Chapter 12
TWELVE
Travis
I pull into the parking lot behind the RENT-A HUSBAND office early, filled with dismay.
Since Isla raced from my truck on Saturday, I’ve felt this oily sensation coating my gut. It’s not every day you’re confronted with what an asshole you are and the knowledge that maybe your past has made you see things through a filter that isn’t only inaccurate but is no longer serving you.
At first, I thought that my distrust toward women was justified, that my experience with Katherine had taught me a valuable lesson that would prevent me from being destroyed again. But now I wonder if it’s just made me lash out and hurt people.
People who are undeserving.
People like Isla.
And I feel like a complete dirtbag about how I’ve acted.
Which is why I need to walk into the office, apologize, and scarf down some humble shit pie. Unfortunately, I’m a proud man, and let’s say that makes it difficult to do. But I also know it’s the right thing to do.
Which is why I’m here early, knowing Isla is always at the office early. At least if I have to do this, I can make sure my brothers aren’t anywhere around.
I open the back door and walk down the hallway that leads to the front room where Isla’s office is located. Every footstep on the aged hardwood sounds like a death march.
Isla looks surprised to see me when I step into the room. She likely thought I was Lucas. There’s no way she thought Josh would be in this early. His alarm is probably going off right now to get ready for work.
“Morning,” I say gruffly. It comes out like that for whatever reason even though I’m trying to be nice .
“Morning.” Isla’s gaze drops from mine, and she returns to whatever she was working on, likely sorting out the calls for us today.
I take a few more steps forward and stop on the other side of her desk.
She keeps working for a few beats until she finally sets the papers on the desk with a huff and leans back in her chair, her gaze meeting mine. “Is there something you need, Travis?”
I hate the way she says my name with such derision and annoyance. The last time we were alone together, I was expecting to hear my name fall from her lips on a moan.
When I shift in place, my gaze darts down to my work boots, but I force my eyes back up to meet hers. “About Saturday…”
She turns her head to look away from me, cheeks pink. “Can we please just forget I ever said anything? I shouldn’t have.”
“Isla.” I wait until she looks at me. “I owe you an apology. I reacted poorly the night you left my place and… I’m embarrassed. You didn’t deserve what I said to you or the way I’ve been a low-key dick ever since. If I’d known… no, you know what, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, and I’m sorry.”
I may be apologetic for my behavior, but I’m not about to confess to her all the details from my past that made me react how I did.
Her eyes widen, and I think she’s surprised by my apology, which is fair given how I’ve acted toward her. “Thank you. I appreciate the apology.”
“I hope you know that it wasn’t that I didn’t get laid that night that upset me. It was the… rejection. Regardless, I acted and have been acting like an asshole, so I apologize. I hope you can forgive me.”
She blinks a few times before opening her mouth like she wants to say something and closes it again. An awkward beat passes, and the question I’ve been wondering since she bolted from my truck on Saturday evening comes rushing past my lips.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that night?” I set my hands on my hips.
Her face grows redder, and her eyes narrow the slightest bit. That’s when I feel we’ve stepped off the path of apology and onto a new one.
“Is that the only reason you’re apologizing now? Because you know that had I not gotten my period, I would have slept with you that night?”
My hands drop to my sides. “I’m not saying that.”
“So if I’d told you that I just didn’t feel like it, that I’d changed my mind, you’d still be apologizing?”
My molars grind together, and I’m surprised they don’t turn to dust. Why does this woman have to be so fucking difficult? I just humbled myself and apologized, didn’t I?
I draw in a deep breath, searching for patience. “But that’s not what happened.”
“Yeah, but you’re only just finding that out. Prior to this, you’ve been a ‘low-key dick’ to me when you thought I just ducked out because I didn’t want to have sex with you anymore.” She uses quotation marks around the words “low-key dick” to make it clear that those words were my own.
I blow out a breath, pulling my baseball cap off my head and pushing a hand through my hair before setting it back in place. “I’m well aware that you’re under no obligation to sleep with me regardless of the fact that I was buck naked and you had your fingers wrapped around my dick, Isla. I’m apologizing because I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. Period. No matter the reason, you changed your mind. Which begs the question—why didn’t you tell me you got your period that night?”
Isla looks affronted, as though what I said is entirely preposterous. “Because… I have my reasons.” She raises her chin as if daring me to push her.
“Such as?” I arch an eyebrow, happy that she’s the one on the spot, not me.
“Such as I didn’t want to.” When she crosses her arms in a huff, I notice two things.
