Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ISABELLE
As soon as the show is over, I’m dragged into conversation after conversation.
There are congratulations and questions from people who are interested in learning more about the inspiration behind each piece.
Fellow small-business fashion designers who are interested in hosting their own show.
Old classmates from fashion school who came to support me—some now working at large fashion labels, others in marketing and fashion event coordinating, and one person working as a costume designer.
I chat with everyone who approaches me, giving them my undivided attention.
But in the back of my mind, there are thoughts of one person.
Jackson.
He hasn’t approached me yet, but every time I look for him, I spot him standing by himself near the back, a mix of wistfulness and pride in his eyes as he stares at me. Like he wants to talk to me, but he also wants me to talk to my attendees and savor all the success of tonight first.
The warehouse is nearly empty two hours later as most people leave.
Jen appears to my side, a glass of champagne in her hand, her blue eyes gleaming with delight. “Look at you go, you social butterfly.”
I chuckle. “My introvert self is shocked.”
Footsteps echo, and Jen’s eyes dart to someone behind me.
Even without turning around, I feel Jackson’s presence, the scent of his fresh cologne wrapping around me, so familiar that it hurts.
Slowly, I face him, my breath catching in my chest. He’s holding the bouquet and paper bag he brought at the start of tonight.
Jen clears her throat. “I’m going to grab some more food.” She touches my shoulder and heads off, leaving me and Jackson alone.
Jackson’s expression cracks open with something tender. “Congrats on your first fashion show, Isabelle. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I say, a thickness in my throat.
He hands me the flowers and paper bag. “These are for you.”
I smell the peonies and peek at the strawberry jam doughnuts inside the bag. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I place the items on the table next to me and hesitate, fiddling with my fingers. “Earlier tonight, I thought you weren’t going to show up.” The burning sensation in my eyes threatens to return, but I glance at the ceiling, willing it to go away.
Regret fills his eyes. “I’m sorry I was late.
After I left the bakery, there was a kid who fell on the sidewalk while he was waiting for his mom and started crying when he scraped his knee.
I stayed with him until his mom came. And I was going to text you, but then I thought …
” He swallows. “I wouldn’t have missed your big night.
Even if I was only watching from the back. ”
“Oh,” I sheepishly say. “Well, I’m really happy you came.”
Tonight’s show wouldn’t have been possible without him, and our breakup doesn’t change that.
Jackson shuffles his feet, his jaw tightening like he’s considering the right words to say. “How have you been?”
I deliberate on my response. “I’ve been … managing. Work’s been busy. How about you?”
It pains me that we’re resorting to small talk like strangers.
“I’ve been missing you every day.” Jackson’s eyes connect with mine, a downcast expression washing over his face. He takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life, pushing you away. I know I hurt you, and I can’t apologize enough for that.”
The familiar ache in my chest returns, the one that’s been my closest companion over the last few weeks.
“You did hurt me.” My voice is a pained whisper. “But I told myself you were going through a difficult time and that you needed space. I wanted to be there for you, Jackson.” A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away. “I just wish you’d let me.”
Jackson momentarily squeezes his eyes shut, his facial muscles tense.
“And I hate that I didn’t.” His fingers dig into his palms, his knuckles turning white.
“The night before our breakup, I decided to step down as CEO and pursue architecture. I walked into work with a plan to only give notice, but when Andrew approached me, I ended up asking what prompted his affair with my mom.”
The heartbreak in his voice slashes right across my chest.
His face grows tight. “When he gave his answer, I lost it, and I quit on the spot, but as soon as I left the building, I panicked and spiraled. I blamed myself for quitting without talking to you beforehand, and I was scared that maybe I’d made the wrong decision, that architecture wouldn’t work out. ”
He pinches his nose bridge and exhales again.
“The whole time I was walking to The Daily Brew, there was an endless loop of negative thoughts in my head, and I was so convinced you were better off without me. I didn’t plan to end things before arriving, but when I sat down and realized I’d forgotten to pick up the doughnuts I was going to get you, it felt like the final straw.
