“Good night.”
It’s the first night that I want to hear Seb’s voice more than I don’t want to pick up the phone.
He always had the ability to calm and soothe me as well as command and control me with his words.
Making my way to my room, I sit on the bed and scroll to Seb’s number. My pulse kicks up a beat and my stomach knots with anticipation. I press call. It rings. And rings and rings. As the voicemail kicks in, I’m rewarded with a few brief words: “Sebastian York, leave a message.” At the beep, I shock myself and actually speak. No more easy Izzy.
“Hi. It’s me… I’ve wanted to call before today. Every day, in fact, but I’ve had some important things to get in order first. Can we talk? I miss you.” It’s all I can say. I pause before hanging up.
I hope he’ll talk to me, so that I can explain how sorry I am. Then, hopefully, we can look forward. I want to offer Seb the ‘more’ that he asked for, to be able to reciprocate what he’s done for me. I cling to that hope as I try to find the sleep I’m always in need of.
I get up early the next morning and stop by my house before going to work. Phil hasn’t contacted me and hasn’t returned any of my texts attempting to start talking our separation through properly. Why should he change that habit now? We need to talk about the divorce settlement and what we do with the house.
At least the locks haven’t been changed. I let myself in and take a tentative look around.
“Phil?” I call. His car isn’t in the drive, but I don’t want to get a surprise and find him here. I go to the spare room and pull open the draw with all our important paperwork. I take my passport and marriage certificate out. I go into the kitchen and take off my wedding bands. My eyes tear. They were a symbol of everlasting love and marriage. Now they only hold the memory of what went wrong.
I leave the rings on the kitchen sideboard. I don’t leave a note.
I arrive at work and grab a cup of coffee before settling down at my desk. It’s my little ritual. I phone Phil and leave a short, polite message, informing him that I’ll be filling for divorce.
“You’re getting divorced?” Mark’s question makes me jump out of my skin and I die a little on the inside. I’m absolutely clear that divorce is the right thing for me, but I’m not sure I want to share it with the world just yet.
“God, Mark, you scared me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It’s quiet in here and I was getting a drink.” He sounds a little embarrassed.
I relax and try to talk about it. I’m going to have to at some point. “It’s alright. I should’ve been more private. I didn’t think anyone was in. And yes, I’m getting a divorce.”
“Is that why you were off for those weeks? I know you said it was an emergency.” I give Mark a rather frosty glare. I’m not comfortable talking about this or explaining myself in any further detail to my boss.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but I’d rather not talk about it any further.” I raise my eyebrows and nod to my desk, indicating that the subject is closed and I want to get back to work.
“Of course. I’m sorry you are going through such difficult times, Izzy.”
I post my marriage certificate to Mr. Osbourn over lunch. I don’t hear from Phil for the rest of the day, which is his usual MO. However, I don’t hear from Seb either. I text him before I leave the office. The whole journey home and the rest of the evening I wait for that little bing. Each email, every social media notification raises my hopes, but no contact from him comes.
While I’m waiting, I do a little investigating. Pulling up Facebook, I do a little stalking until I find what I’m looking for. Sophie Trent’s profile. The only person I know who might know where she lives is Jackson, Phil’s friend. I scroll through my numbers and hit call.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi, Laura. It’s Izzy.”
“I don’t think Phil’s here, I’m sorry.”
“No, I was actually after Jackson if he’s home.” My voice has a squeak that betrays my nerves. If I can’t get an address then I won’t be putting Sophie’s name on the paperwork.
“He’s not home either. Can I help?”
“Well, actually, do you know Sophie? Sophie Trent? She was at the Christmas party.”
“Sure, she’s been friends with Jackson for ages.”
“I’m trying to get in touch with her. Do you have her address?”
“Why do you need her address?” Maybe the truth would help here. It does sound a stupid request, and if any of my friends gave out my address as easily as this I’d be livid.
