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I crack my neck. Bastian is typically informal around me, but he never acts like this on the rare occasion we’ve had guests in the house.
“Anyhoo,” he says, the word coming out thick with his waning French accent. He’s managed to perfect his English but every once in a while, I hear that French come out.
“OK, I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me if you need something. Oh, and I called about the power. The power company has started trying to restore it to the area. They seem to think you should have power by tonight or tomorrow,” he adds. “I’m going to check on the Potters before I head home.”
I nod. “Thank you, Bastian. Please be safe. And tell Mrs. Potter to text me if she needs anything,” I add as I watch him leave the room. He only lives about three miles away as the crow flies. Many days, he runs here on a trail that ends by a park near his cul-de-sac on the edge of town. I shouldn’t be so annoyed. He’s gone above and beyond today. He’s a good employee and an even better friend. I’ll make sure he gets a huge bonus this month.
The room seems extra silent when Bastian exits. His presence is as loud as his voice.
I glance over at Isa as I try the soup. It’s excellent, which is nothing less than I expect from Bastian’s cooking.
“That was nice of Bastian to come here,” Isa says, breaking the silence.
“Yes. He’s a good man,” I reply. The silence between us feels awkward, unlike the comfortable silences over the past few days.
“I would snowshoe back with him, but I don’t think I’m adequately dressed,” she says as she looks down at my oversized clothes on her petite frame.
“You will do no such thing. Once the roads are clear and safe, you can take that death trap back home. Although, I prefer you not take that car. I can arrange for you to use one of mine until you can acquire something that won’t kill you,” I state with a raised eyebrow.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be just fine in my car,” she answers before finishing her soup and starting on her lamb and asparagus. “Bastian mentioned the horses? Should I be worried that we haven’t been feeding them?” she asks.
“No. They are fine. Mr. Potter left them extra feed. We have an automatic feeder rigged up to give them feed when there’s a storm or something,” I explain.
“Oh,” she says quietly. I realize my tone is a little harsh, even with Bastian gone.
“I’d invite you out to the barn, but…” I look toward where her feet are beneath the table. “I don’t think you have the proper shoes.”
“Right,” she replies quietly as she looks down at her feet.
“Now that we have cell service, I need to do some work tonight,” I announce as I stand to clear my dishes.
She’s quiet for a beat. “Leave it. I can clear dinner if you have work to do.”
Her words are punctuated and seem forced. Is she mad at me because I have to work?
And this is why I don’t do relationships. I grimace at the memory of Stephanie. It was my job that had started the arguments. It was my work that had been her excuse for betrayal. I can see how a relationship with Isa would lead right back to that same problem.
I give her a small nod. “Thank you,” I manage as I leave and head to my office, hoping my hotspot on my phone is enough to get some work done on my laptop.
I lose track of time, and when I look up from a report, I see that’s it’s ten o’clock. Shit.
I log out and head out to search for Isa. She’s not in the kitchen or my room and neither are the dogs. I find her fast asleep in an armchair in the library, a book lying on her lap, the dogs lying on the floor around her. I study her for a long beat, taking in the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she dreams, the way her hair that’s escaped her bun falls across her face, and the way her glasses have slid down her nose. She doesn’t snore, but her loud breathing tells me she’s deeply asleep.
I take the book and set it on the side table and then debate what to do. Ultimately, I decide not to disturb her. I find a throw blanket in the cabinet and place it over her. I can’t help running my fingers over her cheek.
“Sleep well, my beauty,” I whisper. I wish I could keep you. I wish I was the right man for you. I wish I could hear your laugh echoing in the walls of this prison that I’ve built for myself.
I head up to my room, resigned to the fact that the dogs will not follow me. My sleep is interrupted by nightmares. I wake with a start at eight in the morning. I hear the plow. I guess my guestwillbe leaving today. I get out of bed and shower and then go to find Isa.
I frown when I get to the library. She’s not there. I search for her and realize my dogs are lying in the entryway without Felipe. Looking out front, I don’t see her car. What the fuck?
I run up to her room.Her room.I don’t let myself read too far into that thought. I throw open a door and look inside. The bed is neatly made. All traces of Isa have vanished, as if she had never been here at all.
The only thing that tells me she really existed is a piece of paper lying on the bed.
Mr. Wellington,
Thank you for accommodating me during the storm.
