Chapter Fifteen
ISOBEL
Boston
As the door to my apartment clicked shut, the gravity of what had just transpired between Adrian and I felt like a weight on my chest. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for what he was asking. Two months ago, I would have laughed at anyone who suggested I was even attracted to him more than physically, much less that I would know what his face looked like when he came, or what he tasted like, or the sinful things I now knew he could do with the tip of his tongue.
Grant hadn’t been like this, he hadn’t been spontaneous or passionate, and he’d certainly never told me to sit on his face. I knew that we’d been young, but my track record with relationships had left a bad taste in my mouth. It was easier to hide in the books I edited and live vicariously through women who had exciting sex lives. It’d never bothered me, at least not until Adrian had awoken this dormant side of me.
I knew women in their late thirties were supposed to have an insatiable sexual appetite, but I never expected that to apply to me. After the divorce, I hadn’t anticipated anyone coming in to sweep me off my feet like this. I was damaged goods. Used up and spit out during my mid-twenties and left to become an old maid.
The handful of dates I’d been on had been lackluster. Men my age were looking to settle down and have a partner by their side while they started a family. It hadn’t been appealing to me, especially since I was unsure if I could deliver on the providing a family part.
When I’d suggested fertility testing before I was served with divorce papers, Grant had made our inability to conceive seem like it was my problem, not his. After he left, I was too afraid he was right and pushed the idea of having kids out of my mind. I focused on my career, dated when it was convenient, and built up a life where the only bedroom adventures I seemed to have were explored through the pages of a book.
I envied Chase and her ability to have this big, open heart, to believe in love and men who were supportive of their partners and the happily ever after I wasn’t convinced existed.
Adrian wanted to date me. It was the last thing I expected when he invited himself over tonight. I expected him to try to fuck me, since we hadn’t the last time, and then ignore me in the office like I’d been futilely trying to ignore him for the last several weeks. But he seemed to like me, and when we were alone, I found myself returning the sentiment.
We’d had our disagreements recently, but those didn’t seem to faze him. He wanted me, and God help me, I think I wanted him too.
Isobel: I need to talk. Are you in town? Can you meet me for a drink?
I waited impatiently as I saw the three dots appear on my phone screen, taunting me as I waited for a reply to my text. This was an emergency. I needed someone neutral to tell me I wasn’t being an idiot by considering this.
LJ: I am in town. But I think you need to make it worth my while. How about dinner at my place? You buy and I’ll supply the booze.
Placing my phone down on the coffee table, I pulled my shorts up, running my hand over the top of my head and cringing when I got to the disaster of what was once my artfully messy bun. I must have looked like a hot fucking mess when Adrian left. Real attractive. It was a wonder he kept coming back for more.
Isobel: I’m available tomorrow. Does around 6 work for you?
LJ: I can make it work. Come hydrated and ready for tequila shots. Sounds like it’s time for the truth serum.
Isobel: We’re not twenty-five anymore, Lei.
LJ: You can handle a few. I have a feeling it’s the only way I’ll get the truth out of you.
Isobel: No withholding. Trust me, I need someone else to talk this out with me.
LJ: Is this about Grant’s post?
I paused, frowning as I looked at the message. Grant hadn’t even crossed my mind when I texted Leila. And I hadn’t looked at any of his social media in years, deciding to hide his posts for my own mental health. Sure, we were still ‘friends’ on Facebook and Instagram, but I wasn’t exactly keen to revisit the man who left me.
Isobel: I haven’t spoken to Grant directly in nearly a decade. Why would one post bother me?
LJ: Just checking.
Now I was burning with curiosity over what this mystery post said. Last I heard, he was dating a yoga instructor who was into holistic medicine and was going to some kind of wellness center for a few months with her in the mountains of Colorado.
LJ: You know he’s different now, right?
Isobel: I don’t want to talk about Grant.
LJ: Okay. I’m here if you change your mind. See you tomorrow. I’ll send you my order. Don’t be late or I’m making you take extra shots.
I closed out of my text messages, my fingers hovering over the icon for Instagram, knowing it was a bad idea to go snooping. But if Leila thought his post was going to upset me, I knew I needed to put on my virtual big girl panties and find out what it said.
Typing in his familiar username, I blinked when I saw the thumbnail above his stories. It was him, the tiny yoga instructor, a dog at their feet and a little bundle in his arms.
My stomach bottomed out as I clicked on the colorful ring surrounding the picture, a boomerang coming up on the screen of two large hands cradling a little head, the soft features of a sleeping baby pulling the breath right out of my lungs.
So, it was me.
My jaw clenched as I tried to keep tears from forming in my eyes, and I knew I needed to exit out of his page and leave things alone, but I’d always blamed myself for the deterioration of our marriage.
Clicking on the first picture in his feed, I scanned the paragraph of text below, my pulse racing as I took in the words, Grant’s ability to manipulate words into something beautiful shining through.
