The meeting stretches longer than I planned, but every second feels meaningful. I leave with a sense of purpose I hadn’t expected to find today.
In the car, I dial Grace.
“Izzy!” she answers, surprised. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. But I need a favor…”
Her vacation excuse makes me roll my eyes, but it doesn’t matter. She’s in. And with her on board, this fundraiser is going to be more than an event—it’s going to shake the city.
Back home, my phone buzzes. A text from Dad. I swipe it away without reading it and open a new email instead.
To: Nate
Subject: Home and Heart
Hi Nate,
I found the perfect office and I’m sure you’ll love it. I’ll send you photos once I have the keys in hand.
Also… surprise—I recruited your mother for a WAVC charity event. Hope you don’t mind but I think she owes me some favors.
Heading home now. It’s been a long day. Can’t wait to curl up in your t-shirt and pretend you’re holding me.
Missing you more than I care to admit.
Love you always,
Izzy
Chapter 22
Isabel
It’s been another week since Nate left, and I still haven’t heard from him.
Not a call. Not a text. Not even a forwarded meme.
I stare down at my phone for what must be the hundredth time today, willing it to light up with his name. My inbox is empty. My messages are unread. The silence is louder than I expected it to be—and more unbearable.
Checking every few minutes doesn’t help, but I can’t seem to stop. It’s like a compulsion, a ritual of hope I cling to even though it hurts more each time I come up empty. I keep telling myself he’s probably just busy. He’s working. Focused. Saving lives, maybe.
I twist my wedding ring around my finger, slowly, as if the motion could settle the tornado inside my chest. But lately, even that’s lost its soothing power. Fidgeting only makes me more aware of how anxious I’ve become. My fingers tremble slightly, and I clench them into fists, digging my nails into my palms to feel something real—something grounded.
I want to scream. Loud. Long. The kind of scream that tears through the lungs and leaves your throat raw. I want to slam something. Maybe even throw my phone out the window and watch it shatter.
Instead, I force a breath in. Then another. I focus on the road ahead.
I’m on my way to approve the design for my new business cards—another step forward in this new life I’m building. One with my name on the door and not my father’s. My name. My rules.
Except even that victory feels hollow today. Because how do you celebrate when the one person you want to share it with is a ghost?
After the print shop, I have to meet Dad. Apparently, he wants to talk. Which is never good. That phrase always feels like code for: Let me remind you that you’re disappointing me again.
I already know what he’ll say. He wasn’t thrilled when he found out I was setting up my own firm. Not under his umbrella. Not under his name. It’s like I spat on his legacy or something. But I’m not his little puppet anymore. I won’t dance to the tune he whistles.
Still… there’s a tight coil in my stomach at the thought of seeing him. A part of me still hates the way he can make me feel like I’m five again, fumbling with words, desperate for his approval. I hate that I still care. That I want him to see me and not just some pretty daughter he can parade around in his carefully curated world.
I pull into the parking space near the print shop and shut off the engine, resting my forehead briefly against the steering wheel. Morris is right next to me. I should be used to having a driver but today I wanted to drive Nathan’s car.