“Look, I know she’s been seeing Phil. I’m leaving him. I just need to clear the air with her. You know, face-to-face.” I grit my teeth, not wanting to give away the real reason behind the call.
“That bad, huh? She lives on Upper Camden Place, although I’m not sure of the number. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Laura doesn’t sound at all surprised.
“That’s fine. Thanks for your help, Laura.” I end the call and Google a search for the postcode. With my newfound knowledge, I fire off an email to Mr. Osbourn.
A loud bang and the sound of movement wakes me. It’s 2:30 a.m., and I think I hear Jess giggling downstairs. She’s not alone. The giggling dies but is replaced with low moaning.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bury myself under the covers. I cannot deal with hearing Jess get frisky with a guy. Way too much information. I hear more banging and footsteps.
“Which door, Jess? Mmmm… which door?”
“Right, right, this one.” Another bang and then silence. I pull my head out of the duvet and wait. Nothing. I relax and thank Jess for having thick walls. At least she’s having fun.
I check my phone, but there are no new messages.
Please, Seb. Just tell me you’re OK, that we can talk soon. I miss you. So much. Love Izzy
Christmas is fast approaching. It’s usually a lovely, homey time of year. I love giving presents and seeing friends, but I have been dishing out excuses to many about my plans over Christmas. A few mutual friends have sent text messages of ‘sorry to hear’ and ‘is there anything I can do?’ about the news of me and Phil. It seems either he’s happy to discuss our breakup or Laura has been talking.
I’ve left him a handful of messages since I dropped off my rings but I’ve heard nothing yet. My sadness and guilt have been replaced by anger and frustration.
On the plus side, Mr. Osbourn and I have gone over all the details for the divorce petition which has been filed with the court. He advised that I should be seeking Phil to pay all the costs of the divorce, plus half of his pension, the savings and all of the proceeds of the sale of the house. That’s not what I wanted. Half of the house and the savings plus paying for my costs was what I deemed fair, although whether Phil would agree was another matter. Mr. Osbourn also advised against naming Sophie as a co-respondent. I was disappointed that she wouldn’t be dragged into this. She deserves this, and it would serve Phil right. But he said that it would likely complicate matters further. I want this divorce over with as soon as possible. Reluctantly, I agreed.
Christmas Eve is a short work day, and I’m thrown out at noon by security.
“Hey, merry Christmas Eve!” All giggly and excited, Jess greets me as I walk in the door, and I can’t help but smile back at her as she grabs me into a huge hug.
“You have a surprise in your room. I think it’s an early Christmas present.”
“Oh, thanks, Jess. I’ve not really planned Christmas this year.”
“No, silly, it’s not from me. Go up and see. I’ll be right behind you.” In my overactive imagination, I picture Seb sitting on my bed, ready to welcome me back into his life. Of course, he’s not in my room. On the desk, though, is a beautiful arrangement of flowers—white hyacinths, purple irises and alstroemeria in an elaborate display. They are stunning and fill the room with a sweet perfume. I know they are from him. They are too similar to the last flowers he sent—striking and original. It couldn
’t possibly be anyone else.
I look for a note and hope for a letter. I find a small card.
Dearest Isabel,
Wishing you a Merry Christmas
Sebastian
I stare at it.
“Oh, Izzy, they are gorgeous. Are they from Seb?”
“Yes.” I can’t keep the amazement and worry from bubbling up and choking me. He’s reached out. That’s a good sign, a very good sign.
“They are so unusual. What do they mean?”
“What do you mean? They’re flowers.”
“The Victorians loved their books on flower meanings. They say they represent specific emotions or feelings.” She pauses. “Red roses are the obvious—love. But I’m not sure about these flowers.”
“Do you think Seb would really send me a message with flowers?”
“They seem pretty unusual, like the ones he sent you last time. You know him, is this something he would do?” I think back past the last few months to when I first met Seb. He was always different. He listened to me, took the time to see me for who I really am. My heart flutters with possibility.
