Kai relaxed a smidge. “It depends,” he said, his tone measured. “What did she want?”
“She asked for a revise and resubmit.” I took a fortifying sip. “I made her edits and sent her the full manuscript tonight. That’s why we’re here.” I gestured at my friends, who quickly looked away and pretended they hadn’t been staring. “To celebrate.”
A flicker of pride softened Kai’s face. “You finished the book.”
“Yeah.” I mustered a weak smile. “Thanks to a handy digital typewriter.” It forced me to keep writing instead of going back and deleting every other sentence.
“It wasn’t the typewriter that wrote the story, Isabella,” he said, his voice low. “It was you.”
My heart twisted itself into knots. The last time we talked, I broke up with him and kicked him out of my apartment, yet he was still encouraging me like I hadn’t dragged us both into hell.
“Why did you do it?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t even read the manuscript. You never said anything…”
“If I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to stop me.” Kai gave a small shake of his head. “Perhaps I overstepped by sending it to Jill without consulting you, but I didn’t want you agonizing over it. Your story is good, whether she accepted it or not.” His face softened further. “Although I’m glad she did.”
“Me too,” I whispered. I wasn’t upset with him for sending her the chapters; I was more upset at myself for not having the courage to send them earlier.
I used to think I was the one who pushed Kai out of his comfort zone, and maybe I did. But he did the exact same for me, only in a different way.
There was no growth without risk, no progress without change.
I’d broken up with him because I was afraid of change. I’d prided myself on being bold and adventurous when really, I was a fucking coward who ran from rejection before rejection could find me.
Kai had never once expressed doubts about me. In fact, he believed in me so much he’d sent my manuscript to one of the top agents in the country. I was the one who’d projected my insecurities onto him, and those insecurities were based on what? Gabriel’s words? Leonora Young’s disapproval? My history of never seeing anything through?
At the end of the day, only the latter mattered because that was the only thing I had control over. I couldn’t change the way other people perceived me, but I could change the way I lived my life.
I was capable. The past week proved that. I’d finally finished something that was important to me, and if I could do it once, I could do it again.
The realization filled me with a burst of confidence that almost erased the ache in my chest.
Almost.
“I heard about what happened in London,” I said softly. “Congratulations. I hope you celebrated.” If anyone deserved everything good in the world, it was him.
“I’m not CEO yet.” His smile contained such aching sadness it made every cell in body hurt. “And I haven’t been in the mood to celebrate.”
I dropped my eyes, unable to look at him any longer without feeling like someone was tearing my insides into shreds.
This time, the silence between us burst not with memories but with unspoken words. Thousands of them, swirling and hovering with nowhere to go.
Meanwhile, the bar was filling up. The manageable crowd from earlier had swelled to deafening proportions, and the music had switched from mellow jazz to up-tempo funk.
The noise. The people. The raw, blooming pressure beneath my skin.
They pressed against me until something snapped and I made a split-second decision.
I looked up, my gaze catching Kai’s again. “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” I said, hoping against hope I was doing the right thing. “We need to talk.”
KAI
Instead of going to another bar, Isabella and I walked the nearby Brooklyn Bridge. The chill of winter thinned its foot traffic considerably, but there were still a handful of couples, photographers, and tourists keeping us company as we strolled toward Manhattan.
The temperature hovered in the mid-thirties, so low our breaths formed small white puffs in the air. Nevertheless, warmth spread through my veins, insulating me from the cold.
Being near Isabella again was worth braving any brutal weather.
I would have to thank Clarissa later. I’d told her what happened with Isabella on our way to the bar, mainly because she was the only unbiased party I could talk to about the situation, and I didn’t believe for a second that she’d left because she was sick.
Running into Isabella tonight was a stroke of luck, and I had no intention of wasting it.
“So when exactly is the new vote?” Isabella asked with a sideways glance.
“Tomorrow.” I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets to keep from touching her. Her cheeks were red and her hair was tangled from the wind. Her eyeliner had smudged somewhere between the bar and the bridge, lending her an adorably raccoon-esque appearance.
And she looked so damn beautiful it made my heart stop for a second, just long enough to confirm she owned every beat.
Isabella halted dead in her tracks. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow tomorrow?”
“Yes.” A smile ghosted my mouth at her wide eyes. “Tomorrow tomorrow. As in Friday. D-day. Whatever you want to call it.”
The past two weeks had been a whirlwind. Russell was officially fired and under criminal investigation for his activities. A majority of the blackmailed board members had resigned, triggering an emergency shareholder meeting to elect their replacements. The Young Corporation and Black & Co. were embroiled in a nasty legal fight across half a dozen fronts. It was a mess, but the sooner we dealt with it, the sooner we could move on.
Chaos only made for good business when it involved other people, not our own.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be securing votes and doing other…pre-selection things?” A blast of wind tossed Isabella’s question through the air.
“There’s nothing else I can do at this point.” I was remarkably calm about the vote this time around. It was down to the original candidates minus Russell—Tobias (who’d reentered the race), Laura, Paxton, and myself. I was confident about my chances, but a quarter of the board members were new, and I didn’t know which way they leaned.
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 was here, 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.