Page 92 of A Perfect Fit

“Thank you,” I say.

Once I’m inside my room, I force myself to brush my teeth and shower, my limbs feeling heavy. When I crawl into bed, I toss and turn, but sleep doesn’t come. Oliver’s words linger in my mind, taunting me.

“I wish you’d just listened to your mom and gone to law school instead.”

Would Jackson think I’m silly for pursuing my passions?

What are you talking about, Isabelle? He arranged a meeting with Liz for you.

Only because he felt sorry for you after you told him you barely sold any tickets for your fashion show.

I squeeze my eyes, trying to block out all the negative thoughts.

It’s as if there are two conflicting voices in my head—the angel and the devil, the optimist and the pessimist, the one imploring me to take a leap of faith and the one warning me to remain stagnant.

My phone dings with a new text.

Man of My Dreams

I wanted to share this in case it helps. It’s a playlist I listen to whenever I have trouble sleeping.

I open up the playlist, warmth filling my chest. Gentle, ambient piano music fills my room, calming down my thoughts.

My eyelids start to feel heavier, and eventually, I drift off to sleep.

At seven thirty a.m. the next morning, I stand near the hotel reception with my luggage. Jackson texted me that he had to head out for something and asked me to wait for him in the lobby before we checked out.

I rub my eyes, stifling a yawn. I’ve had about four hours of sleep, which isn’t ideal, but my plan is to buy a coffee at the airport.

As if on cue, Jackson strolls into the lobby, holding a paper bag in one hand. “Morning, sleepyhead.” He hands the bag to me as we meet with a tentative smile. “This is for you.”

Warmth fills my body, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s day. He always knows exactly what I need.

“Thank you.” I peer at the logo on the bag. “Bianca’s Bakery?”

Bianca’s Bakery is renowned in Chicago for its pastries and desserts. I wanted to try them, but didn’t think I’d get to during this trip since we were only staying for one night.

“Take a look inside,” he says with a grin.

I peer inside the bag and see two large strawberry jam doughnuts. “You are insane. Thank you.”

“Try it.”

Grabbing a doughnut, I take a bite, enjoying the sweet flavor. “This is so good,” I say with a mouthful. “Did you get anything for yourself, too?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’ve had coffee already.”

I frown. “But you need proper food as well, not just caffeine.” I gesture the bag to him. “You should have the other doughnut.”

“I’m okay. I’ll grab a bite at the airport later.” Jackson hesitates, as if contemplating his next words. “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from the lack of sleep, I’m feeling better,” I admit.

I mean it. Oliver ruined last night, but this morning, his words don’t hurt as much.

“I’m happy to hear that.” Jackson glances toward the elevators. “I just have to grab my luggage first, and then we can check out.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”