I wait a second. Or maybe it was closer to fifteen. She huffs a breath out, then rolls over to face me. I smile.
“Thank you.” I kiss her nose. “This thing with Ivy—”
She starts to roll back over, but I hold her closer. “No, let me say all this. Then, if you still want to give me your back, I’m fine with that.” Isabelle stays put. “I’ll start over. This thing with you and me started long before Ivy came back to town.” I run my hand over her silky hair. It’s still a little damp from her shower, but it’s mostly dry. “And you know it.”
She looks into my eyes but says nothing.
“All it did, when Ivy got here, was label it.” This stubborn woman is still silent—not that there’s anything for her to say. “I know I shouldn’t have announced to everyone at the bar that we were engaged—”
“You mean everyone in town,” she says in a husky voice.
“Same difference.” I chuckle. “That was wrong of me. But part of me wanted to believe it was possible.”
“Possible? What do you mean? Possible that you’d want to marryme?”
I don’t like the way she worded that. “No, that it was possible thatyou’dmarry me.”
“Here’s a tip for you, Nash.” God, I wish she didn’t sound so mad at me. “If you want to marry someone, ask them, even if it’s just pretend. Don’t just shout it to the drunks at the local bar and expect it to happen. Proposals take time and planning.Everyoneknows that. Otherwise, it’s not special, and that means the other person isn’t special. He or she is just there to make things easier for you, and that’s all she’ll ever be. Convenient.”
What the fuck?Those words didn’t just come out of her mouth. She’s thought about them. A lot.
Nowshe rolls over. “Good night, Nash.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
Turning back, her eyes tell me everything I need to know. “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. Besides, it’s past Andi’s bedtime.” But she’s not done. “I meant what I said about cooking for me. And don’t worry, I’ll tell my dad that you’ve done as youpromised. No worries there.”
God, she’s pissing me off.
I can tell this just isn’t the time to talk, so I slide out of her tiny bed as the thing moans like it’s on its last leg.
She definitely needs a new bed.Mine.
30
Isabelle
I can’t sleep.How can I when everything that happened tonight crushed me? There were too many signs that this thing with Nash was all an illusion, and that was before. All tonight did was finally make me recognize that whatever was between me and Nash was just a figment of my imagination. And that sucks.
Blinking, I try to get my clock into focus and groan when I see the time is 3:15 a.m. I’m so damn tired. And hungry. I should have eaten dinner, but I couldn’t seem to choke down the pity food Nash made me.
Don’t get me wrong, I know my dad meant well and, probably, so did Nash, but knowing the only reason he was being nice to me was because my dad asked him to? Well, that just broke me. For over a week, I’d get done with work and skip back up to the house because I knew he’d be here, waiting for me. And no, it wasn’t about the food, because the mancannotcook. Nope. Not a lick. But I ate it because I thought he was doing his best because he cared aboutme.
Nope.
He did it out of obligation to the farming brotherhood. Bruce Harmon asked him to feed his daughter, so he did. Period. Full stop. That’s all there was to it.
Placing my palm over my heart, I push on my chest to try to get it to stop hurting. It doesn’t work. I feel the burn of tears again, but I shake it off. “I’m done crying.” Sliding out of bed, I search for my slippers. It’s getting colder outside, which means it’s colder in the house. I should turn on the furnace, but I’m not ready to give up just yet. Finding one slipper by the closet and the other beneath my bed, I slide them on and make my way down to the kitchen. “Cereal.” That sounds good. I hope we still have some. I need to get to the store; I just haven’t had the time.
Flipping on the kitchen light switch, I let my eyes adjust. I blink a few times and notice that the kitchen is all cleaned up. I’m relieved. It was nice of him to do that, even though I asked him not to. But Nash does what he wants. I know that for sure.
At the fridge, I pull out the milk and set it on the kitchen island. As I turn toward the pantry, I see it. A note.
Great.
Picking it up, I see most of it is written in Nash’s hand, but there’s a section at the end from Andi. I read hers first.
Izzy,
