeah,” Isabelle says. “I guess I was shocked. I never saw him as that kind of person when we dated.”
“People can do a good job at hiding their true colors,” I say. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“I guess.”
“And I meant it when I said if Oliver ever gives you more crap, I’m not going to let it go,” I add.
“I know.” There’s a smile in her voice.
We cuddle together in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. If I had the ability to stop time, this is a moment I’d want to pause and never let go of.
Isabelle glances up at me. “I want to learn more about you. Did you always want to work in marketing?”
I hesitate. I’ve never told anyone about wanting to pursue architecture as a career, not even Aaron or Lucy.
I figure it’s easier to keep everything bottled up, to simply let people think that I’m happy to be the CEO of Carter Marketing Solutions.
Most people I come across just think my working at my dad’s company was my dream anyway; no one has ever questioned it.
But Isabelle’s opened up to me tonight, and I want to share parts of myself I’ve kept hidden, too.
“It’s somewhat complicated,” I finally say.
“Growing up, I always assumed I’d work at Carter Marketing Solutions, like my dad.
What you were saying about your mom … I can relate because my dad always had high expectations of me, growing up, and he expected I’d follow his footsteps.
So, I went to business school, like he wanted me to, and worked in marketing after graduation before coming back to New York to work at his company.
But if I were to choose a dream career, it would be … architecture.”
I never brought up architecture school to Dad either. I always thought he’d be disappointed in me if I told him I wanted to do something else.
“I can definitely picture that,” Isabelle exclaims, looking up at me.
“Really?” My lips break into a small smile. I’m not sure how I expected her to react.
“Yeah,” Isabelle replies. “I love those architectural photos on your Instagram, and when we were at the hotel in Chicago, you kept studying the architecture.”
My brain latches on to the first part of what she said. “Are you finally admitting to stalking me, Isabelle?”
She shoves my bicep. “Hey, that was only for research purposes.”
“Sure, only research,” I say. “If you told me you were flying to Mars tomorrow, I’d believe that more.”
She pushes me again. “As if you never stalked my account either.”
“I did. Also for research purposes.”
She laughs. “Guess we’re both going to Mars tomorrow then.”
A smile twitches my lips. “I guess we are.”
There’s a beat of silence before Isabelle speaks again. “You know, you were encouraging me to not worry about what my mom wants me to do, but what about you? You deserve to be happy and to follow your dreams, too.”
“I know.” It was easy to assure Isabelle she shouldn’t have to follow in her parents’ footsteps, but it feels different for me. “It’s just … I mean, I don’t hate working at Carter Marketing Solutions.” That’s not a lie. “I’m happy there, too.”
Are you really? a tiny voice in my head asks.
“If you say so,” Isabelle says, sounding unconvinced. She snuggles closer to me. “But promise me you’ll think about it more? I want you to be happy.”
I swallow. “I will.”
“Good.” She lets out a tired yawn.
“Sleep, Bella.” I place another kiss against her forehead.
“Okay,” she sleepily agrees.
She wiggles around and positions her hand over my chest. I place my hand on top of hers, lacing our fingers together.
Before long, Isabelle falls asleep, her chest gently heaving up and down.
There’s no one I’d rather have fall asleep in my arms than her.
When I wake up the next morning, Isabelle’s still asleep, a content look on her face and her hair ruffled. One of her hands is draped over the comforter and the other over my chest. A smile forms on my lips at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully. It feels like a daydream.
Moments later, Isabelle stirs and stretches her arms.
“Good morning, bedhead,” I say.
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs in a groggy voice, rolling to the other side of the bed and pulling the comforter over her head. “Just let me sleep.”
She’s cute when she’s all grumpy in the morning. If wanting to wake up next to her every morning is selfish, then I want to be the most selfish man on the planet.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Belle? Jackson?” It’s Karl’s voice.
Isabelle sighs. “So much for getting another five more minutes of sleep. I’ll get that.”
She treads out of the bed to open the door, and I get up as well.
“Hey, Dad,” Isabelle says.
“Good morning, Karl,” I politely add.
“Morning.” Karl gives us both a warm smile. “Breakfast is ready. I trust last night was okay?”
“It was,” Isabelle says. “And thanks. I’ll be there shortly.”
Karl pauses. “About what happened at dinner last night … despite everything, your mom is still proud of you. I’m going to talk to her as well, but maybe you two can talk sometime?”
“Yeah,” Isabelle says. “But only if she’s willing to reach out to me first about it.”
I’m proud of her for standing firm.
“Of course.” Karl nods. “Well, I’ll see you both downstairs.”
Once Karl leaves, Isabelle closes the door, turning to me. “You’ll stay for breakfast, right?”
“Absolutely.” I grin. “I’m not one to turn down free food.”
And now I probably sound like Aaron. No complaints, though.
Isabelle and I change into our clothes from yesterday, then head to the dining room, taking our seats next to each other.