I hadn’t thought about the flowers having a unique meaning before now, and suddenly all I want to do is fire up Google. I buzz past Jess and reach for my iPad. Jess jumps on the bed next to me, giggling again. Come on, come on!
I will the screen to work and quickly type ‘flower meaning’ into the search bar, then wait for a long list of possible sites.
“White hyacinths mean beauty and irises stand for a message.” I slump back down, thinking about what Seb is trying to say.
“What about the last flowers?”
“The alstroemeria? This reference says they mean devotion.”
My eyes water and I can’t quite stop my heart from hoping. Is he trying to tell me he still has feelings for me? I desperately want him to love me the way I love him. When we were together, I thought he did. I could feel it.
“Izzy, did you hear what I said?”
“Um, what?”
“I said, what are you going to do?”
“I want to fight for him.”
“Oh, thank god! Right, phone him… Now!”
“Okay, but not with you here.”
“Ohh, I promise I won’t say a word.” She’s grinning from ear to ear and it’s infectious.
I nudge her out of my room as I clutch my phone against my ear, waiting for Seb to pick up. He doesn’t, so I fire off a message.
Thank you for the flowers. I’m ready. I want us to work. I love you. Izzy
How did he know where to send the flowers? He must know I’m not at home, and that gives me hope.
I meant what I said. I won’t go back to what we were doing before. S
He responded! I’m caught between relief and nerves. Had he been ignoring me previously? I shake off my doubts and tap his name on my phone again, hoping he’ll pick up this time.
“Hello.” He answers on the third ring, all chocolate and velvet, sending shivers down my spine. The short build-up of anxiety evaporates on his first word. I’ve missed him, and right now, that’s what I want to focus on. That, and getting back to him.
“Hi.”
“So, you’ve decided?”
“My decision was never between you and Phil. I just needed to find my courage.”
“And…?”
“Seb, I miss you,” I choke out. “I feel lost and I want to be with you. Please believe me. It’s always been you.” I can’t hold back and cry.
“Oh, Izzy, please don’t cry. Shh…”
“No. I’ve been awful to you. I never considered how my actions would hurt you. I was too wrapped up in my own world, but I love you and hope with all my heart that I can make things right.” I pause to gather myself before carrying on. Get it all out, Izzy. “I’m sorry, Seb. I should have had more courage and told Phil that I wanted a divorce a long time ago. I have now. I’ve filed for divorce. I’ve done it.” I hear him let out a small gasp, but I can’t let it distract me from what I need to say. This is my confession and I’m finally talking, albeit through tears and snot. “I love you. I just, this is all so crazy. Is there any way we can work at recovering what we had?”
I take a few shuddering breaths and hold on to a sliver of faith that Seb feels the same way, that he did want more, after all. I wait… and wait a few more moments until I don’t think I can stand the suspense. I’ve crumbled and laid myself emotionally bare to Seb. Our fate is in his hands. My fate.
“You tell me this now when I’m miles away and can’t see you.”
“You want to see me?”
“Of course I do. Didn’t you understand when I said I wanted more? What we had at the start quickly changed from a temporary affair to a relationship that promised much more. I hoped that you believed enough in us to take that final step and leave Phil, but you didn’t. I won’t continue to be second in your life.”
“I want to see you. I want us to be together.”
“Are you ready to see me, Izzy?”
“Yes. Please…” I beg and I’m not ashamed about it.
“I’ll warn you, right now I’m caught between wanting to spank you senseless and worshipping you. It’s been a long week.”
“I’ll love both from you. Please, Seb.” He sighs audibly. I press. “I can come over. I still have your key.”
“I’m in Manchester at the moment. When will you need to be home? How long is your Christmas break?”
“Boxing Day evening. Are you staying at the same hotel as before?”
“Yes, I’ll meet you in the bar. Drive safely, Isabel. That’s an order.”
