Page 147 of A Perfect Fit

Aaron turns to me. “Do you love Isabelle?”

I hate hearing the tentative tone in Aaron’s voice, the way he’s phrasing it as a question instead of anything other than the truth—the simple, only truth.

“Of course I do,” I growl, leaping out of my seat.

Both Aaron’s and Jen’s eyes are as wide as saucers at my reaction.

It’s the first time that admission has come out of my mouth or even crossed my mind, but it sounds so right when I say it out loud.

So fucking right.

I love her.

I’m so hopelessly, madly, completely in love with Isabelle Curtis-Wong.

“Isabelle’s everything to me.” My voice wavers. “Everything. You think I’m not hurting, too? Letting her go was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I told myself it was the right decision.”

I drag a hand through my hair, completely disheveling it as I pace up and down my living room. “You think I haven’t thought about reaching out to her? I have. Every day. More times than I can fucking count. But each time I wrote a text, I deleted it before I could hit Send. I restrained myself from reaching out because I knew if I did, I’d lose all my control and do anything—everything—to pull her back into my arms.” I shake my head. “I hate myself for breaking her heart, remember that pained look on her face. And I wanted to be in a better position, both mentally and career-wise, before I allowed myself to even contemplate the possibility of winning her back. Because there’s no one else I’ll love other than her.”

Silence hovers in the air once again, a stark contrast to my loudly thudding heart and rapid breaths. I’m panting as though I just ran the marathon.

Aaron and Jen don’t say anything, but their faces soften.

Aaron’s the first to break the silence. “No one’s perfect, dude.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder. “You’re amazing for Isabelle as you are. I’m pretty sure she sees that already. The question is, can you see it for yourself, too?”

“The ball’s in your court now, Jackson,” Jen adds. “Ultimately, we can’t tell you what to do or not do. Only you can make that decision for yourself.”

Aaron’s and Jen’s words linger in my head, long after they leave my apartment.

My heart races again, a zillion thoughts washing over me.

I thought I was doing the right thing by letting Isabelle go, so that I didn’t drag her down with me while I spiraled. But … was it the wrong call?

I sit on the couch, pressing my palms into the plush material and squeezing my eyes shut.

If I dig deeper, what am I really scared of?

Burdening Isabelle? Yes.

But maybe there’s more to it than that.

Maybe I’m scared to let her see me as weak. Vulnerable. Incompetent. Not the polished, put-together version I usually am.

But she already saw all those messy and ugly parts of me the first day I found out about Mom and Andrew and the several days following that. And she stayed with me, cared for me through all of it.

I head back to my bedroom, picking up the floor plan of the dream house I sketched, my eyes zeroing in on the fashion studio and library.

When I picture my life in five, ten, twenty years, two things are clear.

The first is doing what I love, and that’s architecture.

And the second is spending it with the woman I love.

The room feels like it’s shrinking around me as my head spins, my breaths punctuating the air.

Fuck.

I messed up. Immensely. I pushed away the most important person in my life and the best thing that’d ever happened to me.