Page 94 of A Perfect Fit

Chapter Twenty-Five

ISABELLE

“Emily from Washington ordered ten items!” I say, reading my latest order off my phone. The last time I had an order this big was a few months ago. “I can’t believe it.”

“Woo-hoo!” Jen exclaims, clapping her hands. “That’s my best friend.”

We’re sitting on our living room floor, surrounded by stacks of clothes, compostable mailers, and tissue paper, packing orders for my business.

“It’s thanks to Jackson’s marketing ideas,” I say. “Like, gosh, is there anything the guy can’t do?”

I’ve already seen an increase in the number of followers on my socials and my fashion show ticket sales. I’m hopeful with how things are going that I can keep up the momentum.

“He still hasn’t reached out to you yet?”

A sigh slides from my mouth as I glance down at the floor. The memories of us in Chicago flash in my head. “Nope.”

After returning home, I told Jen everything that had happened in Chicago—well, not every detail about what had happened inside Jackson’s hotel room, but you get what I mean.

Jen folds a black dress. “Maybe he’s worried he came across as too strong, which is why he’s leaving it to you to make the first move.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, reaching for some tissue paper.

It’s been five days since we returned to New York, and I haven’t heard from Jackson. I considered reaching out first a couple of times but ultimately chickened out.

He obviously has his own life, but a new fear has been unlocked within me—that he regrets everything he said to me about being there to catch me when I’m ready to take a leap of faith or that he’s having second thoughts.

Logically, I know I shouldn’t think like this, but my overthinking brain can’t help but automatically jump to the worst possible conclusion. I think it’s a protective mechanism; I just don’t know when to believe that scared voice in my head and when not to.

My phone dings with a new text, and my heart does a little jump in anticipation before sinking when I see who the message is from.

Mom

Hi, Isabelle. Are you and your boyfriend free to come over next Friday for dinner? Ivy and Ben will be there as well.

A part of me almost hoped Mom had forgotten about wanting to meet my “boyfriend,” but of course, the chances of that were slim.

“I know Oliver’s a dickhead, but you can’t let him stop you from being open to the good things in your life,” Jen adds.

“I know.” I sigh, putting my phone down. I’ll deal with Mom’s text later. “I didn’t even care when Oliver showed up with his fiancée at the reunion, but when he brought up our breakup in Chicago, it was like something snapped inside me, and I was reminded of how heartbroken I had been.”

Jen stops what she’s doing to glance up at me. “And that’s all understandable, considering what that asshole said and did to you,” she firmly says. “Your feelings are all valid, Belle, but let me also ask you this: How do you really feel about Jackson?”

“I mean … I wanted him so badly when I was inside his hotel room,” I confess. “And I’ve never felt that way with anyone else before, not even Oliver.”

Openly admitting it, saying those words out loud, only makes me realize how certain I am about my feelings for Jackson.

I’ve fallen for him.

I’m not sure exactly when those feelings began to form, though I suspect they’d been buried there for some time and our kiss at the hotel was the catalyst for them to finally bubble to the surface.

However, it’s one thing to have feelings for someone and another to act on those feelings.

There’s a gleam in Jen’s blue eyes as she slides the dress inside a mailer. “So, you do admit you have feelings for him.”

“Yeah.” It feels surprisingly easy to say that. I swallow. “I do.”

Jen clasps her hands together. “I knew it! Can’t say I’m surprised.”