It sounds stupid in hindsight, but …” His voice trembles. “It felt so raw and real at the time.”
My breath snags halfway in my throat, the air in the room turning thin. I knew Jackson was putting a lot of pressure on himself and that he was hurting after the revelation about his mom and Andrew, but I didn’t know about the extent of his internal battle.
“Jackson, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“My whole life, I’ve prided myself on being a high-achiever,” he hoarsely says.
“Good grades. Doing well in what I did. Being a reliable, organized person who had his shit together, someone who was capable of being a leader.
When I found out about my mom and Andrew, that version of me disappeared, and I blamed myself for it.
“I pushed you away because I was convinced it was selfish of me to lean on you, but I made that choice for the both of us, which wasn’t fair on you.
Aaron and Jen called me out on it, and it made me realize …
I didn’t want you to see the messy, unpolished parts of me.
I was scared that maybe you’d think differently of me if you did.
That mindset was so wrong. So fucking wrong. ”
My throat turns dry. “I would never think any differently of you, Jackson. Especially not when you were going through all that. I wanted you to lean on me, like how you’d always been there for me.”
“I know.” His hands drop to his sides, his head hanging low. “And I’m so sorry again.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I understand. It was a lot to take in, and I get that you were overwhelmed. I would’ve been the same.”
A beat of silence passes as his eyes search my face. “Maybe it’s not the right time to say this, but I want to tell you how I feel. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
Anticipation fills my chest. “Jackson …”
“I love you, Isabelle,” he says, a wobbly smile on his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and if you’ll have me, I won’t ever be foolish enough to let you go again.”
My heart beats faster, my breath hitching as the reality of his words sink in.
Jackson loves me.
And he wants me back.
These past three weeks, they’re the words I dreamed of him saying to me every day, but now that it’s actually happening …
I rub my arms. Of course I want to be with him again, but life is always going to be full of ups and downs. Jackson’s had more time now to process his mom and Andrew’s affair, but what if, in the future, something else happens and he shuts me out again?
Jackson’s smile falters when I don’t say anything, his expression falling. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I know you’re worried. And I hate myself for creating that worry.”
I look away and then back at him. “Jackson, I …”
He reaches a hand toward my face, as if wanting to cup my cheek, but then his hand tenses, and he lowers it. His jaw flexes.
“I still don’t have everything figured out yet.
I’m job-hunting and applying for architecture school.
I started therapy, mostly to help process what happened, but I’m going to address me feeling guilty about asking for help, too.
And I’ll keep waiting for you for as long as I have to.
” His eyes are glassy with visible redness now.
“Because you’re it for me, Bella. It’s always been you.
It took me eight years to realize my feelings for you, and I’d wait another eight years, sixteen years, a lifetime if I had to. ”
Conviction fills his voice at his last sentence, and the ache in my chest gives way to something else.
Warmth, like the first flame that lights up in a fireplace.
“You came here tonight with a garment bag,” I slowly say. “What was in there?” For some reason, I have a gut feeling that it’s not one of his suit jackets.
“A jacket.” He hesitates, touching his neck. “Originally, I came here tonight thinking I’d give it to you with the flowers and doughnuts, but I got scared that maybe you wouldn’t like it.”
“I would love anything you picked out for me,” I say. “Can I … can I still see it?”
Jackson nods. “I’ll be back.”
He heads to one of the clothes racks I set up inside the warehouse before returning with a denim jacket.
Despite the inconsistent stitching in some areas and the uneven edges at the sleeves, the jacket is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
He turns to the back of the jacket and points to the design, his throat bobbing.
“It has a small floral print because you love florals. The first flower is a peony because that’s your favorite flower.
And there’s a sunflower next to it because it’s what you remind me of, someone who’s resilient and strong, standing tall and blooming beautifully, no matter what. ”
The warmth in my chest spreads wider until it’s all that’s consuming my body, like a bright glow.
“You made this,” I say, the words a statement rather than a question, because I know. I just know.
Jackson’s cheeks tint pink. “Go easy on me, please. I’m still a novice.”
“It’s so beautiful,” I breathe. “How … how did you make it?”