The only option that would allow me to stay on track with my current plan involved going back to Tom for funding.
I hated the idea of that.
Becca nodded like she could tell what I was thinking. “I don’t want you to have to go back to him either. But maybe Blake and Sarah are right. Maybe you need investors. It would give you much more freedom and lower your personal risk. If not Tom, then someone else.”
I sipped my coffee with a pain in my chest. I didn’t like any of my options and I was running out of time.
Chapter 27
Owen
I wasn’t crazy. Isla had been distracted ever since the dinner at her brother’s house, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with a curse.
At first, the change was subtle. I’d send a text and instead of responding right away, Isla might wait a few minutes.
Or a half hour.
I wrote those instances off as her being busy baking and not having her phone nearby, even though I knew exactly where she kept it, and even though a week earlier it hadn’t taken her a half hour to respond.
If I’d had the clarity of hindsight, I would have heard her words for what they were—warnings that we weren’t headed for a relationship.
Or rather, I heard the words and chose not to listen to them, believing that my heart knew something my brain didn’t.
The undeniable connection I felt with her in those moments when we looked at each other and couldn’t tear our gazes away—those had to mean something.
Isla had to feel something.
To me, there was nothing confusing about what was happening between us, even if we’d laid ground rules and told ourselves we’d only be friends.
Things change.
People fall in love. Glorious lives of happiness ensue.
I wanted to be able to tell our grandkids about the friends experiment that quickly failed because our feelings for each other couldn’t be denied.
I was deluding myself.
Raf had left a pile of resumes on my desk after meeting with candidates to run the new Sonoma location once we got it built. We were probably a year out on needing to hire anyone, but Raf was thorough and that meant starting early, vetting the best candidates over an extended period of time, and locking in the best ones with contracts months before we even had a place for them to work.
His process never bothered me. If anything, I appreciated that his zealousness had landed us the best staff in the hospitality business at each property. It didn’t go unnoticed with guests and his eye for people was one of the reasons I’d made him my partner.
But right now, I didn’t want to look at resumes.
My mind was stuck in an endless loop of rehashing conversations I’d had with Isla since our weekend in Calistoga. And in thinking of the recent ones, it became ultra-clear that I was moving forward into relationship territory and she wasn’t.
My phone buzzed. It didn’t sound like the usual tone for a text or a missed call, so I checked the screen and saw it was a keyword notification. I forgot that I’d typed in Isla’s name as a keyword and accepted notifications from a couple of the gossip sites that were hassling her on the day Tom Stone’s photos showed up with his Swedish model girlfriend.
At the time, I’d wanted to buffer Isla’s mortification and help her weather the crap flying her way, and I’d forgotten to turn the alerts off.
The new notifications informed me that Tom and the Swedish model were finished. Rumor had it that she didn’t know he had a serious girlfriend during the time she was seeing him, and she didn’t want to be a homewrecker.
There was speculation Tom Stone was starting up again with his celebrity chef girlfriend.
Isla.
I felt a burning pit in my stomach picturing her with Tom, not because I gave a flying fuck about Tom Stone but because Isla belonged with me. I knew it in my bones.
And there Tom was again trying to ruin things. Just like he’d done with my girlfriend all those years ago when he’d convinced her to dump me. A mere days after I turned down his overture to finance my boutique hotels into a faceless, moneymaking conglomerate, he gave Lexi the hard sell and she bought it.
Apparently, all it takes to break up a relationship is a billion dollars and a chin that can cut glass.
I couldn’t believe it was happening again.
The idea of Isla cooling things with me because she was going back to that asshole made me sick, but it made sense in a poetic injustice sort of way.
Of course she’d want to rekindle something with a guy she’d already invested a year with. How had I not seen that coming?
To her credit, she’d never pretended to love me. That was all me.
My mind was still reeling with how I’d allowed myself to fall for her given everything she’d explicitly said, when my phone pinged again, this time with a text message.
Isla: Hey, what’re you up to?
This time, I waited to respond, not because I was playing games but because I didn’t know what the hell to say.
Me: Not much.
Isla: Want to come over?
Did I want to come over? Not especially, but that’s because I knew it was the last time I’d see her, and I wasn’t ready for that.
But I needed to do the right thing for once.
Me: Sure.
* * *
I showed up at her door fifteen minutes later with Japanese udon bowls and my heart in my throat.
Isla wrapped her arms around me as soon as I walked in the door. She leaned into me and laid her head on my chest. “I’m so glad to see you, you have no idea.”
She was right. I had no idea because I didn’t believe her anymore.
Or at least, I didn’t believe that she could possibly feel what I was feeling and that hurt more than thinking she was a liar.
Nonetheless, I sat on her couch while she put out orange paisley placemats that her sister Becca had sewn for her onto the table and grabbed two beers from the fridge.
“Hey, ooh, you went to the good place. Thank you!” She seemed happy with the food choice and happy to see me.