Today, we welcomed another little heart into our lives. I’m so proud to be the father of this little boy.
The words echoed in my brain as I scanned the rest of the text, the hashtag #miracleofadoption catching my attention .
Over ten years after he’d divorced me, he finally got his happily ever after with another woman, with the one thing he’d sworn to me he never wanted. The one thing I’d suggested after years of trying that had driven him further away from me and led to my grad school graduation present from him being divorce papers.
Fuck.
Maybe I needed to talk to Leila about this. Because I was tired of feeling like I wasn’t enough.
Saturday morning had been spent avoiding my phone, my Wi-Fi turned off on my laptop, and my head down as I proofed a document that was being sent to print in a few weeks. Kristine had already been through it twice, but I needed something to keep my brain occupied while I tried to figure out where my head was at.
Leila was one of the first friends I made in grad school, and she worked for a lifestyle blog in Boston as a copywriter. I’d tried to get her to come with me to the dark side of fiction writing, but she claimed she didn’t have the creativity to create new worlds, just to make witty commentary on the real one we lived in.
She was there when my marriage fell apart, helping me to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart when Grant walked away with my future.
Deciding I’d been productive enough, I picked up my phone from the coffee table and glanced at the screen, my heart stuttering when I saw I had a missed text message from Adrian. I hadn’t expected to hear from him until the work week started, and I was equally scared and curious as to why he was messaging me. The preview on the lock screen wasn’t giving anything away.
Adrian: Morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well. I know I did after…
Knowing I’d just get sucked back in by him, I ignored the message and sought a hot shower instead. I needed to process some things in my head before Leila confronted me because if there was one thing I knew, Leilani Johnston didn’t hold back when she thought you needed to hear something.
Two more text message alerts were taunting me after my shower when I pulled up the Uber app on my phone to request a ride. Leila didn’t know that I’d finally sold my car, and I knew she’d feel bad that I was picking up dinner on my way to her place, but it wasn’t like I was struggling. I was just tired of the weight around my neck that insuring, parking, and fueling a car entailed. I wasn’t going to drive to Iowa when I visited my family, so being close to an airport and public transportation was all I needed.
LJ: I’m using tequila to distract myself from being hangry, get your cute ass over here soon or I can’t be held responsible for my mouth later.
Leila was never one to hold her tongue regardless, but as the text confirmation my order was ready at the Thai restaurant a few blocks from her place came through, I grabbed my purse and locked up my apartment, heading down to the street to wait for my ride.
As a shiny black sedan pulled up at the curb, I momentarily panicked that Adrian had come over unannounced, but when the window rolled down and a petite woman with pink dreadlocks leaned over the passenger seat, I relaxed.
“You Isobel?”
Nodding, I stepped to the back passenger door and slipped into the backseat, relaxing into the worn leather seats.
“Address still the same? ”
“Yeah, the one stop okay before the final destination?” I confirmed, and she nodded before she merged into the light traffic on my street, heading out of Jamaica Plain toward South End, the much trendier district my friend had claimed as home after we’d moved away from the university graduate housing.
Leila was holding a pint glass with amber liquid pooled in the bottom when she opened the door to her apartment, her signature knowing smirk in place.
“You need to catch up, especially if we’re going to unpack that bomb I dropped in your lap last night.”
Thrusting the takeout bag at her outstretched palm, I took the glass from her. Sniffing, my eyes widened as I took in the pungent aroma of Don Julio. He’d seen me through many questionable decisions in the last ten years, but Leila kept thrusting him back into my life when I thought I’d kicked the habit.
“You’re not messing around.” Blowing out a breath, I took a generous sip of the liquid, the spicy flavor coating my tongue as I held it in my mouth before swallowing. But that innocent motion just reminded me of another liquid I’d held in my mouth when Adrian was seducing me with oyster play and suggestive commentary that my brain had taken and run with. Which had to be the reason I lost my damn mind and had gotten involved with him. He was becoming as addictive and toxic as the liquid in the glass in my hand. Nothing good would come from a night with him, but I couldn’t manage to stay away.
“Girl,” Leila laughed while she closed the door and led me into the kitchen. “With the look that just crossed your face, you’ve been keeping secrets. Drink up, because you’re not getting out of here without telling me why the hell you’re texting me for an emergency girl sesh that has nothing to do with Grant. ”
Wincing, I took another generous sip, hanging my purse on the back of a barstool as I sat down at the small peninsula dividing her kitchen from her open living space.
“We doing this before food or after?” I asked before I tipped the glass back, my throat burning as I swallowed hard.
“After,” she said with a nod, peeking inside the bags and pulling out the container with the familiar markings of her usual order. “I don’t think you want me hangry for this conversation.”