Karl and Jane are already seated and diving into breakfast. Plates of fluffy blueberry pancakes with strawberry jam are placed on the table, the warm and sweet scents of the food filling the air.
“Good morning,” Jane says, greeting us with a nod. “Please help yourselves.”
Isabelle meets Jane’s gaze. “Morning, Mom. This looks delicious.”
“Thank you again for the hospitality,” I add.
I’m still pissed about Jane’s words at dinner last night, but I won’t bring it up again as long as she doesn’t say anything else hurtful to Isabelle.
“You’re welcome.” Jane places her fork down, turning to Isabelle. “Isabelle, I remember you like pancakes with strawberry jam the best.”
Isabelle’s lips part slightly, like she’s surprised her mom remembered. “Oh, yeah.” She glances around. “Is Ivy joining us for breakfast?”
“She left early,” Karl says. “I don’t think she slept well last night.”
I can’t find an ounce of sympathy within me at hearing that. I would’ve offered to sleep on the couch last night, but I didn’t trust Ivy to be alone with Isabelle without saying shit to her.
Jane clears her throat, facing Isabelle again and fiddling with her fork. “Isabelle, your designs … are there any that would suit a teenager? I’m thinking I could get something for a friend’s daughter’s birthday.”
Isabelle goes still in her seat, like she can’t believe her mom’s asking. I’m glad Jane is at least trying to make an effort—something she should’ve started doing long ago. Though I suppose now is better than never.
“Yeah, for sure,” Isabelle finally says. “Maybe I could show you a few designs?”
Jane nods. “That would be great.”
Isabelle smiles. “Awesome.”
After breakfast, Isabelle and I take turns using the bathroom to brush our teeth, with her going first. When I’m done, I head back to the guest bedroom, finding Isabelle also inside, sitting on the edge of the bed as she checks her phone.
She glances up at me, putting her phone away. “Hi. Long time no see.”
“Hey.” I chuckle, closing the door. “I know, right?”
Isabelle stands and walks over to me. She fiddles with her fingers. “I … I wanted to talk to you after last night.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask, feeling tightness encapsulate my chest.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I just wanted to tell you …” There’s a pause as her gaze lingers on my lips, and then she stands on her tiptoes, crashing her lips against mine.
My eyes widen with surprise, but that’s quickly overtaken by the pure need that fills me as I close my eyes and savor her soft lips, tipping up her chin for better access.
A groan rattles in my throat. I can still taste faint remnants of strawberry jam on her lips.
Deepening the kiss, my tongue seeks entry into her mouth, earning another needy moan from her.
Kissing Isabelle is something I’ll never get tired of.
She’s everything to me. Everything.
I’m a complete and utter goner for her.
When we break apart, Isabelle’s pink lipstick is all smudged, and her lips are slightly swollen.
Isabelle takes a deep breath. “Before I kissed you just then, I was going to say … I want to take that leap of faith.”
My heart thunders against my chest. There’s no trace of hesitation in Isabelle’s voice, but part of me is scared I only imagined hearing her say those words.
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Uh-huh.” Her gaze darts to my lips. “Also, you have lipstick smudged on your mouth.”
“Your lipstick,” I say, swiping my thumb along her bottom lip. “Which I’ll happily have all over my body.”
She laughs again. I think her laugh is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Here, let me help.” Isabelle reaches for a tissue from the tissue box on the nightstand. “You almost look like a clown,” she adds with another laugh.
“Well, this clown would like to take you out on a date.”
It’s what I’ve wanted to do for so long.
Isabelle bites her lip. “As in a real date this time?”
“Nothing between us was ever fake, Bella,” I say. “Everything that happened at the reunion, the awards night, your parents’ house, and everything in between … every hour, minute, second we spent together was real. All of it.”
There’s a pause as she takes in my words, and then her eyes shine, her whole face lighting up, and it’s the most beautiful thing.
“It was all real for me, too.”
I cup her face, feeling like I’m on top of the whole damn world. “So, what do you say about a date?”
My heart races as I wait for her reaction. I’ve never been nervous about asking a woman out until now, but Isabelle isn’t just a woman. She’s the woman of my dreams.
“I’d love to go on a date with you, Jackson.”
She said yes.
I’m unable to resist the large grin that spreads across my face. “I hereby give you notice that it’s gonna be the best date of your life.”
“Best date of my life?” Isabelle’s eyes sparkle. “That’s a bold statement. Are you sure?”
I raise a brow. “Is that a challenge?”
She smirks. “Yes.”
“Well, good thing I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”
I want to plan an amazing date, not to prove anything, but only because she’s the best, and she deserves nothing but the best.
Okay, that, and to show her I can plan a damn amazing date because I want to be the only man who has the privilege of taking her out.
A smile curves Isabelle’s lips. “I can’t wait.”
“Me too.”
She clears her throat. “I, uh, had better fix my lipstick before heading out.”