Page 50 of His Secret Wish

“I can see how much he loves you.”

Isabella turned back to Yaya. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“Oh, mi tesoro, that is everything.”

Isabella’s eyes burned again, this time filling with tears. “There’s so much between us. I don’t know if it’s possible.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the backs of her fingers.

“You’re afraid.” It wasn’t a question, just a quiet statement Isabella couldn’t deny.

Isabella sat with that information for a moment, wiping away another tear. “I’m terrified, Yaya. It was so hard the first time, I don’t know if I would survive if it didn’t work out again.”

“Oh, sweet girl, of course you would.” Yaya squeezed her hand again. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But let me ask you this? What if it didn’t end this time?”

“I—“ Isabella snapped her mouth shut. Took a breath, trying to get her thoughts ordered. In all the times she’d thought about it this weekend, she’d always imagined the doom and gloom that would ensue when they separated again. She’d never considered it actually working out. “I don’t know.”

“And that’s something you need to think about. Because a love like the one you two share, doesn’t come around twice in a lifetime.” There was a sadness in Yaya’s gaze that made Isabella’s breath catch. Clearly, there was something more there. Something Yaya clearly felt passionate about.

Did Yaya have a secret? Maybe a secret love? Isabella knew her great grandparents had loved each other very much, and she’d never guessed Yaya might have had a love before Papa.

“I will, Yaya, I promise.” And she meant it, although she wasn’t sure it would be happening tonight. Tonight, she had plans that didn’t involve thinking about the past or the future. Only the present. Just like she and Owen had promised each other.

Isabella stood and placed another kiss on her great grandmother’s cheek.

Yaya smiled. “Te amo.”

“Te amo, Yaya.”

Isabella’s aunt Trudy came up to speak to Yaya, so Isabella stepped away. It seemed everyone was going to have a one on one with the guest of honor. It made Isabella’s heart ache, although she wasn’t exactly sure why. She wiped her cheeks one last time, making sure there was no evidence of her tears left. What she needed was a drink.

Walking over to the bar, she gave the bartender they’d hired a smile. “Prosecco, please.”

“Coming right up.” The bartender poured her a flute of the sparkling wine and pushed it across the bar.

Isabella nodded at the bartender and then moved to a space against the edge of the tent. Out of the way, but close enough to watch everyone.

The dance floor was hopping, her relatives and friends whooping it up like only they could. She was happy to see everyone having such a good time. It would be nice if she felt the same, but since her talk with Yaya, she was feeling fidgety and restless. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

But then again, nothing about this weekend did.

Her gaze strayed to Owen, who was huddled with some other men, probably discussing something like football or farming or horses. None of which appealed to her. Now, if they were talking hockey...

“Would you like to dance?”

She turned toward Ben. He’d moved in next to her, his hands in his pockets. His blond hair was pushed back from his face, like he, or someone else, had run their fingers through it. The navy suit he wore was a little wrinkled, more than just regular wear and tear would dictate. Looked like he and Suzanne had been a little busy.

“I’d love to,” she said, placing her glass on a nearby table, and trying, and failing, not to smirk.

He ducked his head, looking sheepish, but held out his hand. She laughed and took it, letting him lead her on to the dance floor. The song had a great beat, and she swayed to the music, letting it flow through her. Ben kept up, nice and light on his feet. He was a really good dancer.

All too soon the song came to an end. One of the problems with starting partway through.

“Thank you,” she said, patting his arm.

He grabbed her hand. “One more?”

The first strains of the new song started. “Sure.”

He pulled her toward him. The song was a slow one, so all the couples around them were holding each other close. She placed her hand on his arm, their other hands still clasped. He put his hand on her waist. It was a typical dance hold, nothing overt or sexual about it.