Her phone started buzzing as soon as we sat down with the food. She kept apologizing, but something seemed off in the same way it had at the bakery the other day. I couldn’t help but assume it was Tom.
She seemed distracted but not upset by whatever she was reading on the screen. She also seemed a little oblivious to me, which only made me more certain I was finally seeing things clearly.
On the surface, there was nothing different about the way she was with me, other than the texting disruptions.
She’d never wanted more than my friendship with benefits. She’d told me so time and again. I’d been kidding myself all along.
Realizing my stupidity, I sat on her couch making quiet conversation about I don’t even know what for ten minutes while we ate.
When she got up to use the bathroom, her damn phone started in again.
I didn’t want to pry into her private messages, but I had to know who kept texting her. If I was wrong about Tom, I’d admit to my mistake and apologize. I’d calm the hell down and we’d go on the way we had been. Or some fucking thing.
So I turned over the phone and saw one new text on the lockscreen. From Tom Stone. And it confirmed that he was meeting her at the bakery after hours. Like we had done a couple days before, when baking had led to dinner, which had led to sampling our finished bread and going upstairs to make use of her newly decorated office. The pillows had been the perfect touch.
But now, she was going to do the same thing with him.
It was like a single rock toppling off a mountain, bumping along slowly in the distance but picking up a few smaller bits as it went, sending all the loose stones and dirt into motion until the entire side of a mountain caved on itself and destroyed everything in its wake.
I loved her. I fucking loved her, and she just wanted to be my friend.
She’s going to go back to him. And you’re a lovestruck
idiot.
Who wouldn’t want to be with Tom Stone? Despite the cheating and the fact that he was clearly wrong for her, she’d invested a year with him and at thirty-four, she knew what she wanted.
I’d been deluded, thinking I could go from being the rebound guy to being the guy. I was only making myself miserable by hanging out with her all the time and pretending we were dating. I needed to cut bait. I should have done it a long time ago.
When she came out of the bathroom, I was standing up with my jacket in my hand. She looked around the room and back at me. “Going so soon?” she asked as though I was joking around.
I pointed at her phone. “You have a text.”
She looked puzzled that I was pointing it out. “Okay . . .”
“Damn guy always gets what he wants. I don’t know why I’m surprised,” I muttered. I fucking hated him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tom Stone. Are you getting back together with him? And taking his money?”
She almost looked relieved as though she could finally be honest. “Oh. No, but he’s persistent. He keeps coming back with better offers.”
“Right. Of course he does.” I had no reason to believe the tabloids, but she wasn’t giving me much reason to believe her. Going into business with him, going to bed with him—was there even a difference?
And I knew the guy. He’d want both.
Isla’s sisters had talked to her about having kids. Tom had good genes even if he was a son of a bitch.
“He’s just trying to be helpful,” she said.
“He’s not, but whatever.”
Being with Isla was starting to make me sadder than I figured I’d be without her. At least if I wasn’t seeing her every day, I could try to focus on other things. Like the hotel in Sonoma I’d never want to return to because it only reminded me of her. And the new property, that amazing wine cave—I’d just have my subcontractors report back to me on the progress. Maybe I’d move away from San Francisco entirely, or at least away from the neighborhood.
“Tom just might be . . . easier. I don’t know what else to do,” she said.
Easier? I shook my head. It wasn’t worth explaining it to her. “I’m gonna go and I . . . I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
The shock registered on her face and her wide eyes fixed on me. “What? What do you mean?”
“I just think our whole friends-with-benefits thing has run its course.”
She was speechless. I could tell I’d surprised her, but she wasn’t arguing with me. “Um . . . wow. Okay . . . sure. If that’s what you want.” She seemed dazed—and hurt, which wasn’t my intention.
Or maybe it was.
She didn’t seem to have any idea how much it pained me to hear her blithely refer to us as friends over and over again.
“It is. I think it’s time to end things,” I said, a sickening, tinny taste in the back of my throat when I heard the words.
She didn’t make a move, didn’t take a step closer to me, or beg me to change my mind. Of course not. Why would she? “Can I ask why?”
“Sure. You can ask. It’s because I love you. I am so in love with you it hurts, and I can’t be your rebound guy anymore. Not that you need one now.” I didn’t want to be mean or spiteful, so I needed to leave before I said something I’d regret.
“Wait. You’re telling me you love me and breaking up with me in the same sentence? In what world does that make any sense?”
“It just does.”
“Can we talk about this? You’re blindsiding me. If we could just talk, figure out how we both feel . . .”
“Isla, do you love me? I’m asking you flat out. It’s not a hard question.” Not hard if you know the answer.
She swallowed and ran a hand through her hair. “I just . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence, just stared at me like a rabbit right before it darts into the underbrush.
“No.” I shook my head. If she felt what I did, she’d know by now. “I know how I feel. It’s crystal clear. But I’m tired of waiting for you to catch up. I can’t do this shit anymore.”
