ISABELLA
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
My car slows in front of Georgie’s house about five hours later. It took me a little longer to break my lease than I thought, and I hit a little evening traffic, but I’m here.
And I need to talk to Georgie. Apologize for taking my anger out on her. She’s the first true friend I’ve ever had, and I can’t let this get between us. I won’t.
She gave me her address once, but I haven’t been to her house before.
It’s a small two-story with a view of the water. It’s situated in its own secluded area, away from the residential streets, and is painted a soft yellow.
I step out of my car, hands flexing on the baking dish I got for her. It’s something I picked up from one of my temp jobs, but never had a use for. I want her to have it.
I always loved it, but I’m not a baker.
I make my way to the front door, walking up the ramp. I wonder if Nick made this for Georgie’s father. Is he so sick that he can barely walk anymore?
Why haven’t I asked more questions?
I knock twice, stepping back a little bit, nerves skittering along my skin. What if she’s upset with me? What if I went too far?
An older woman answers the door with a kind smile. “How can I help you, dear?”
“I’m looking for Georgie,” I say, voice wavering.
“I got it, Dolores!” Georgie’s voice escapes from inside. She steps into view, trading places with the woman who disappears back into the home.
“Hi,” I say softly, rooted to my spot on her front porch.
She quirks a side grin. “Hey.”
“I’m…” I take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Georgie. I should never have taken all my complicated feelings toward Nick out on you. His not telling me must have put you in such an awful place, and I couldn’t expect you to break his trust.”
She rolls her eyes before drawing me into a hug, smooshing the harsh edges of the baking dish into my belly.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, idiot.
I should’ve done a better job of pushing him and refusing to be put in the middle.
I just…he’s had so much taken from him. I get why he was so scared to fully be vulnerable with you. ”
I press my face into her shoulder before we pull back. “I have some actual questions. Do you have a minute?”
She nods. “Why don’t you come say hi to Dad, and then we can sit outside? And do whatever it is you’re going to do with that gorgeous baking dish.”
I thrust it into her arms, following her into the house. “It’s for you! It’s an ‘I’m sorry for being all up in my feelings’ present.”
She stops walking, taking the dish with something like awe in her eyes. As if it’s entirely ludicrous that I would want to do something kind for her. A little sniffle escapes her before she rushes behind a wall that I assume houses the kitchen.
The house itself must be hard to manage for someone in a wheelchair. There’s a large reclining hospital bed in the living room in front of the television, and the hallways are a little small.
“George has a guest!?” I hear from one of the back rooms.
I snicker to myself as the sound of wheels picks up. An older man with a hunched spine comes into view, with Dolores pushing the wheelchair.
“George?” I ask with a smile.
“Mhmm,” the man confirms. “Named her myself after my favorite member of the Fab Four.”
“Dad, I’ve told you to stop calling me that!” Georgie says from the kitchen.
“And I’ve told you that while I respect your boundaries, you can get over it!” Her father replies, a jaunty laugh on his lips despite how frail he looks.
Age spots dot his hands, and an IV drip hangs from a holder behind him.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m Isabella, George’s friend.” I approach and stick my hand out toward him.
Georgie groans. “Fuck, not you, too!”
Her dad chuckles, shaking my hand with a weak tremble. “Duncan Mann. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well.” Georgie emerges from the kitchen. “Now that we’ve got those pleasantries over with, Isabella and I have something we need to discuss.”
“You come over anytime, Isabella, you hear me?” her dad says as I’m shuffled out the door.
“Thank you!”
Georgie closes the door behind us with an amused huff and directs me toward a pair of rocking chairs set up on the front porch. It gives the perfect view of the water.
“He’s adorable,” I say as we sit down.
“Yeah, a real sweetheart. Now, ask me your questions.” She leans in, and I think she’s maybe happy for the distraction. Her father obviously needs a lot of care. I’m not even sure if Nick is aware how far-gone things have gotten.
I’m happy to help distract her if that’s what she needs.
“Well, I guess I really only have one question.” I pick at the bottom of my flowing top. “Does Nick actually care about me as a person, or is it just the mate bond? Is that why he didn’t tell me? Because he’s only really attracted to me because of the bond?”
My eyes well up as I finally put voice to the thoughts that have plagued me since all of this started. Is it me, or the fact that I’m his mate?
“Hey.” Georgie puts her hand over mine, effectively stopping my anxious fussing.
“I get why that could be a fear of yours. But, Isabella, I’ve never heard him talk about anyone like that before, and it’s not just because of the mate bond.
He adores you. He thinks you’re intelligent, beautiful, and kind.
He can wax poetic about you for hours. And as someone who already knows how amazing you are, he’s not wrong.
It’s a little lovesick for my liking, but he’s not wrong. ”
A little tear slips down my cheek. “Really?”
“He couldn’t be any crazier about you.” She nods. “And I think you know that.”
I do. Despite this lie, and how much it hurt me, I know the way Nick looked at me. I know the way he touched me. Spoke to me.
This is real.
My phone pings, and Georgie gestures for me to pick it up.
Nick: I’m sorry. If you’re ready, I’d love the chance to apologize properly. I’m at my house and will be all night.
I read the text aloud to Georgie, and she laughs. “His ears must’ve been burning.”
I laugh at that, eyes tracing over each word a million times until she clears her throat at me.
“Isabella. What are you waiting for?”
I blink, cheeks still wet from my tears.
She stands, pulling me up with her by my hands. “Go get your man.”