“You can’t be serious.”
“As the fucking dead.”
“When? No one said anything about you getting married.”
I look back at Isabelle who, from the look on her face, isn’t happy with me right now. I hold my hand out to her and hope and pray she takes it so my story is believable. She does. “That’s because I just asked her yesterday.”
Ivy looks Isabelle over then back at me. “You’re lying. She’s not wearing a ring.”
“It’s getting resized.” Shit, that was damn good thinking on my part.
I remain silent, as does Isabelle. I wait for the next piece of bullshit that comes out of Ivy’s mouth, and I don’t have to wait long. “This is all bullshit.” She points to me then back at herself. “You and me, we’re not over.”
“Honey—” I lean in closer. “—we were over the second you drove down my driveway and out of our lives. It’s true what they say, you can’t go home, not after you fucked over your family like you did.”
“I didn’t. I was trying to make—”
“A better life for Andi? Isn’t that what you said?”
Ivy nods.
“She’s got a very good life. I’m a millionaire, Ivy.” Most of that wealth comes from the land, but she doesn’t need to know that. I scratch my chin. “Oh, and do you want to know what’s better than that?” I pause for emphasis. “Having a parent around who loves and cares for his child. That’s fucking priceless.”
“Good to know, Nash.” Ivy looks pleased, and it pisses me off. Before I know it, Ivy’s on top of the bar in a flash. “Hey!” she yells out at the crowd. “Let’s all raise our glasses to Izzy and Nash. They’re getting married!”
That bitch.
The crowd turns our way like it was choreographed. Then the cheers and clapping begin. I feel her. Isabelle has stepped closer to me. I look down at her, expecting to see a smile, but that’s not what I get. I see hurt and anger. “Isabelle.”
“I’m leaving,” she says, turning on her heel. I do what I can to salvage the mess by waving at the crowd as I follow her out the back door into the alley. Once outside, the smoke from the tobacco users hits me square in the face. Waving away the white mist, I see Isabelle walking at a fast clip up the alley in the direction of my truck. I jog to catch up to her. Not knowing what to say, I start with “Isabelle?”
“Not here,” she snaps.
I listen to her because, honestly, I’ve never seen her like this. I hit the locks on the truck and watch Isabelle open the door and step up into the truck. I do the same on my side. I quickly start the engine but wait to put it into drive.
“Just drive.”
I put it into gear and pull away from the curb. We’re both silent, except I swear I hear her sniffling. Shit. Did I make her cry? “Isabelle?”
“How could you?” Her voice is shaky. I look over at her as she wipes at her cheek angrily. “How could you do something like that at Sisters?”
“I didn’t….”
“You didn’t what, Nash? Think? My parents are going to hear about this. Hell, they probably already heard. How are you going to undo it?”
“Undo it?” Why would I undo it?
I look over at her and see her glaring at me. “Yes, Nash, undo it.”
I can see where she’s coming from, I really can, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. I mean, she’s perfect for me. She isn’t after my money. She adores my kid. She’s beautiful, kind, and sweet, and she loves farm life. I couldn’t have chosen better. “Why undo it?”
Her sniffles turn to full-on sobs. “What’s wrong, Isabelle?” It can’t be that terrible thinking of being married to me, right? “I’m not so bad. You could do worse. Lord knows I could do worse.”
Her sobs are getting louder. I’m not saying the right thing. “You’ll make a good wife.”
“Stop the truck,” she yells.
I guess that wasn’t the right thing either.
