AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The necklace I gave her is dangling just above her breasts. I focus on it, my chest tightening at the sight. She’s worn it every day since I gave it back to her, and I know that means something—I just can’t let myself think ofwhatit means. She’s holding onto a hope that I’ve tried my best to shake loose from her.
“I just want you to rest,” I tell her firmly, working on unboxing the side table for the living room. “I heard you had a difficult day, once you and Ana came back from shopping.”
Isabella’s eyes widen, and I notice again how red they are at the corners, slightly swollen. It’s clear she was crying earlier, before I arrived. “How did you hear about that?”
“Ana texted me. I wishyouwould have told me.”
“I didn’t want to cause a problem,” she says softly. “It was just—I don’t know. Jealousy, maybe. Or her protecting her family, as she sees it. I didn’t think you needed to get involved—”
“If someone speaks cruelly to my wife, or accuses her, or treats her badly, thatisa problem.” I set down the razor blade I’d been using to cut open the boxes, focusing on Isabella. She looks tired and worried suddenly, and I want to reassure her.
“I want you to understand that it doesn’t matter if we’re together, if we’re married or divorced, whether we love each other or not—you’re the mother of my child, and I promised you protection.” I shake my head. “Saoirse had no reason to speak to you like that. But Ana didn’t tell me the specifics of what was said, and I’d like very much for you to.”
Isabella’s teeth sink deeper into her lip. “I promise, Niall, I’m fine—”
“Be that as it may,” I insist gently. “I need to know what’s being said to you.”
Isabella glances away for a second. “It’s just all the same stuff Connor said, but with a dash of jealousy,” she says finally. “Saying no one is sure the baby is yours, that I could be lying about that for money and safety.” She glances over at me, and I can see tears brimming in her eyes as her hands knot together between her knees. “I believe some of her specific words were that you need a woman, not a girl. And that I should leave you alone.”
I snort at that. “Leave me alone? Bloody hard to do when you’re carrying my child, aye?”
Isabella’s eyes widen a fraction, and her hand comes up to cover her mouth, fingers touching her lips so delicately it makes me ache to kiss them. “You really do believe me?”
I let out a sigh, moving closer from where I was seated opening the box so that I’m next to the couch, nearly touching her legs as I take her hands in mine. “I told you, lass. Of all the things that have passed between us, I never doubted that. I might have wondered if Diego or Javier forced you, but you assured me that wasn’t the case. I know you’ve been with no other man by choice. I believe—” I pause, searching for the right words. “I believe that everything you said and did, Isabella, was because you wanted me. And I don’t think you were so quick to move on, once we thought our time was done, or that you wanted anyone but me while we were together. There’s a failing of trust between us, aye, but I’ve never thought you were faithless.”
Isabella’s eyes flicker shut, and when she opens them again with a small, sad smile, I can still see the tears wavering there. “Thank you,” she whispers softly. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”
I can’t stop myself. I reach out to touch her hand, running my rougher fingertips along the soft skin of the back of it. “There’s been a lot between us, lass. It isn’t all gone because of what’s happened. But we need to do our best to make a good way forward, aye? For the little one.”
Isabella nods, sniffing back tears. “Thank you for all this.” She gestures at the boxes filling up the living room, and I laugh, pushing myself to my feet.
“There’s plenty left to do. And we still need to eat. So order us something with that credit card, aye? And I’ll keep unboxing all this.”
After a little more discussion, we both agree on pizza. Isabella quickly figures out how to order it, and sits on the couch while I make short work of the rest of the unboxing, arranging the furniture to her liking. There’s a side and coffee table for the living room, a new rug and a few art pieces, along with some other items for the bedroom.
“We looked at baby things today too, but—” Isabella pauses nervously. “I thought you might want to shop for those with me. I didn’t want to assume, but—”
“I would very much like that,” I assure her, and the way her face lights up shakes every bit of resolve I have to keep space between us.
When the food comes, we sit at the dining table in the small nook of the apartment, the curtains pulled back to show the view of the city beyond. “It’s beautiful,” Isabella says softly, looking out over the lights of the skyline. “I hadn’t thought I’d like living in a city, but I think I could get used to this.”
“I hope so.” I look at her across the cardboard pizza box between us, the gooey slices looking out of place on the black and gold-edged stoneware plates provided with the apartment. “I want you to be happy here, Isabella. I want this to be your home, yours and our child’s. I have no intention of leaving, and I want our child to be raised where I can be a part of their life, but neither do I want to keep you somewhere that you’re unhappy.”
Isabella looks at me pensively. “I loved Mexico,” she says softly. “I thought I would live there all my life. I loved the heat and the desert, the smell of the air, the gardens behind my family home, all of it. But I would have been unhappy there, married to Diego, having his children. At least here—” She licks her lips nervously, picking at her slice of pizza. “At least here I’m with you. I’m havingyourchild. I would rather that, even if I never love Boston the way you do.”
Her voice is simple and honest. I can hear the truth in her words, and they cut me to the core, once again shaking my resolve.What if this could be different? What if every night could be like this, sitting across from her over dinner?It’s easy to envision a high chair at the side of the table, a baby cooing there, a chair with a child in it later on, maybe another joining them in time. A life I’d never imagined unfolds in front of me in seconds, and I have to fight to remember what I’d decided over long agonizing hours of considering my future with Isabella—that it was never meant to be, and that now all we can do is pick up the pieces and do our best, apart but focused on our child.
“Did you enjoy your day with Ana?” I ask finally, when the silence stretches out for too long. I can see a hint of disappointment in Isabella’s eyes that I didn’t exactly respond to what she’d said, but the truth is that I don’t know what to say, and not hurt her. “She’d told Liam she was excited at the possibility of having a friend here. I think the two of you will be good for each other.”
Isabella smiles weakly. “I think we might be friends. It’s hard to say—I never really had friends, other than my sister. But she seems so sweet and genuine. It would be good to have a friend here.”
“I’ll make sure Saoirse doesn’t bother you again,” I tell her firmly. “She had no right to speak to you the way she did, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Isabella sighs. “It did upset me,” she admits. “But I understand, in a way.” She looks up from her plate, her dark eyes meeting mine. “She clearly cared for you, even if she broke your heart. I could tell from the way she looked when she talked about you.”
“Saoirse and I are over now.” I look at her intently. “There’s no chance of anything happening between us. And after the way she’s acted since you’ve been here, I have no desire to put anything but distance between us.”
“I know.” Isabella presses her lips together. “But I also know I’m a stranger here. She’s not entirely wrong to be suspicious of me. I lied my way into this, even if I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did. I’m not exactly the hero of this story either.” She swallows hard, and I can see her fighting back tears again as she looks at me across the table. “I’m so sorry, Niall. I know I’ve said it before, but I am—more than I can ever say, really. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t—”
