29. Isabella
Iwoke up with a determination that felt foreign yet necessary. Today was the day I needed to reach out to Max, to clear the air and confront whatever was brewing between us. The uncertainty of it all had been gnawing at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to make things right.
Lyingin bed, I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and resolve. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, its screen lighting up the dim room. Drafting the text took longer than I expected, each word weighed down by the gravity of what I was about to do. I settled on something simple yet direct:
Isabella: Hey, Max, can we grab lunch today? There are some things I feel like I need to clear the air on.
Ihit send before I could second-guess myself. The message was delivered, leaving me in a state of suspense. I tossed the phone aside and got out of bed, trying to shake off the jitters.
Themorning passed in a blur. I busied myself with WanderLand tasks, but my mind kept drifting back to Max and the impending conversation. When the response finally came, my anxiety eased enough to trick myself into thinking the conversation would be easy.
Max: Would love to meet up. CafeLune at 1?
CaféLune was a quaint, cozy spot tucked away on a quiet street, its charm accentuated by the warm lighting and rustic décor. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of pastries, creating an inviting atmosphere. I had been here once before, lured in by their reputation for the city’s best almond croissants. The flaky, buttery layers had left a lasting impression, and it was a perfect spot for a quiet, uninterrupted conversation.
AsI walked into CaféLune, the familiar scent of espresso and pastries offered a small comfort. Max was already there, sitting at a corner table, looking casually handsome as always. His presence commanded the room, and my heart skipped a beat as our eyes met.
“Hey,” I greeted, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.
“Hi, Isabella,” Max replied, his eyes searching mine. There was a warmth there, but also a hint of caution.
Itook a seat across from him, my hands fidgeting in my lap. The initial small talk felt awkward but necessary. We spoke about inconsequential things until the weight of the unspoken filled the space between us.
Takinga deep breath, I broke the silence. “Max, I’ve been doing some thinking about the MirageGuild and my involvement there. I haven’t made any decisions yet, but I’m considering stepping back.”
Helooked at me, his face a blend of understanding and mild surprise. “Oh? I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’ve just been so wrapped up with WanderLust lately—I landed three new events at my parents’ place alone. It’s getting to the point where I might not be able to give Mirage the attention it deserves. I should’ve brought this up with you sooner,” I admitted.
“I never expected you to stick around forever,” Max said, his voice soft but carrying a weight of acceptance.
Mybreath hitched. That was the crux of all of this, wasn’t it? ClassicIzzy of being flighty and never sticking around in one place for too long, afraid to put down some roots. AndMax had seen it from a mile away and I’d proved him right.
“Isabella.” Max’s stern tone forced me to glance up from the swirling caramel-colored liquid in my mug. “Stop swimming around in your head. Talk to me.”
Thewords tumbled out of me then, a mix of honesty and vulnerability I hadn’t planned on revealing. I told him about my confusion after seeing him with Ana, and how it made me question everything about what we had—or didn’t have. I spoke of my fears, my insecurities about being alone and refusing to settle, and how all of it had clouded my judgment.
Italked about all the big dreams Ido have and how I’m afraid I might scare away anyone who wants to be with me because I long to achieve them all right now. I shared my goals for WanderLust and how Ireally wanted to buy that brownstone in WashingtonSquare and fix it up. HowI yearned to get married and throw an amazing party and have babies and have fun.
Maxlistened quietly, his gaze never leaving mine.
“And so when it came to you, to us,” I said, “I—you’re so much younger than me, Max. You’re at a totally different place in life and you want different things. It’s not fair for me to rush you into being a grown-up just because of where I’m at.”
Maxtook a deep breath. “I know we didn’t have a traditional courting phase, or whatever it’s called, but if we had, we would’ve talked about these things. I would’ve shared with you that Ana made me feel like I was never good enough, that nothing I did was ever serious enough for her, and how that made me feel like shit.
“I would’ve told you,” he continued, “that I’ve had my grandmother’s ring in a small box in the back of my sock drawer for three years ready to pull it out for the right person. You would’ve discovered that I had to learn how to drywall when I was fifteen because our laundry room flooded into our kitchen and we couldn’t afford to rent it out, so I’m really handy in renos.”
Hereached across the table, his hand tentatively covering mine. “We just didn’t get to have those conversations because, well, we were busy doing other things,” he said with a smirk.
Igrinned back at him. “You’re right, I didn’t know those things,” I said.
“I know that beautiful brain is going a million miles an hour with all the what-if scenarios that could happen but what do you want?” he asked.
“You’ve been the only person who has been able to shut off the buzzing in my brain, the flutter in my chest when I get overwhelmed . . . seriously, just looking at you eases something here,” I said, tapping my chest.
“I want,” I continued, “to see what doing this life with you would look like.”
Maxgrinned from across the table, his hands still covering mine. “I’d love to see what doing this life would look like, too,” he replied.
“AllI ask moving forward,” Max continued, “is that you talk to me about your concerns, Isabella. I know you can achieve every single thing on your to-do list in life by yourself, but you’ll have way more fun if you share that with someone. Specifically, with me.” He shrugged his shoulders in mock modesty. “I know you’re used to taking care of yourself, but watching you come undone when that beautiful brain finally shuts off has been the highlight of my year.”
Heatflooded my face as I remembered how well Max played that role.
Hiswords, sincere and heartfelt, washed over me like a soothing balm. Maybe we didn’t have all the answers, but the possibility of exploring this—whatever this was—with Max suddenly felt like a risk worth taking.
