14. Isabelle #2
The sun has finally set. The string lights glowed brighter against the darkening sky. Guests started to leave—hugs and air kisses and promises to see each other at the wedding.
Aria was one of the first to go.
"I have to get home," she said, gathering her gifts. "Sebastian's flight gets in at nine and I want to be there when he arrives."
"You saw him two days ago."
"Two very long days." She hugged me tight. "Thank you, Isabelle. For everything. The shower, the dress, all of it. I couldn't have done any of this without you."
I hugged her back. "You could have. But I'm glad you didn't have to."
She left in a flurry of flowers and gift bags, Priya and Nalani trailing behind to help her carry everything to her car.
The rooftop emptied slowly after that. Staff began clearing tables, folding chairs. The music switched off, leaving only the ambient sound of the city below.
Soon it was just me and Kim, sitting at one of the remaining tables, nursing the last of the champagne as the sky deepened to navy.
"Good shower," Kim said.
"Very good shower."
"Aria cried. That's how you know it was successful."
"Happy tears."
"The best kind."
My phone buzzed. I glanced at it without picking it up. Femi, again.
I silenced it without answering.
Kim noticed but didn't comment, her expression carefully neutral. We sat in comfortable silence, watching the city lights flicker on below us.
My phone buzzed a third time. Same name glowing on the screen.
"You can answer that," Kim said gently. "I don't mind."
"I don't want to answer it."
She nodded slowly, understanding. Didn't push.
The rooftop door opened behind us.
I turned, expecting a staff member come to tell us they were closing. Instead, Matteo stepped through, looking slightly uncertain, his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching for mine.
"Bella." Relief flooded his face when he found me. "I hope this is okay. You told me where you'd be, and I thought…”
He trailed off, glancing at Kim with sudden awareness.
"I'm Kim." She stood smoothly, extending her hand with a knowing smile. "Xavier's fiancée. We've met briefly before."
"Yes. At the wine tasting for the wedding." He shook her hand. "It's very good to see you again."
Kim looked between us, reading the room with perfect clarity. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth.
"I should go," she announced. "Zoe has a ballet recital tomorrow and I promised I'd help her practice tonight. She's very serious about it."
"Kim, you don't have to—"
"I really do. Zoe is very serious about this recital. She's made me a schedule." She gathered her things, hugged me quickly. "I'll see you before you leave for Milan?"
"Yes. Tomorrow morning."
"Good." She squeezed my hand, then turned to Matteo. "Nice to see you again."
And then she was gone, and it was just the two of us on a rooftop full of fairy lights and fading flowers.
Matteo crossed the space between us slowly.
"Bella." His voice was soft. "You look beautiful."
I laughed, self-conscious, pressing my hand to my hair which had long since abandoned any pretense of style. "You don't have to lie. I know I look like a mess. It's been a very long day."
"Beautiful," he repeated. Firmer this time. Like he meant it. "Always beautiful to me."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I said nothing.
He sat in the chair Kim had vacated, turning it to face me directly. His knee brushed mine, warm even through fabric.
"How was the shower?"
"Good. Really good, actually." I found myself smiling, the tension easing. "We played games—there was one where Aria had to guess Sebastian's answers to questions about himself. She got most of them right. And then we made her drink every time she said his name, which was very entertaining."
"That sounds dangerous." His eyes were warm, amused.
"It was. She was very tipsy by the end." I reached for my champagne, took a sip. "And then we danced. And she opened gifts. We made her a photo album with pictures of her and Sebastian—candid ones, moments we'd captured over the past year. She cried."
"Happy tears?"
"The happiest."
He was watching me while I talked. Not just listening politely, but actually engaged. His eyes moved over my face, catching every expression, every shift in emotion.
"It sounds like it was perfect," he said.
"It was. I think she felt really loved. That was the whole point, making sure she knew how much she matters to all of us."
"You did that. Made her feel that way."
"Not just me. Everyone helped."
"But you organized it. You made sure every detail was right." He smiled. "You're very good at that. Making people feel special."
My throat tightened unexpectedly at the sincerity in his voice.
"I leave for Milan tomorrow," I said, needing to say it before I lost my nerve. "Back to the boutique. Back to real life."
Matteo nodded slowly. "I'll be in Milan, too. Next week. Business with a distributor."
"Really?"
"Really." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent on mine. "Maybe you'll let me take you to dinner. A proper dinner. Just the two of us."
I should have hesitated. Should have reminded him that I was still figuring things out, that my last relationship had ended less than a week ago, that I didn't know what I wanted.
Instead, I said: "Yes."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Yes?"
"Yes."
"You've figured it out, then? What you want?"
I shook my head honestly. "Not yet. I'm still figuring it out." I met his eyes. "But I want to. Figure it out, I mean. With you."
Something shifted in his expression. Warmth flooding in, hope blooming, softening every line of his face.
"Bella," he breathed.
He reached for me. His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone in a gesture that made my heart stutter.
"I've been thinking about you," he said quietly. "Since you ran away from me. Every day. Every hour."
"I'm sorry I ran."
"Don't be. You needed time. Space to think. I understand that, even if it was torture."
"I'm not running now."
"No." His smile was slow, devastating, filled with promise. "You're not."
He leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first. Gentle. His lips brushing mine like a question.
I answered by pressing closer, my hand finding the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric to pull him nearer.
He made a low sound and deepened the kiss. His other hand slid into my hair, cradling my head with careful reverence. I could taste champagne on his tongue, could feel the warmth of him radiating through his clothes.
The city glittered below us. The string lights swayed overhead. And I kissed Matteo Rossi on a rooftop in New York while the last light faded from the sky, and for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel confused.
I felt found.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he pressed his forehead to mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
"Milan," he said, his accent thick with emotion.
"Milan," I agreed.
"Dinner."
I nodded. "Dinner."
He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest where I could feel it.
"I can't wait, Bella."
I smiled against his lips, feeling something click into place inside my chest.
"Neither can I."