17. Nick
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NICK
The walk to Ocean’s Tide waterfront restaurant is too short for my liking.
Izzy slipped on the jacket she took from me the night before with a playful smirk that had me trailing after her like a well-trained puppy. I could’ve watched the sway of her hips, the shift of her body, for hours.
But here we are, walking up to the entrance. The autumn chill scrapes more intensely against my skin now that we’re so close to the ocean. I had initially thought about sitting outside, but it’s far too cold for that.
Next summer, if she lets me keep her.
A soft gasp leaves her as I open the front door, and she glides inside. I forgot how serene Ocean’s Tide is at night, in the darkness. I don’t make it here after nightfall often anymore. I’m usually only here for maintenance and repairs.
The owners—siblings Carter and Brielle—made the inside of the restaurant look like you’re standing on the bottom of the ocean.
The tables are spread far apart in the middle for easy conversation, and the booths are nestled up against the wall for privacy.
It’s full of people, but it doesn’t feel like it.
The space radiates with tans, blues, and greens, accompanied by soft mood lighting and the scent of saltwater.
I smile to myself at her reaction. I’m glad I chose the right spot.
“It’s beautiful,” Izzy says, eyes darting about as if she can’t decide what treasure to focus on. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
I almost puff out my chest in pride. “I’m glad you like it.”
One of the local teenagers who works here leads us to our more remote booth in the corner. The one I requested when I called earlier. The one with an already chilled bottle of champagne and freshly baked bread waiting for us.
This will be the best first date of her life, down to every single detail. It doesn’t matter that I had to call in my only favor from the time I saved the restaurant’s oven just in time for a busy weekend.
Izzy is worth it.
I gesture for her to sit first and then settle in across from her in the U-shaped booth. If I play my cards right, she may let me get closer as the night goes on.
“To you,” I say, once the champagne is poured, lifting my glass. “Thank you for putting so much hard work into this town and for organizing my life and bringing me breakfast. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her cheeks flush pink as she clinks her glass to mine. “Of course. Thank you for letting me help.”
“I get the feeling that you do whatever you set your mind to, whether or not you have permission,” I chuckle, leaning back. “And that I probably enjoy you taking charge more than I want to admit.”
She props her elbow up on the table, leaning her cheek on her fist. “You enjoy being told what to do, hmm?”
“No, the complete opposite, in fact. The werewolf blood tends to make me more likely to bark orders. The fact that I would happily take your direction means something.”
I watch as she gulps, the long lines of her neck working overtime. “What does it mean?”
Bold. My Izzy doesn’t shy away from asking the questions that lead her to the answers she needs. She’s not afraid to challenge—to push.
“It means”—I lean in as much as the table between us allows—“I’ve never met someone like you. In fact, I—”
“How are we doing over here?” The scrawny teenage server appears next to our table, thankfully, before I blurt out my feelings and ruin the evening before it even starts. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu? Can I get you something to drink?”
Izzy watches me, eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. I hastily pick up my menu and pretend to be engrossed in it.
I’m not ready to tell Izzy what she is to me yet, but I don’t want to lie to her either. I’m finding that to be a more difficult balance to maintain than I initially thought.
“I’m fine with the water and champagne, thank you,” she replies, words as soft as an autumn wind. I could listen to her talk for the rest of my life.
“As am I. Give us another minute or two for dinner, please.” I nod at the kid. “Thank you.”
He scuffles off, all gangly limbs he hasn’t grown into yet. He’ll make a fine werewolf one day.
“Were you able to get a lot of work done today?” Izzy asks, nibbling on some bread with a sort of nervous energy that claims my attention.
I nod. “It’ll be done soon enough, and then I’ll have time to build booths if necessary. Do you need any other help from me?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve got it. I just…I keep feeling like I’m not doing enough in a day. I want so much for this event and for all the people in Lunamois. You have all been kinder to me than my own family. I just want it to be enough.”
“Woman.” I slide over to her side of the booth, lifting her chin with my fingers. “You’ve done more for this town in a week than a lot of people have in their entire lives.”
“But—” Doubt swirls in her eyes.
“No buts. Not a single one. I don’t want to hear it. You are enough, Isabella Gregory. What you’re doing is enough.” I almost growl in my ferocity, but I want her to know that I mean this.
She is more than enough.
Tears fill her eyes, but don’t fall. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”
“Not even your parents?” I brush a lock of her hair back.
She huffs a laugh full of nothing but pain. “Especially them. I was never good enough.”
“You should have been. Izzy, I’ve known you for a little while, and I already know you’re more than enough.”
She hiccups a little, nibbling her bottom lip.
“I know what it is to do your goddamn best and have it still not be enough.” Images of my brother flit through my mind, of how close we were.
“You do?” Her eyes seem to grow as she gazes at me, soaking in the vulnerability I’m sharing with her.
I nod, emotion thickening in my throat.
“You’re enough, too, you know.” She smiles, placing her hand on mine on the table. I link our fingers, reveling in how seamlessly we fit together.
“You are extraordinary, Isabella Gregory.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Now eat some more bread and tell me about your favorite movies.” I smile at her watery chuckle.
I plan on telling her how amazing she is every single day for the rest of my life.