“I didn’t know what to expect going there. My cousin had told my father about finding me, but still. I had no idea they would all be so welcoming right away. It felt right being there. Like I’d found the missing pieces of my heart, except I didn’t realize they were missing until I was there.”
Her eyes grow distant, and I know she’s thinking of Italy. But I stay silent, waiting for her to continue.
“My grandmother, she was the one who taught me all of her old recipes. I think it was her way of distracting me from how much it hurt losing you.” She inhales slowly before continuing. “After…after we ended things. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to stay in Italy, and I also wanted to get on the next flight home to fix things with you. To beg you to still be my friend somehow. But my grandmother was the one to tell me that would be a mistake. That it wouldn’t be fair to you or to myself. She saidthat no matter how much I thought I loved you, something was missing in my soul, and I needed to stay, do what I planned to do and take the time to figure myself out.” She lets out a pained laugh. “Kind of funny that my mom and my dad’s mom both believed the same thing, even though they’ve never met. They both believed I needed to find my own way in life before I could be ready to love someone in a forever kind of way.”
That fucking stings. Hearing her talk about loving someone. Not me. Someone. My jaw clenches as I try to not react, to give her the space to continue.
“But I need you to know, I really did miss you.” Her voice takes on an urgent tone, and I look at her with what I hope is a reassuring smile as I give her hand a squeeze.
“It wasn’t an easy decision to stay. Not at all. It felt like it ripped my heart in two. But I believe, Ihadto believe, that it was the right choice. And I was happy.” She shakes her head. “No, Iamhappy. I love my life there. I cook at an amazing restaurant, I’ve connected with my family, and they’re wonderful. I can speak Italian and some French. I’ve explored so much of Europe with my cousins. I’m happy.”
She says that last bit emphatically, but I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince. Me or her.
“But I never stopped missing you.”
I squeeze her hand again. It’s the only response I can think of, my thoughts a jumbled mess.
A part of me wants to rage. If she missed me so much, then why the hell didn’t she come home? Or reach out? Or anything? But I know why. She didn’t do any of that because I told her not to. I cut her off, I deleted her social media accounts and her phone number. I couldn’t bring myself to block her, but I erased as much of her as I could while my heart shattered.
I clear my throat, aware she’s waiting for me to say something. “I’m glad you have a good life there. You deserve that.” I can’tbring myself to look at her. Instead, I tug my hand free and stand, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “C’mon. You don’t wanna miss the otter feeding.”
I take a step away. How can I still want someone who, no matter what she claims about missing me, clearly moved on and has an entire life that makes her incredibly happy — but doesn’t include me? I knew it would hurt, but damn. This is worse than I imagined.
“Kai,” she implores, and I can hear the heartache in her voice. I want to take it all away. But I don’t know if I can.
My eyes close. I take a breath. Fuck. I’m better than this. I asked her a question and she answered. I have no right to be mad about that. When I open my eyes, I fix them on her. “Yeah?”
She stares at me. I wait for her to push back, to blame me for cutting her out so thoroughly. To get mad at me for asking her about her life if the answer was going to make me act like such an asshole. But instead, her throat bobs up and down as she swallows, then she stands and moves to my side. “Nothing. Let’s go see the otters.”
We walk in silence to the otter habitat where a crowd has already formed around the glass walls. I point to a space that’s open, and Isabelle slides in front of me so she can see. Someone bumps me from behind, pushing me into her back, and my hands shoot out and grab hold of her hips to stabilize myself.
“Sorry,” I mutter. Every cell of my body is hyperaware of how close I am to her right now. If I lean down just an inch or two, my lips would graze the top of her ear. She turns her head slightly, so I can see her long, soft, dark eyelashes flutter.
“It’s fine.”
I swear, I must be imagining it when I feel her body press back into mine ever so slightly. She shifts away before I say anything, and the trainers begin their presentation on the rescued sea otters currently diving and swimming around in front of us. Theridiculously cute animals bring a smile to everyone’s faces, and I can feel Isabelle’s body shake with restrained laughter when one in particular swims past with a ball on its stomach.
When the show is over, rain is starting to fall. The people around us disperse quickly, heading inside or to one of the covered areas to look at more sea creatures. But Iz and I, through some unspoken agreement, stay there watching the otters continue to play, our bodies close to each other.
I think — no, I hope — she’s processing what we shared earlier, the same way I am. There’s a lot of pain between us, and even though I’m shit with words and don’t know what to say, it feels like every time we talk, a little bit more of the weight I’ve carried on my heart for eight years floats away.
It’s only when I see her shiver that I step away. “C’mon, we should get out of the rain.”
We exit the aquarium and make our way back to our cars as the rain begins to pick up. We reach her rental first, and I find myself not ready for today to end. No matter how confused I feel, I still crave more of her. And I probably owe her an apology for walking away when she told me about Italy.
“Want to come back to my place to dry off and have something to eat?” I lift a hand to brush away the wetness from her cheek, not missing the way she tips her head into my palm as she nods.
“Sure,” she answers quietly, looking up at me, raindrops coating her lashes.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
I don’t. But I want to. She’s just so beautiful, standing here in the pouring rain, looking up at me like I somehow hold the answers to every question.
Little does she know, I only have more questions that might never get answers.
Chapter twelve
Isabelle
