Page 48 of The Love Operation

“I think that’s an oversimplification.” I tuck my feet under me on the rug. “But the principle holds.”

“If you want something, you put the time in.” He looks at me pointedly.

“Exactly,” I say, running my fingers over the rim of my wine glass. “Which brings me to my first question.”

“Oh, we’re starting.” He sits straighter and lifts the legal pad I gave him.

“Why is there stuff written on there?” I say, craning my neck to view his scrawled notes.

“You’re not the only one asking questions.”

My lips curl upward.

Then his expression shifts, and all humor drains away. “But I need you to know something from the start.”

I sober instantly, my pulse kicking up a notch. “Okay.”

“I’m not looking for casual.” His gaze makes it impossible to doubt him. “I want a family. I come from a big one. We’re close. And I feel like I’m the last one left. Not that I’m rushing into anything because of that, but—”

I stop him with a nod. “I get it. That’s exactly where I am.” I fill my chest with air. “I guess that’s a good place to start. You’re in your mid-thirties?”

“Thirty-eight. I’m guessing you wanna know why I’m not married.”

I nod.

His lips quirk, but there’s no humor behind it. “I’ve been engaged. Twice.”

My mouth falls open. “Twice?”

He chuckles.

“Do tell, Mr. Thompson.”

His fingers drum against his knee. “Marion—the first one, in my twenties. We were serious. I thought she was it. Until she slept with my best friend.”

I lay a hand over my chest. “Oh, Isaac.”

“Yep.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “She blamed me. Said I wasn’t around enough, and Ian—my best friend—was.” His jaw shifts, then he pushes his plate away, like the memory has soured his stomach. “That ended things pretty quick.”

“And you lost your best friend.”

His mouth tugs to the side. “Actually . . . no. We’d been friends since elementary school. He swore up and down that Marion had seduced him. He was a wreck over it. Begged me to forgive him.” He shrugs. “I figured . . . people make mistakes.”

“That’s—” I shake my head. “That’s a big mistake, Isaac. That’s like . . . nuclear-fallout-level betrayal.”

“Yeah, well. It’s what I did.” His hands rub his knees. “And then came Lydia.”

“Go on.”

“This time, I was careful. I took my time. We had a long engagement. I tried to learn from my mistakes. I put the work in. And”—his mouth tightens—“we made it all the way to the wedding day.”

I jerk my head back. “The wedding day?”

“Yep.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands like they might hold the past in his palms. “About thirty minutes before the ceremony, I realized Ian—my best man—was missing. I went looking for him. Opened the door to the men’s suite, and . . .” Isaac exhales slowly, but his eyes have gone dull, like he’s not really here anymore. “There he was. Fucking my bride.”

A sharp inhale lodges in my throat. My hand flies over my mouth.

He gives a dry, almost lifeless chuckle. “She told him she was having second thoughts. That she felt suffocated. That I wanted everything just so, put too much pressure on her. And apparently, one thing led to another.” His jaw tightens. “Because you know how it is when you’re engaged to someone and suddenly you need one last taste of freedom before signing your life away.”