Iintertwined my fingers with his as we stretched across the linen tablecloth. His thumb rubbed small circles over the back of my hand as the nerves in my belly settled. A piece of me, deep down inside, was telling me that this man was made for me. His calmness helped reflect my anxiety away long enough so I could get a chance to think straight.
Inhis ease, I was able to see clearly and breathe calmly. He anchored me when my brain wanted to sail me away in a wind of overthinking. He’d been nothing but supportive of every idea I’d shared or dream I revealed. I was committed to not letting my brain trick me out of this one again.
“Okay, so for the sake of just getting it all out there,” I said. “My goal is to buy that brownstone this year and get married next year. Ideally, I’d like to start trying for babies, well pretty much immediately, given my age, but we can get on the same page about that. I’ll be knocking on forty’s door sooner than I realize but there’s not much I can do about that.”
Iswallowed the excuses for why that probably didn’t work for him I wanted to hurl his way. Excuses he could pick up and read off like a cue card as the reason this was all too much for him.
“When do you want to go look at the house?” he asked. “That way we can see how much work it’s really going to need.”
Ilaughed and shook my head. “We might get to look at it now. I know it’s empty and the agent is a family friend,” I said, pulling out my cell phone to text my mom for Sandra’s number. Mom replied quickly with her contact information.
Isent the text to Sandra, feeling a buzz of excitement mixed with nerves. She responded immediately, giving us the go-ahead to visit the brownstone.
“Looks like we can go now,” I said, standing up. “Sandra just sent me the code to let ourselves in. She warned that the place is a mess, so we’ll have to look past that.”
Maxgrinned, his eyes lighting up. “I love messes,” he said as he stood.
Weleft the café, hand in hand, and I felt an unexpected sense of comfort settle over me. The streets of NewYork were bustling with activity, but in Max’s presence, everything seemed a bit more serene, a bit more manageable.
Thewalk to the brownstone was filled with light conversation and comfortable silence. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden hue over the city, adding a picturesque quality to the day. Leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and the sounds of the city played a soft, rhythmic backdrop to our stroll. For the first time since leaving my globe-trotting days, I felt content.
Approachingthe brownstone, I was struck by its potential. The building had a classic charm, with its aged brick fa?ade and the promise of hidden stories within its walls. It stood proudly among its neighbors, a testament to the enduring beauty of old NewYork architecture.
“This is it,” I said, gesturing toward the building. “It needs a lot of love, but I can see it being transformed into something really special.”
Maxpeered up at the brownstone, his expression thoughtful. “It’s got character, that’s for sure. I can already see your touch on it. Let’s take a look inside.”
Wemade our way up the steps, and I punched in the code Sandra had provided, 0104, with Max peering over my shoulder.
“0104?” he asked. “Hmm, that’s my birthday.” He side-eyed me with a grin as we stepped forward.
Thedoor creaked open, revealing the dusty, untouched interior of the brownstone. We stepped inside, and I was immediately struck by the potential of the space, despite the layer of neglect.
Aswe walked through the double-door foyer and into the front entrance hall, my eyes sparkled with the potential. Stairs led up to the second floor and underneath layers of dust and old paint was, undoubtedly, a charming wooden railing. To our right was a small sitting room with a pocket door that hung haphazardly from its track and to our left was a dining room that had peeling red paint hanging in strips.
“Perhaps some water damage here, but we can fix that,” Max said as he poked and tapped at the walls.
Aswe explored each room on the lower level, we discussed possibilities and ideas, and the vision of what could be took shape in my mind. The high ceilings, the spacious rooms, and even the worn-out floorboards seemed to whisper promises of a future filled with love and laughter.
Wetentatively took the worn-out steps up to the second level and glimpsed into bedrooms where trash was piled in the corners. Intricately carved trim lay hidden beneath layers of dirt and the wooden floors creaked beneath our feet. Max kept assessing walls with a tap of his knuckles as I pushed open the door to the room at the end of the hall.
“Oh, my gosh, look at this, Max,” I said as my breath hitched in my throat. A gorgeous fireplace flanked one wall of what must be the primary bedroom.
“Wow, that’s incredible. I bet if I scraped this paint off, we’d find marble,” Max replied. “It has to match the one downstairs in that small room at the back. You should use that one for your office, it will get really good morning sun since it faces east.”
Ismiled at the implication of his words. I glanced at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. The realization that he was envisioning a future with me here, in this space, filled me with a sense of warmth and possibility.
Aswe stood there, in what could one day be our bedroom, the significance of the moment wasn’t lost on me. Max’s vision for the house wasn’t just about renovations and décor—it was about us, about a life we could build together. It was both exhilarating and grounding, a feeling of coming home not just to a place, but to a person.
“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” I said, my voice tinged with a mixture of awe and excitement.
Maxwrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “We do, but think of all the memories we’ll create turning this house into a home,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
Ileaned back into his embrace, allowing myself to fully absorb the weight and beauty of his words. Here, in this dilapidated brownstone that held so much potential, I saw a future I hadn’t dared to imagine before—one filled with love, laughter, and the shared joy of creating something beautiful together.
Aswe left the brownstone, locking the door behind us, I felt a profound sense of rightness. The path ahead was uncertain and would undoubtedly be filled with challenges, but for the first time, I wasn’t facing it alone. WithMax by my side, I felt capable of facing whatever came our way.