Page 135 of A Perfect Fit

“Thanks,” I mutter. “Did I miss anything important at work?”

Aaron hesitates. “We lost the client deal with Williams Industries this afternoon.”

Shit. My rescheduled meeting with Peter. This is my fault.

“But it’s okay,” Aaron quickly adds, exchanging a look with Isabelle. “I mean, after what happened.”

My stomach does a turn. I can’t tell whether it’s from the drinks or what I’m hearing now. Aaron and Isabelle probably know now—about me being Andrew’s son. I wonder if they think any differently of me.

Isabelle’s eyes are soft as they meet mine. “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just go home.”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod.

I don’t protest as Aaron and Isabelle help me outside the bar and inside a cab. The journey home is quiet, with Aaron making small talk with the cab driver every now and then. Isabelle is also silent as she laces her fingers with mine.

“I’ll take over from here,” Isabelle says to Aaron once we arrive at my apartment. “Thanks, Aaron.”

“No problem.” Aaron takes out a cell phone from his pocket. “You left your phone inside your office. Sorry for all the spam messages and phone calls. I’ll hand it to Isabelle for now.” He gives my phone to Isabelle and turns to me. “Rest up, man. We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

After Aaron heads off, Isabelle leads me to my bedroom. I kick off my shoes and don’t resist her help when she takes off my tie and suit jacket.

My mouth feels dry as I lie down on my bed, closing my eyes and placing a hand on my forehead. I can’t remember the last time I got drunk like this before.

Isabelle places my phone on the nightstand. “I’m going to get you some water,” she says, giving me a weak smile.

She exits the room, and I hesitate before rolling over to check my phone, curiosity getting the better of me.

Fifty missed notifications.

The majority are missed calls and texts from Aaron, Isabelle, and my mom, but there’s also a message from the florist, informing me the bouquet I ordered was ready for pickup.

I drop my phone on the nightstand.

Fuck.

Our one-month anniversary.

I was supposed to grab the flowers, pick Isabelle up for our dinner date, and then reveal my surprise about Disneyland to her. Instead, I forgot about all those things because I was too busy drowning my sorrows in alcohol.

Not only was I a terrible son, but I’m also a horrible boyfriend.

Footsteps resound as Isabelle returns, handing a glass of water to me. I chug the water down before placing the glass on the nightstand.

“I’m so sorry,” I rasp. “Today was our one-month anniversary, and I ruined everything. I⁠—”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Isabelle firmly says. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I got so scared when you didn’t answer my calls, and Aaron said he had no idea where you were either.”

My stomach twists. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“Stop apologizing, Jackson.” Isabelle stares into my eyes, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I’m here for you. Tell me if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Stay with me,” I murmur. “Don’t go.”

Her face softens. “Of course.”

Two simple words, but they mean everything to me.