“Owen, this doesn’t make sense. I feel like we’re not on the same page here.”
She was right. She was a smart woman.
“We’re definitely not.” I leaned in and kissed her because I loved her and couldn’t go without kissing her goodbye.
Then I walked away.
Chapter 28
Owen
Raf was a good friend.
I’d known that for the past eight years we’d worked together, but nothing speaks friendship like showing up at the apartment of a guy who’s just had his heart gutted and bringing tequila and a sixpack of beer.
He gave me a bro hug-slash-pat on the back and went straight for my kitchen where he started slicing up limes. We’d had more than a few work crises over the years, and he knew his way around my place.
I didn’t even bother to get up off my couch when he came in. The door was unlocked and if a fleet of unarmed flat-footed robbers had tried to ransack the place, I wouldn’t have cared enough to get in their way.
Lying on my back with an arm over my eyes felt like the right way to spend the rest of my life.
In under five minutes, Raf was back in my living room with shot glasses for the tequila, an opener for the beer, and tortilla chips in a giant orange bowl I didn’t know I had.
He poured the two shots, handed me a lime, and clinked my glass. The burn of the tequila went well with my mood.
Raf uncapped a beer and looked at me. “You look terrible. Just so you know.”
“Thanks. And fuck off.”
He laughed. “Boy, I knew you were in love with her, but this level of wallowing tells me she really had you. I’m sorry, man.”
“You and me both.” I popped the cap on a beer, but he’d bought some kind of lager I hated. I winced at the taste and poured another shot instead.
He studied me and sipped his beer. “You gonna be okay?”
I shrugged because I honestly didn’t know. “Maybe. No. Who knows? I’m so done. I should’ve walked away sooner, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so fucking much now.”
“Probably. I mean, you were bound to do it eventually.”
What the hell did that mean? My head whipped around to look at him. “Come again?”
“This isn’t new for you, man. I hate to break it to you.” Raf took a swig of his beer and looked at me calmly like he was waiting for me to solve a Dixie cup riddle. But I had no idea what in the fancy blue moon he was talking about.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
To hell with the beer—I was sticking with tequila. I poured another shot.
"You shut people out when they don’t do what you want.”
I rolled my eyes at his idiocy. “Give me one example of when I’ve done that.”
He laughed. “I can give you twenty. But for starters, your sister. I know it’s a huge bummer that she found a way to be happy and not have you take care of her until she’s old and in a rocker, but to not talk to her for five years? Come on.”
I didn’t want to get into a discussion about my sister. And it was hot as shit in my apartment, so I went to shove open the casement window. The wet foggy air slapped me in the face and it felt good.
“What’s your point?”
Raf laughed again and shook his head. “My point is that it was goddamn heroic of you to basically raise a kid when you were a teenager. No one’s begrudging you that. Then you sent her to college, which was, again, a superhero thing to do and she’s lucky to have you. But what did you expect? Did you think she was going to move in with you afterward? Would you even have wanted that?”
I took a deep breath. He was maybe ten percent right. I shook my head ever so slightly.
“It’s what every parent dreams of—their kid being independent enough to leave the flock and soar off on their own—but don’t you think that every damn one of them cries about their empt
y nest? Every one. Why should you be any different? Why should she?”
“Because I was all she had.”
“And she was all you had. But you found other people, made a life. Why shouldn’t she? It never sounded to me like she was trying to cut ties. She was just trying to live her life.”
The anger and frustration I’d felt for the past hour was starting to dissipate a tiny bit. The tequila was helping.
“So, fine. I didn’t take it well that she moved forward and never came back. That’s for me and her to solve someday.” I thought about my sister, how she’d reached out after being nervous and hanging up so many times. That wasn’t something a person did if they were cutting ties. “Or sometime sooner, who . . . who knows?”
Thinking about Jen in addition to Isla was making it hard to breathe. I went back to the window. Maybe I could force some air into my lungs so I didn’t start sobbing in front of my closest friend.
“Dude, it’s gonna be okay. I know you’re broken up about Isla and I didn’t mean to drag your sister into it too, except by way of example. You do push people away, and maybe you’re doing that now to Isla, is all I’m saying.”
“Oh, I’m definitely doing that. She needs to be pushed far away so I can take a deep breath eventually again without my lungs seizing up.”
I’d barely made it out the door of her house before feeling overcome with an urge to both vomit and suffocate on the last breath I’d taken. Before I’d walked a block, I was calling Raf and telling him Isla and I were through. He didn’t need any more information. He just came.
It felt like my soul was dying, knowing I wasn’t going to see her again. No one had ever gotten me worked up like that before.
I’d never loved anyone as much as her before either, not even close.
I went back to the couch and slumped into the pillows with my tequila. This was how I’d spend the rest of my life. Raf was sitting close to the coffee table, so I pointed at my phone. “Hand me that, will ya?”
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