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Unexpectedly, he turns back. “You know, Clay, women who reject you don’t usually betray you. So you’ve got that going for you with Isabelle.”
“It’s resistance, brother, not rejection,” I reply, spinning the silver ball.
* * *
I lingerat the UCLA Children’s Hospital parking garage. I don’t even know when Isabelle is finishing her shift, so I could still be waiting for hours yet. I don’t usually have the patience, but waiting for Isabelle is unexpectedly bringing out the calmness in me. Besides, I’m being entertained by the latest season ofYellowstoneplaying on my phone.
Who needs meditation when you can use your downtime like this?
A tap at my window un-Zens my moment.
Shit!
Where did she come from?
“You just don’t give up, do you?” Isabelle complains as soon as I wind down my window.
I maintain my sanguine face until the adverse vibe oozing out of her eases a notch.
“How did you know I’m here?” I state my curiosity. She was stealthy. I’ll give her that!
“I could see your red Porsche beckoning from a mile out!” She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“How were the chocolates?”
She tips her head sideway. “Nice. What do you want?”
I hop out of my car, and she takes a couple of steps back. “Relax. I won’t bite, but I want accountability.”
“What accountability?”
“You see, Isabelle, you returned my car with scratches on it.”
“Clayton!” She glares.
That’s the name I long to hear—not Mr. Hartley, as she called me the last time.
I offer her my most charming smile. “Good to see you again.”
“Good night, Clayton.” She spins around, abandoning me. She has no idea how long I’ve waited for her!
“Isabelle, let’s stop this nonsense.”
She strides back to me. “Yes, let’s. You and I—we can’t happen.”
“You’re still afraid of Fletcher?”
“I told you that night that you didn’t understand. You still don’t.”
“It’s about your son?” I have to bring this up now. She’s got to know that when she’s with me, Fletcher is never a threat.
“Don’t bring my son into this!”
“If you want us to happen, I’ll protect you—and Raffi.”
Her face twists, as if trying to quash her own thoughts. But she refuses to let me see her struggle. She spins around, marching away from me.
I rush to block her. In the duel of wills, I brace myself to take her hand.
