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Chapter Eighteen
Isabella
I push my chair closer to the desk and drum my fingers against the wood. “You do know this isn’t about money, right?”
Anita is moving from one end of the room to the next, folding clothes and tugging on the edges of the bedcovers. She stops behind my chair and places a hand on my shoulders. “As I said, there’s plenty of money if you need anything. All you have to do is ask.”
I twist to face Anita and look up at her beautiful face. “I know, but I need something to fill the time.”
And I know I can’t rely on their good graces forever. It’s been a month since Carter left, and in that time, he’s shown no indication that he wants to come back. After our run-in at the bar a week ago, I’ve called him a few times since, but I’ve received nothing but silence in return.
But nothing hurts as much as his cruel dismissal at the bar. Watching as he went out of his way to ignore me and then force Sam to take me away still stings.
Every night, I toss and turn, and I replay the look on his face as he stepped away from me and barked out an order at Sam. And every night, I hear his sharp intake of breath when I move closer, and I see the myriad of emotions dancing across his face. A part of me wants to believe that sending me away was as hard for me as it was for him, but the other part of me isn’t sure anymore.
A man like Carter has to be laser sharp and focused at all times. Especially if the rumors about him losing control are true.
Anita has remained quiet about the matter, only giving me the bare minimum when it comes to information, and since Sam and I still aren’t on the best of terms, I have no one else to ask.
It kills me to know I’m on the outside looking in. I hate not knowing what Carter is thinking or which direction he’s leaning toward.
Because the longer I’m cooped up at Anita’s, with the same four walls and nothing but my thoughts to keep me warm at night, the more paranoid and anxious I become.
Has he found another brunette to share his bed, one who doesn’t have my complications?
I shove the thought away and tell myself that Carter has proven himself over and over, but a tiny voice remains, reminding me of all the things I still don’t know about the man I love. As Anita gives my shoulder another squeeze, I turn my attention back to the screen in front of me. Then Carter’s aunt exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Outside, I hear music wafting from the window upstairs. With a frown, I glance up at the ceiling and sigh.
Then my laptop screen blares to life, a bright white light that momentarily blinds me. When the spots clear, I push myself closer, and my fingers hover over the mouse. It isn’t long before I have everything set up, leaving me with nothing else to fill the time. Reluctantly, I stand up, walk over to the window, and stick my head out.
A waft of cold air caresses my face, smelling like freshly cut grass and wildflowers. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale.
More music wafts out, interrupting the silence. When I tilt my head up and lean forward, I can barely make out anything. Abruptly, the music is switched off, plunging me into silence again. I retreat into the room, bolt the window shut, and wander over to my chair.
On the desk, there’s a mug of hot tea, wisps of steam rising up from it.
I sit back down on my chair, pull the blanket over my lap, and curl my fingers around the mug. After a few more sips, my laptop pings, startling me out of my reprieve. Slowly, I set the mug back down on the coaster and toss my hair over my shoulders. On the laptop screen, a box comes to life, revealing a dark-haired kid with pimples scattered across his cheeks and too-large wire-framed glasses.
“Ms. Julis?”
“Yes, hi.” I glance down at the sheet in front of me and squint at the name. “Shihaz, is it? Did I pronounce that right?”
Shihaz nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
I laugh and glance back up at his face. “There’s no need to call me, ma’am. Online classes are a little less formal than that.”
Shihaz doesn’t say anything, his face half-lit up by the glow of the laptop but giving nothing away.
I clear my throat. “Well, anyway, I understand that you’re looking to improve your language and accent, so I’m going to be helping you with that.”
Without waiting for a reply, I immediately launch into my lesson plan.
While I have no idea what sparked the idea in the first place, after some digging, Anita managed to find me an education platform that was in desperate need of online teachers. Although I am far from qualified and have never taught anyone anything before, I know it’s better than nothing. Being able to help other people is a far better alternative to sitting around all day, trying to figure out a way to pass the time in between my naps.
The truth is I’m no closer to finding out when Carter is coming back. Or if he’s ever going to come back, in spite of what his family says. No one else seems to know what he’s planning, and even Tristan seems on edge.
Not being able to control the bad things that happen to me is one thing, but figuring out a way to navigate unfamiliar terrain in the best way that I can is another. I want to feel useful and productive, and since I can’t work on Carter’s construction plans for the docks, giving English classes online is the next best thing.
