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I let out a long, slow breath, willing myself not to get frustrated. "I thought you didn't have the order, which is why we're here?" I gesture between myself and Issy, who is standing beside me. Her lips are pinched, and she looks like she's on the verge of throwing the nearest vase at this woman's head. We've been in this shop for forty-five minutes, following a painful thirty-minute drive here with me trying to make conversation with her while she made noncommittal noises in response.
I'm still not confident they even know which wedding they're discussing. When the woman leaves again to "check the back," Issy's head drops back, staring at the ceiling in a silent show of frustration.
She looks beautiful today, with her hair loose around her shoulders and a plain black sundress which makes her skin look flawless and creamy. We met in the lobby early this morning, and I couldn't help but hope for a sighting of the version of her I've glimpsed when we're alone but have so far been disappointed. She didn't mean for me to see so much yesterday, and now her guard is up.
I should let the walls stand after my talk with Reuben last night, but it'sfucking eating at me.
"Are you looking forward to the hike later?"
It's a pretty weak attempt at small talk, and I'm not entirely surprised that she doesn't bite, just smiles weakly and nods. "Yes."
Look at me.
Talk to me.
The shopkeeper returns, brandishing a piece of paper and speaking in rapid French to someone on the phone. When she hangs up, she nods. "Okay, all set."
I have to press my lips together to keep myself from laughing out loud at the outraged, furious expression on Issy's face. "Come on." I press my hand to the small of her back and guide us back onto the bustling street before she loses it. "We got what we wanted."
"How are you so calm about this?" She bursts out furiously, glaring over our shoulders at the woman. "That was infuriating."
I shrug. It was, but it hardly seems important now. I'm far too interested in the fiery, annoyed woman at my side to have room in my brain for anything else. "Are you hungry?" I nod toward a shop selling sandwiches that look incredible. "I don't know about you, but I'm already sick of gourmet fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
"We need to get back." She clips, shaking her head. "Everyone is supposed to meet for the hike at noon."
I check my watch, "There's plenty of time."
Not giving her the opportunity to come up with another objection, I steer us toward the shop, where a short line of tourists and locals are waiting for their turn to order. "There's a place like this around the corner from the hospital where I practice," I tell her quietly, letting my hand fall from her back and missing the contact immediately. "One of my patients and her husband own it. She brought me a sandwich at one of her prenatal appointments, and I swear the woman knew exactly what she was doing because now I go every chance I get. I didn't tell her I was going out of town, so I'm sure they'll send out a search party when I don't turn up for a week straight."
Issy is silent for so long that I think I've hit another stone wall, but my heart leaps when she looks up at me tentatively, her brow furrowed. "Is that weird? Seeing patients outside of work?"
I grin, not at her question, but because she asked one at all. "No. I like it a lot, actually. Running into an old patient in the supermarket with the wild four-year-old I delivered is amazing. That's the only thing I don't like about this specialty, not getting to follow my patients past postpartum. Do you, ah, like kids?" The question is casual, it shouldn't matter if she does or doesn't, but my heart still hammers against my rib cage in the time it takes her to respond.
Her eyes turn down as though she's confessing something embarrassing. "I, ah, actually volunteer at a nonprofit daycare back in Chicago. I'm not a teacher, but I go in three times a week to read to the kids and do craft projects with them."
Her parents think she volunteers at the hospital. They asked about it on our first night here. I don't know what makes me happier: that she confided in me or that she spends her free time playing with children from low-income families so their parents can work.
I'm supposed to be playing it cool, but I can't help but smile, feeling lighter than I have in days. "I think that's amazing. You like it, I assume?" She nods, and though she keeps her eyes trained forward, I can see a subtle dip in her bottom lip, like she's biting it to keep herself from smiling. She does it a lot.
Without warning, I'm filled with a vicious, burning hatred of Caroline and John Bradley. What was it like to grow up as Issy? For her to see her parents openly adore Evie while being treated with cold disapproval and disinterest? Those people made her afraid, disconnected her from happiness, and did their damn best to crush her spirit. It's still there, though, shoved down and hidden away maybe, but somehow, miraculously, alive.
What I'm feeling for her now has nothing to do with the fierce, instinctual attraction I've felt for her from that first moment on the plane. It's tamer but no less potent, and I can't put a word to it for the life of me. Everything I've felt with Isobel is brand new but this….shit.
I'm so incredibly fucked.
Chapter Seven
Isobel
DespiteJudah'sassuranceswehave "plenty of time," we arrive back at the hotel with only ten minutes to spare before meeting everyone for the hike.
He didn't keep up his attempts to get me talking while we sat side by side on a bench eating smoked chicken sandwiches, and I hate that it makes me disappointed instead of relieved. I should be happy he's getting the hint, that he's sick of my prickly, unsociable vibe and has decided I'm more trouble than I'm worth.
I power walk back to my bungalow to change, leaving Judah to wait for everyone in the lobby. I take the time to smooth my hair back into a neat ponytail for my mother's benefit and, out of habit, refresh my email.
Nothing.Still nothing.
Cursing when I see the time, I hurry over to the closet to get my hiking boots. I'm held up yet again when one of the laces snaps, and by the time I finally arrive back in the resort's lobby, ten minutes past our scheduled departure time, I find it completely devoid of Bradley or Hale family members.
