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“She wanted to get married. I wasn’t ready.” I shrugged. “So we broke up and she moved on, found someone who was ready. And I focused on my career.” That was the streamlined version. It wasn’t my place to talk about Jasmine wanting to remain a virgin. That was personal.
“Did you love her?”
“Yes. Very much. But I couldn’t see forever at twenty-three. I just wanted to stay right where we were for awhile.”
“I can see that. That’s really dang young.”
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“You’re agreeing with me? Wonders never cease.” I gave her a grin. “What about you? Who’s your one that got away?”
But Isla just shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve had one of those. I’m not sure I’ve ever even been in love. I feel like people just think they’re in love but it’s infatuation. Which there’s nothing wrong with, but I think deep, true love isn’t nearly as common as people think it is.”
It didn’t surprise me. “I guess when you do fall in love there won’t be any question about it.”
“Yeah.”
We both sat in silence for a minute.
Then I took her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers, enjoying the softness of her warm skin. “Thanks for distracting me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think you’re a pretty amazing woman, Isla. And I hope you don’t still hate me. That would suck.”
“I don’t still hate you.”
I turned and stared into those gorgeous brown eyes. “Good.”
She shifted closer to me, her lips parting in an obvious invitation.
I leaned in.
Without warning the door yanked open, letting in a whoosh of warm air. “What are you guys doing?” Juan asked.
“Nothing, we were stuck in here.” Isla scrambled to her feet.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t as relieved as I should be to be released from the small room. I actually felt disappointed.
That realization was more terrifying than the door slamming closed.
Eight
I purposely arrived an hour before Sean to the baby shower because I wanted to talk to Felicia about what was going on between me and Sean. Because something was going on.
Trapped in the cooler, I had almost liked him. He seemed normal. Down-to-earth. A guy with actual feelings. We had been about to kiss when Juan had saved us from ourselves.
But it turned out there was no way to talk to Felicia. She had an event planner in the house who was directing the set up of elaborate and elegant balloon installations. One spelled out “Amelia” in three-foot-high blush-colored letters, the baby’s name. There was a living floral wall behind the balloons. The entire main floor of the house was bursting with various shades of pinks in florals and balloons and draping.
“Whoa,” was my reaction when I came into the living room. “This is amazing.” Very pink. Very full-blown. But amazing.
“Is it too much?” Felicia asked, running her hand over her tiny baby bump.
A bartender was setting up a pink champagne bar in the corner with coupe glasses. “It’s a lot,” I admitted. “But it’s very you. You look gorgeous, by the way.” She was wearing something designer, though I couldn’t have told you who. Fashion was her arena, not mine.
“Are you sure? I wanted to wear black to offset the pink but then that just seemed macabre for a baby shower. So I decided to lean into the pink theme. This is Chanel.”
“You leaned, for sure. But it works,” I reassured her. I glanced down at my own outfit. “I’m sorry, I’m wearing black. It’s just my standard uniform and I didn’t even think about it not being appropriate at a baby shower.” I’d only been to one baby shower in my entire life and that was in college when a girl in our dorm got pregnant. Some of the students in our wing had thrown her a baby shower.
