AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I exited the ballroom after her and returned to my suite, but I didn’t make it halfway before my adrenaline flatlined. The high from successfully exposing Russell faded, replaced with a familiar, piercing ache.
Now that I was alone, away from the noise and distraction of other people, Isabella’s voice crept back into my head like a ghost I can’t escape.
Please just leave.
The ache sharpened into a spike.
I set my jaw and headed straight to my suite’s mini-bar, but no matter how many glasses of alcohol I tossed back, I couldn’t blunt the impact of her memory.
Six days. Four hours. One eternity.
Tonight should’ve been one of my greatest victories, but in the quiet, luxurious confines of my room, I found it hard to celebrate anything at all.
CHAPTER 39
Isabella
“You’ve been working nonstop for the past week.” Alessandra regarded me with naked worry. “When was the last time you slept more than three hours a night?”
I rubbed a hand over my bleary eyes. “I don’t need sleep. I need to finish the website copy.”
The mouthwatering smells of espresso and pastries saturated the air, but every bite of croissant tasted like cardboard. I hadn’t enjoyed a single meal since I returned from Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza, and the thought of forcing more bread down my throat made my stomach churn.
I pushed my plate aside and took a gulp of coffee instead.
Alessandra, Sloane, and Vivian exchanged glances. We occupied a corner table at a new café in Nolita, which buzzed with Saturday morning activity. Fashionably dressed couples, models, and a minor celebrity from a new hit TV drama crammed around pale wooden tables while servers circulated with lattes and mimosas. Potted plants hung from the glass ceiling and gave the airy space a greenhouse feel.
It was the perfect location for catching up after Vivian’s return from London and Sloane’s business trip to Bogotá, but everyone was only focused on me.
“No, you need sleep,” Sloane said, blunt as always. “If the bags under your eyes get any bigger, you’ll have to pay an oversize luggage fee.”
Self-consciousness prickled my skin; it took all my willpower not to check my reflection in my phone’s camera. “Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” She sipped her black coffee. “Friends don’t let friends walk around with raccoon eyes, even if they’re heartbroken.”
My meager breakfast surged back up my throat. “I’m not heartbroken.”
It wasn’t like every breath resembled shards of glass piercing my lungs. I didn’t wake up every morning missing his warmth or reach for my phone to text him only to remember we weren’t talking. I didn’t see him everywhere I turned—in the pages of my books, the soft strains of a distant piano, or the reflection of a passing shop window. And I definitely didn’t lie awake, sleepless and restless, replaying every memory we shared like that was my life instead of the tattered reality around me.
I wasn’t heartbroken because I did this to myself. I didn’t have therightto be heartbroken.
But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to hear Kai make his dry little quips one last time. Just so my final memory of him wasn’t the anguish on his face and the knowledge that I’d put it there.
It’s scientifically proven, my love.
A sob broke halfway in my chest. I turned my head away, eyes wet, until I regained control over my emotions. When I looked up again, my friends were watching me, their expressions soft yet knowing.
I’d skipped over the details of why I ended things with Kai. I simply told them we weren’t a good fit anymore and I needed time alone, which was true, but I could tell they didn’t believe me.
I didn’t blame them. I didn’t believe me either.
Fortunately, none of them called me out, and they acted like I didn’t almost have a breakdown at the table.
Sloane lifted one perfectly shaped brow. “Is that why you’ve been working like the hounds of hell are after you for the past week?” she asked, circling back to her concern over my recent habits.
“I have a good work ethic,” I said, grateful I didn’t have to talk about my feelings this early in the morning. “Is that a crime?”
“No, but you’re working yourself to exhaustion,” Vivian said gently. “It’s not healthy.”