We sat across from each other in the tiny booth seating she’d installed in the bay window in her living room; her smirk growing as I picked at my Khao pad, the fragrant fried rice making my mouth water.
Leilani had—unsuccessfully—tried to set me up on blind dates in the past, telling me that while I didn’t have to ever get married again, it was unacceptable to settle into a life of spinsterhood in my thirties. That could be delayed until my sixties. Which was looking like a likely possibility with the way things were headed.
“Quit playing with it and get down to it.” Leila smirked as she closed her container, nodding at the destroyed bowl of rice and remnants of my meal that’d been picked apart with the blunt end of my chopstick.
I wanted to laugh, and add in the classic Michael Scott joke, but then that just reminded me of Adrian, and I was trying to figure out if this thing between us could go any further.
“Remember the guy from the office I told you about?”
“Which one? The one that was too nice and had a great ass, or the one who acted like an ass that you frequently want to castrate?”
Her laughter indicated she’d answered her own question, and she was highly entertained by my poor decision-making choices.
“Is he at least good in bed? That must be the reason you’re coming to me, right? You need me to smack some sense into you. ”
Not exactly. I needed someone who didn’t know him to analyze the situation to see if they thought he was being sincere. That was the thing about loveable assholes. They had good intentions most of the time, but they still managed to hurt people without trying. I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment and buy into his words instead of his past actions.
“I haven’t slept with him.”
“But…” she prompted, her dark eyebrow arching into the smooth caramel hued skin covering her forehead. I was envious of the fact that she was a year older than me but didn’t have a wrinkle or gray hair in sight. “You did other things though, right? I can tell. Did you hawk-tuah and spit on that thang ?”
“Can you be serious for like one minute?” I knew she was teasing me, but I didn’t know how to deal with Adrian after what happened on my couch.
“Spitting on it is serious.”
“You spend too much time on TikTok,” I laughed, knowing she was referring to a video that’d gone viral a few months prior. Shaking my head, I decided to just tell her. “He wants to date me.”
“Holy fuck,” she laughed. “Only you could attract the same man twice.”
She met Grant when we were together. He’d been as much of an ass as Adrian could be, but he was also emotionally distant and stubborn as hell. Not good qualities in a man when you were trying to salvage a floundering marriage. From this alternate side of Adrian I was seeing, it was obvious they were vastly different in their emotional maturity. Not something I’d have thought a few months ago when I was convinced my four-year-old nephew had more emotional bandwidth than my handsome coworker.
“You can start talking or I can ply you with more of our favorite Don, but either way, you’re not leaving here until we talk this out. So, open your mouth or I’m getting out the shot glasses. ”
Glancing at my phone on the table, I saw it light up with another text message from Adrian, and Leila’s eyes zeroed in on the screen full of notifications.
“Are you ghosting this poor bastard?” she giggled, reaching for my phone. Before I could stop her, she’d typed in my passcode and started scanning. “Oh, he’s got it bad. Sounds like Dickhead wants to put his dick in something alright.”
Her fingers started flying across the screen and my eyes widened as I reached across the table to grab my phone from her grasp. The last thing I needed was her sending Adrian something incriminating, or worse—sexting him.
“Nice try, bish,” she laughed, triumphantly tapping the screen before she dropped it into my hand.
Adrian: Morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well. I know I did after I handled things when I got home. Not as well as you did, but I can wait for more from you. I’ve waited this long. And I’ll wait until I know you want me for something other than my hot bod.
What an idiot. I tried not to laugh at his phrasing, but from what I’d seen of his bod so far, he wasn’t wrong.
Adrian: What are your lunch plans for Monday? I made a reservation at that little Italian restaurant down the street from the office. I think we need to talk. We do still have some pages to get through. Working lunch?
Adrian: I lied. I don’t want to work, but I do want to see you again. I meant it when I said you weren’t allowed to ignore me anymore.
Adrian: I’m going to keep texting you until you agree to a date. I can be very persistent when I want to be. You may as well give in now.
Adrian: Wear that skirt we talked about to work on Monday. I was sad when you took it out of the rotation.
Adrian: It’s long enough you don’t need panties. Just an observation.
Adrian: I’ll be in your office at 11:45. If you try to escape, I’ll find you.
Adrian: Yes, I meant for that to sound creepy, but I’m serious. Hiding isn’t going to get you out of giving this a chance. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you again, I want more.
He was clearly trying to lay it on thick, so I couldn’t get nervous and try to push him away again. From any other man, I would find the overbearing attitude a turnoff, but I couldn’t hide the blush as I read his missed texts.
Isobel: I’ll be waiting, sans panties, at 11:45 on Monday. You had better bring your A-game, big boy.
As I read through Leila’s reply, I shook my head at her brazen response. But I had no doubt that he’d think it was from me because of the big boy comment tacked onto the end. I’d called him that before, much to his inflated ego’s amusement. Clearly my friend knew my go to phrases a little too well.
