“Isabelle.”
I wait for him to say more. And wait. And wait. I feel my eyes start to burn with tears, so instead of letting him hear me, I hang up the phone. There’s no point in listening to the man breathe on the other end of the line.
I turn off all the lights, make sure the front door is locked, switch off the television, and head up to my bedroom. I’m really tired, but I know this attempt at going to bed is going to be fruitless. Maybe I should take something to help me sleep. I shake my head. I have to get up in the morning, and I don’t want to be groggy. Slipping off my leggings, I get beneath my covers and find the only spot on my old bed that’s comfortable. I breathe in the clean scent of my sheets and sigh again. “I did the right thing.” I chant that to myself a few more times, and the repetition helps lull me into sleep. Thank goodness.
* * *
“Isabelle.”It sounds like someone is whispering in my ear. It must be a dream. I feel the bed squeak and jostle about, then, “Isabelle.” Someone’s hand touches my face gently, and soft lips kiss my mouth. “Wake up, Isabelle.”
“Nash?” It sure sounds like him.
“Baby, wake up.”
I blink a few times until I see his silhouette. The light from the hallway is making it hard to see his face. All I know is he’s lying next to me in my bed. “How did you get in here?” I mean, I locked the front door.
“Back door. You need to lock up at night, babe. You never know who’ll sneak in.”
I should be angry right now, but all I do is laugh at his words. “Someone like you?”
“Exactly.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here to tell you what I was about to say on the phone––right before you hung up on me.”
I grumble, “You were taking forever. That’s never good.”
“Well, I had to try to say it right. I couldn’t just blurt out that I love you too and that I’ve probably loved you since I saw you at Isaac’s wedding and that I told your brother I’d leave you alone, but then you moved back here and that’s it. I knew you had to be mine, but I fucked up, and look where we are.”
I start to giggle because he said all that without taking a breath. “You love me?”
“Not just love you, Isabelle. I adore you. I worship you. I’ve never known anyone like you, and I’m in awe of you. I’m not good enough, which means I don’t deserve you.”
“Nash—” He places his finger over my lips.
“But I decided that’s the way it will always be, and I can live with that. You’re going to have to put up with a man who isn’t worthy. It’ll take patience and kindness on your part, both of which you have in abundance, so I think we’ll be okay. You’ll get tired of the pedestal I’ve placed you on but, again, you’ll have to figure out a way to cope.”
I want to laugh again, but the way he’s talking to me sounds so sincere, sweet.
“You love me?” I know I shouldn’t keep asking, but I need to hear it.
“I love you, Isabelle Renee Harmon, with everything I’ve got.”
I’ve got to keep myself from crying and ruining this moment, so I lift my head and kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate. Before I know it, I’m on my back and Nash is above me. I open my legs to make room for him, and my body feels charged, alive. Not only that, it’s like… it’s like he’s supposed to be right there. Yeah, I know that sounds hokey, but it’s true. For the first time in my life, I can breathe.
“Isabelle,” he says right before he kisses my cheek, then my nose, both eyelids, and down the other side. He picks his head up and stares down at me. Luckily, the light glowing from the hallway lets me see him. I wouldn’t want to miss this, not for all the tea in England. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.”
“No, not just recently. I mean, mywholelife.You’rewhat’s been missing.”
“Oh.” Shit. That does it. The waterworks. I did my best to avoid them, but it can’t be helped. That, right there, what Nash just said, it’s what girls like me dream about.
“Shh, don’t cry, honey,” he coos. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I shake my head, because if I try to talk right now, I’ll sound like Yoda. So, I lean up and kiss him again. I use my hand to wipe off the tears that I just smushed onto his face, and I kiss him again. And again. Until we’re making out like teens in the back seat of a car. Except we’re not in a car. We’re in my bed. My squeaky, tiny bed. No matter. We’re alone, and that’s all that matters. Wait… I pull back and ask, “Where’s Andi?”
“Mom’s with her at the house.”