Nearly four hours later, I’m parked, and walk, bag in hand, through the entrance. A magical green spruce decked in white and silver twinkles at me in the lobby. Beautiful glass and crystal ornaments hang from the branches, each placed with care. The elegant tree brings a sense of hope to me. I have been rather distracted from the regular goings on of Christmas, and this sight makes me smile.
Now, standing looking at the tree, meeting the man I love for a rendezvous of passion, I finally feel Christmassy. The misery of the last week has evaporated. The conversations ahead of us won’t be easy, but I’m not afraid. Not anymore.
I’m nervous, and the butterflies are back in residence. Seb told me to meet him in the bar—the bar where we first met at the hotel—and it seems fitting. The bar is nearly deserted, a combination of Christmas Eve and the late hour. I sit awkwardly at one of the bar stools and start twiddling my fingers. My stomach is churning in knots and I just want to be wrapped in his arms. Please, please, please!
I texted him as soon as I parked the car, but so far, I’ve had nothing back. Waiting is torture. There isn’t even a barman I can order a drink from, so I’m stuck with only my thoughts for company. Why did he have to be all the way in Manchester?
I feel him before I see him. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I start tingling in anticipation. “Merry Christmas, Isabel,” he purrs at my ear, sending my pulse dancing through my body. He doesn’t touch me, just hovers his mouth by my cheek so I tilt my head back and up towards him. “Let’s go upstairs. Come on.” He steps back and offers his hand to help me. I gratefully accept.
His handsome frame holds a tension I wish I could erase. In jeans and a white shirt, he makes my mouth water. His stubble has grown out a little, and I itch to feel it scrape across my cheek—or against my thigh. He collects my bag and leads me to wait for the lift. He doesn’t look at me or say a word as we wait, and I can’t help but fidget. I’m eager to be with Seb, for him to lay my worries about us and our future to rest. If we have a future. The memory of our strained conversation and the separation I’ve felt still linger.
The ‘ding’ of the lift makes me jump. Why do I feel like this? Seb steps us into the lift car and drops my bag. As the doors close, he pulls me into his arms and engulfs me in a huge cuddle. He crushes me to his chest and just squeezes harder. I melt at his sign of affection. It’s just
what I need. He shuffles me a few feet without breaking his hold and presses the emergency stop button.
“For the next day, our time here is just for us, Izzy. I want us to enjoy being together without thinking about anything else. Can you give me that?” My eyes close and the tears run freely at his words. My tears are happy ones, and I struggle out of his hold to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. I kiss him and it’s wonderful. His tongue pushes and penetrates me as his lips crush mine, revealing how much more he wants. We expose our base need for each other through this kiss. He takes control, holding my jaw, and slows my overzealous attack on him. He turns the kiss into a slow, sensuous act, which has me desperate to be under him. “Yes… Please,” I mumble, agreeing to his conditions. I would agree to anything after that kiss.
He pulls back but cradles my head in his hands. His beautiful aqua eyes bore into mine, past even my teary sheen. His gaze carries an unspoken promise that the next few days will be spent revelling in one another. The message heats my blood.
He releases the stop button and the doors open shortly after. We walk to his door and he pauses to look at me, fishing the key card out of his pocket as he does. He grins and looks at the door.
“What is it?” I ask, grinning back at his infectious smile.
“Don’t you remember?”
Now I understand. “The same room?”
“The same room. Coming in?” He holds the door open for me with his free hand, and it’s the easiest decision I’ve made in a long time. I cross the threshold and don’t look back. No hesitation. No doubt.
I walk in and look around. I know it’s the same room, but I feel different about being here this time. I gaze out of the window, and the twinkling lights of the city remind me of the lights of the lobby Christmas tree. Fitting, really.
I sense Seb behind me. Just being near him sends a low pulse of current over my skin, making me hot with desire. His hand gently sweeps my hair to one side as he plants soft kisses on my neck. “I’ll turn the heat up. You’ve got far too many clothes on for my liking, Izzy.”
The Izzy and Seb Collection: The Evermore Series Books 1, 2 and 2.5 Page 28