22. Isabella
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ISABELLA
“What’s your favorite color?”
I giggle at Nick’s question. It’s the third he’s asked since we started the journey to my house. It’s as if he’s trying to learn all the mundane little things about me at once.
“Hmm…” I squeeze his hand. “I don’t think I’ve thought about what my favorite color is since I was a kid.”
He squeezes back, adding in a shoulder bump for good measure. “Think about it.”
A cool breeze swirls around us as we turn off Main Street and down onto a residential street. Light spills out onto the sidewalk from the windows as we pass, almost like our own yellow brick road leading us home.
“Yellow.” I turn to look at his handsome face. “I think yellow is my favorite color.”
He leads us onto my street with a thoughtful smile. “I’ll remember that.”
I have no doubt he will. Nick seems like the type who commits every single factoid to memory. He remembered my tea order after only one time, after all.
“What’s yours?” I ask.
“Green,” he quickly replies. “Green like a forest canopy as the sunlight filters through it.”
“Had that full description ready to go, huh?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? You never know when you’re going to be asked such an important question.”
I study Nick’s grinning face, his comment reminding me that there’s still so much I don’t know about him.
I know little bits and pieces—rebellious moments with his best friend as a child, the terrible accident, and now, his favorite color.
But most of his life remains a mystery. I realized that when I caught him staring off into space while grabbing the cake container.
Even so, our dynamic feels so natural, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle sliding into place. I don’t feel rushed to peel back the layers that make Nick who he is. I don’t need to dig and dig to uncover skeletons in his closet. I don’t have to search for the red flags most people are hiding.
Nick is different.
“Tell me one more fact about you,” he says so softly I could almost pretend it’s a trick of the night.
I pause, thinking about something personal. “I collect snow globes from all the places I’ve been.”
Have I ever told anyone that before? I always assumed I’d be made fun of or told it was silly. But Nick just smiles, nodding his head as if physically committing my words to memory.
I clear my throat.
“I’ve cleared your schedule again tomorrow, so you have time to build the stage. Outside of any emergencies, you should be good to go,” I say as we approach my door.
It’s a little weird that I’m bringing up work, but nerves have flooded my system. Is he coming inside? Is he leaving? Are we going to stand in an awkward stalemate as we try to decide?
I want him to come inside. At least…I wanted him to come inside when we were at the café.
In multiple ways.
“I’d like to make you dinner tomorrow after I build the stage. Can that be put on my schedule?” he asks, a little nervousness in his tone.
My heart does a little somersault in my chest. “Yeah, I’ll squeeze it in.”
I linger on the welcome mat—moment of truth.
He kisses my palm and closes my hand over it in a move that has me practically swooning. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Izzy.”
He’s not even going to try to stay? Disappointment lances through me like a knife. I’m not sure what I would’ve said if he actually asked, but it almost feels like…like maybe the shine’s worn off and he’s seeing that I’m just Izzy. Not what he thought I’d be. Not what he wanted. Not good enough.
Something I’m all too familiar with.
“Hey.” He lifts my chin with two fingers, but I staunchly refuse eye contact. He’s not responsible for my emotions. “Don’t shut off from me. What did I do?”
Yeah, Izzy. What did he do? He’s probably just trying to have some respect for you, and you’re being all weird.
I heave a heavy breath full of lifelong trauma I haven’t addressed as well as I probably should have. “It’s nothing. We all have our weird triggers, right?”
“Yeah,” he huffs, taking my hand once more. “And I want to know yours, so I don’t hurt you.”
I smile at him—this genuinely kind, beautiful man—and lift my other hand to his bearded cheek. “We’re going to trigger each other accidentally, that’s just part of being close to people. But this? The way you care and respond, that’s what makes the difference.”
“You know I want to come in, right? You know I want to finish what we started in the café. I want you, Izzy.”
His reassurance is everything. It warms my belly like a cup of hot cocoa. “Then why don’t you?”
“Because.” He gently squeezes my hand. “I’m taking this seriously. I want to give you time to process what we talked about tonight. I want to give myself time, too.”
It’s the mature thing to do. It’s what I’d normally want to do. It’s very much what I don’t want to do. Ugh, my head is a jumbled-up mess of sex and responsibility.
“Okay.” I give him a soft smile. “I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow. What can I bring?”
His face lights up, an infectious thing that catches fire in my chest. “You. That’s all I need.”
The words send me falling back into our comfortable, safe bubble, and silence the ache in my heart. “Charmer.” I smile. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I watch Nick walk away until he’s a little dot in the darkness. I wasn’t expecting to find him here in Lunamois, and there’s still a part of me that’s scared getting tangled up with someone will make leaving all the more difficult.
But what if you don’t leave? Whispers a tiny voice in my brain. What if you stay here with Nick, Georgie, and all the others, building a life you love? Would that really be so bad?
It wouldn’t be bad at all.