Adrian: Better block out your calendar in the afternoon with that kind of flirting. I’m going to need time to check the truthfulness of your statement. It’s not nice to mislead a gentleman.
Isobel: Let me know if you find one. We both know you’re not a gentleman.
Adrian: If I weren’t a gentleman, I wouldn’t have left last night.
Isobel: Behave.
Leila was bouncing in her chair as I ignored her to respond to Adrian’s messages, her eagerness to see the rest of the conversation obvious with how she was watching me.
Adrian: You know me better than that. That’s not what you want either.
Isobel: Save it for Monday.
Adrian: A-game activated. Be ready for it.
Isobel: Oh, I’m more than ready. Bring it. If you can…
“Give me that.” Leila snatched the phone from my hand, laughing as she read through the messages. “Oh, he so wants to fuck you.”
Yeah… I was aware. Which was why I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him. But I was having a hard time convincing myself that was the right choice.
“You’re going on Monday.” Her statement left no room for argument, and she would hound me until I agreed.
“I know.” I was curious how things would play out between us. It was too late to back out now. He’d worked his way in, and I was intrigued enough to give him a chance.
“Let me know if his A-game involves getting dicked down in the copy room.”
“Leila!”
“Hey, might as well live out those dirty work fantasies. He looks like the type to know what he’s doing. ”
“Not exactly looking to get fired for screwing on the copy machine, Lei.”
“They invented locks for a reason, Is.”
She laughed as she handed back my phone, her delight at this situation pulling me out of the funk I’d been in since my deep dive into Grant’s social media.
“I’m taking it by the way your expression just darkened that you looked at what I let slip?”
I nodded, biting my bottom lip, tears forming at the corner of my eyes as I finally let myself process what I’d been avoiding. “I’m not surprised.” My eyes closed as I shook my head, reaching up to swipe a tear that escaped. “I mean, look at her. Of course he’d change his mind for her.”
“We both know he was obsessed with you, so fuck that, Is. He’s not the same angry person he was with you.”
“Is that supposed to be helpful? That being with me—being married to me—made him angry.”
Leila pinched her lips together before she sighed. “He was too upset back then to understand the ramifications of his decisions. He still texts me to see how you’re doing sometimes.”
“Oh great, glad you two like to talk about me behind my back. He hasn’t had a actual conversation with me since the ink dried on the papers. Nice to know he’s willing to spy on me through my best friend, but doesn’t have the balls to ask me how I was doing after he destroyed my future when he pulled the shit he did.”
Angrily dropping my phone to the table, I stood and paced behind the couch, hating that I still had this much resentment over the situation in my heart. It still felt like there were so many answers I was denied when everything happened, and now he was moving on with a new woman and a new baby. All he did for me was rip my heart out and stomp on it without so much as a backward glance.
“If you couldn’t tell by the cryptic adoption hashtags, it was him, Isobel. He was the reason you couldn’t get… ”
Yeah, I figured as much since one of the largest arguments of our marriage happened after I threw out the idea of adoption when trying to conceive wasn’t happening naturally. Along with the fingers he pointed when I suggested both of us seek fertility testing.
“But for her, he did the one thing he told me he never wanted. The exact subject that triggered him filing for divorce. He would do it for her, but not forme. What does that say about me? Where does that leave me? Why does he get his happily ever after and I don’t? You think it didn’t break me when we lost the first baby, then another, and then all the negative tests that followed? I thought I was barren.”
Her arms wrapped around me, her chin resting on my shoulder as she rocked back and forth.
“You can still have that, too.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I scoffed, knowing that the part of me that wanted a family had died out and my career had filled in the void.
“Women our age have babies all the time.”
“I don’t want to do this by myself.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter. A tear tracked down my cheek and my chest heaved as I tried to swallow back the grief that had been building inside me for the last decade. “I’m here if you want to do this, obviously not with the whole dick-sperm part, but you know Auntie Leila will help teach your kid how to take over the world.”
“I want a partner,” I whispered brokenly while I leaned my head against hers, hating that I still held this weight on my chest over ten years later.
“So go find one,” she laughed. “Dickhead seems to be auditioning for the part. And you know he’d make pretty babies.”
“Oh, God. He is not father material.” But I wasn’t convinced that was true. From the parts of his personality he’d revealed to me over the last few months, he wasn’t what I originally thought he was. He could be kind and compassionate. If I let him in, would he make a good dad? Did he even want to be one? He was over a year older than me and remained a bachelor. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. I wouldn’t know the answer to that unless I asked. Which meant putting myself out there.
And putting yourself out there was scary as fuck.
“Sometimes people surprise you.”
And as she rocked me from behind and I let the tears fall from my eyes, I realized she was right. Sometimes people surprised you and maybe it was time for me to open my heart again.