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However, I’d discovered over the past two weeks that losing the CEO position wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.
Losing Isabella was, and that had already come to pass.
A familiar ache surged through my chest. It was torture being this close to her without touching her, but at least she washere, in the flesh, instead of haunting my thoughts.
“We can continue discussing the vote, but I’m guessing you didn’t ask me here to talk about work,” I said.
Her throat worked with a visible swallow.
Our last conversation swirled around us, carrying away our small talk and leaving fresh wounds and shattered hearts behind.
We’re not a good match.
It was fun while it lasted…
Please just leave.
Even now, weeks later, the memory of her words punched me through the chest with unrestrained brutality.
“I don’t know why I asked you here.” Isabella’s eyes dipped. “But I…when I saw you, I…”
The ache expanded into my throat. “I know,” I said quietly. “I miss you too, love.”
A tiny sob rent the air, and when she lifted her head, my heart cracked ever so slightly at tears staining her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Isabella whispered. “That night, I didn’t mean to…I—” Her sentence cut off with another hiccupping sob.
The sound ripped through me like a bullet, and I would’ve given up anything—my title, my company, my entire legacy—if it meant I could soothe her hurt for just one minute.
“Shh. It’s okay.” I gathered her in my arms while she buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking. She’d always seemed larger than life, with her uninhibited laugh and vibrant personality, but she felt so small and vulnerable in that moment that a sharp pain twisted my gut.
I hoped to God no one ever found out about the power this woman had over me, or I would be done for.
The night I walked out of her apartment, I’d drowned my sorrows in scotch and cursed every single person who had a hand in us meeting. Parker at Valhalla for hiring her, Dante and Vivian for always forcing me into the same room as her, her damn parents for giving birth to her. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have met Isabella, and I wouldn’t have a hole the size of Jupiter in my chest.
I’d played, replayed, and dissected every second of our relationship until the memories bled out of me and I was empty. And when it was all gone—the anger, the hurt, the pain—the only thing left was a dark, gaping numbness.
I didn’t blame Isabella for what she did. Not anymore. The past month had taken a toll on both of us, and she’d been reeling from her visit home. The only thing I hated more than being apart from her was the knowledge of how poorly she viewed herself. She had no idea how incredible she was, and it killed me.
I tucked my head against the top of her head and tightened my hold around her when another icy gust slammed into us. The bridge had emptied; we were the only people brave or stupid enough to stay here while the temperatures dipped.
Surrounded by water, with the far-off lights of Manhattan on one side and Brooklyn on the other, the air silent save for Isabella’s soft sobs and the wind’s whistling howls, I had the eerie sense that we were the only people left in the world.
“You never asked me your question,” I said when her cries died down to sniffles.
She lifted her head, her eyes swollen and her brow etched with confusion. “What?”
“From our balloon night in Bushwick.” I rubbed a stray tear off her cheek with my thumb. “You never asked me your question.”
Isabella let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything when it comes to you.”
Her smile faded, disappearing into the billows of tension around us. Bone-deep cold stole through me, both from the weather and the agonizing anticipation of what she would say next.
“Be honest,” she said softly. “Do you really see a future for us?”
I opened my mouth, but she shook her head.