First, she’s pretty damn cute when she’s angry like this. And second, it makes her cleavage even more noticeable in the V-neck tank top she’s wearing today.
“Did you think I’d say something stupid about it?” I raise my hand, realizing I did just that when she took off that night. “Don’t answer that. Were you embarrassed?”
The idea seems silly to me. She’s a woman. I know she’s dealing with a period probably twenty-five percent of the time, which is fucking crazy when you think about it. I don’t know how women do it.
She turns her head and looks away from me. That must be it.
I soften my voice. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a natural function of your body.”
“A natural function?”
“You know what I mean.” She’s exhausting. I’m trying here.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” She rolls her eyes but looks back at me.
There’s something more going on. “Why would you be so embarrassed that you wouldn’t tell me, Isla? I realize I didn’t handle things properly when you left, but up until that point, I thought we were getting along.”
“We were. It’s not you, it’s… something that happened a long time ago.”
My shoulders tense at the idea that someone caused her any pain, even if it was before I knew her. “What happened?”
“God, you’re not going to let this drop until I tell you, are you?” When I remain staring at her, she continues. “Back in seventh grade, when I first got my period, it happened in the middle of class. And of course I was wearing white shorts. I had no idea, and I got up to put something in the garbage, and everyone saw. It was on my shorts, on my chair.” She squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s in pain, reliving the memory. It’s all I can do to not stalk around the desk and yank her into my arms. “One of the boys yelled about how disgusting it was and that I was dirty.
“From then on, every month, the boys would leave maxi pads with ketchup on them on the chair at my desk, and they nicknamed me Bloody Mary.” She looks at her lap as though she still feels ashamed and embarrassed, then swallows hard before she looks back up at me. “It continued into high school for a while before it died out, but regardless, the damage was done. I’m an adult now, but anything to do with my period, and I turn hypersensitive.” She shrugs.
Middle school boys suck, and I’d like to go back in time and kick my own ass for shit I probably pulled and have no memory of how it affected someone.
My chest tightens at the idea of a younger version of this woman struggling because of a bunch of idiot boys. She has and had nothing to be embarrassed about. But I understand how the things that have happened in your past can have a lasting effect on you. Hello, fucking Katherine.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I’m not sure what else to say. I can’t make it better for her, but I do feel bad that she had to experience it. Then I realize that I essentially doubled down on Isla’s traumatic menstrual experiences with how I acted that night at my place. “I’m also sorry that I gave you yet another shitty experience having to do with your period.”
“It’s partially my fault. I panicked instead of telling you. It’s not like we knew one another well and I didn’t have anything on me…” Her head tilts, and she studies me for a beat. “Travis, based on how you’re acting here and how you were before we got to your place that night, it feels like there must be something more than rejection at play. Why did my leaving upset you so much?”
Well played, Isla. She just threw me a hard fastball right toward my junk. But there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to tell her about Katherine. That’s something I’m still trying to get past, but I can give her something.
My arms flail out to my sides. “I thought you were bailing because I admitted how long it had been since I’d slept with a woman. That you thought I was a loser or something because of it. That I’d be a shitty fuck and you didn’t want to waste a night.” I feel my face heat, and I look at my work boots, shifting in place.
I’m greeted with silence, and when I finally have the balls to look back up at her… well, I’m not sure how I’d describe the look on her face.
But she surprises me when she says, “It was the opposite. It made me feel special. I mean, look at you.” She motions with her hand toward me. “It’s not like I think the opportunity for you to hook up with someone hasn’t presented itself in the past years, yet you picked me.”
Our gazes hold, and it feels as if some tether between us draws me closer to her. I take a step toward her desk, unable to resist hauling her up my arms and pulling her into my body before I take her mouth.
But I quickly come to my senses and realize that it’s too late. It no longer matters because she’s moved on and is dating someone else now. A complete shithead, but still. She’s not up for the taking anymore.
Jesus, I really fucked up. The moment I first saw Isla, I knew she was hotter than hell, but this weekend at the barbeque, I got to see firsthand how much everyone in my life connects with her, enjoys her company, and sees what a wonderful person she is inside too. And I’m the only one missing out—all because I was a dumbass who jumped to conclusions.
I clear my throat and step back, rubbing my hand over the stubble on my face. “Well, I’m glad we had this little chat. Hopefully, we can move forward from here.”
Something akin to disappointment flashes across her face. “Of course. Thanks for the apology.”
I nod and head toward my office, afraid that if I stay any longer, I’ll make another mistake in regard to Isla.