by Paula Kay
There was that look that Isabella knew so well. When she saw it, her heart started to slow from its faster than normal beating. She didn’t want Thomas to have a girlfriend right now—not when they were just getting ready to finally spend several months together. That was the hard, honest truth. She wanted her best friend that she hadn’t seen for several months. She tried to pull herself together again, wishing that they’d not chosen to do a video chat that morning. Thomas could always tell when something was wrong with Isabella. He said he could read her face as well as his own when he looked in the mirror.
“Iz? Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna change our plans, okay? I still can’t wait to see you, goofball.”
Isabella laughed and everything seemed normal between them once again. She took a deep breath, careful to not make it obvious on the camera as she did so. “Well, I’m sure I’ll like Natasha if you like her so much. So, is she there? I should meet her.”
“No. She just left. She works kinda crazy hours. She’s an investment banker.”
“Really? Wow. Thomas, how old is Natasha?”
There was no mistaking the blush that quickly rose to Thomas’s cheeks. “Well, she is older.”
“How much older? Spill it.” Isabella laughed but inside she was preparing herself for the answer. She didn’t want Natasha to be anything older than the twenty-somethings that Thomas typically dated. An older woman would be more serious, and that thought caused an ache in Isabella’s stomach.
“She’s thirty-three, Iz. Okay? She’s from London, has a very good career, and for some crazy reason she seems to like me quite a lot.” He laughed and Isabella guessed that he desperately wanted to change the subject. “You’ll meet her soon enough, and I really hope you two like one another. Now, can we talk about you, my love?”
Isabella grinned back at him. Thomas was forever being goofy with her with his silly terms of endearment and she’d missed his daily teasing. He’d always been there to lift her up when she was feeling down or unsure of herself. Thomas had been her biggest cheerleader since the day they’d met in the fifth grade.
“Okay, okay. You’re off the hook for now, but don’t think that I don’t want to hear more about what’s going on between you and Natasha.”
“Deal. We’ll talk more about it later—maybe when I have a better idea of what’s actually going on myself.”
There it was. That made Isabella feel better all of a sudden. It wasn’t serious. Thomas was just having some fun with the older woman he’d met who happened to be some glamorous British businesswoman from London. She’d have her Thomas back in no time and things would be normal once again. Her Thomas. She giggled, thankful that she was the only witness to the crazy thoughts in her head.
“Iz? What’s so funny? And what the heck is going on with you? Let’s talk about you now. You look great, by the way.”
“Thanks. And nothing’s funny. And yes, I do have some news, actually.”
“Yeah, what you were texting me about last night. What’s up? I’ve been wondering what it is you have to tell me.”
“You know how I’ve been talking with my birth father these past months—with Lucas?”
“Yeah. And I think that’s awesome—and slightly unbelievable—in a good way, of course.”
“Well, it looks like we’re finally going to meet in person. He invited me to come there—to go to San Francisco—for Thanksgiving.”
“Wow, that’s great, Iz. And your parents? What do Emily and Richard think about this plan?” Thomas winked as he asked the question, and Isabella felt that grateful feeling that she’d had toward her parents ever since they’d showed such amazing support for her travel plans, something that still slightly shocked her.
“Well, now that you mention it, I guess I’ve not told them yet. But I don’t have plans with them until Christmas anyway. They’re planning to come to the villa.” As the words left her lips, Isabella remembered that she hadn’t officially invited Thomas for Christmas yet and she really wanted him to come. Given their conversation so far—about Natasha and London—she felt she’d do better to wait to invite him in person. He knew how much she wanted to introduce him to everyone—to her new wonderful extended family; she’d practically put money on the fact that he’d say yes. But she’d wait for that for now.
“It does sound like your parents have been handling everything so well—incredibly well, really. I mean, who knew that they’d be so supportive of you doing things that didn’t include your dreams of going to Harvard. I’m still shocked by it all, if I’m being honest.”
“You’re not kidding. I’ve been shocked too, but ever since I found out about Arianna, they’ve done nothing but give me their support. And really, Thomas—they love the vineyard, my grandparents, and everyone just as much as I do. Those Italians sure do know how to make one feel welcome.”
“So I’ve heard. I can’t wait to get to Italy myself. And of course I do want to meet your family soon too.”
There it was—the perfect opportunity to bring up Christmas. How could she not bring it up?
“So, about meeting my family. Funny you should say.” Isabella laughed. “Thomas, I want to invite you for Christmas—at the villa. It will be so lovely and you’ll be able to meet everyone then—well, aside from Lucas, but I’m sure that we’ll work on getting him out there too at some point soon. Say you’ll come.”
Thomas looked noticeably uncomfortable as Isabella waited for his answer to her invitation.
“We’ll see, okay, Iz? Thanks for the invitation. Of course, I’d love to come—I can’t wait to meet your family. I—I just have to see how things go here, so can we talk about it again later?”
Isabella’s heart plummeted again. She didn’t remember a conversation between her and Thomas ever making her feel so emotional, and she hated it.
“Okay. Sure. We can talk about it later. And on that note, I better run. I don’t wanna keep Jemma and the others waiting too long.” Isabella made herself smile into the camera.
“Iz? Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad, okay?”
“No. No, not at all. Promise.” She smiled again, but she really felt like crying. She wasn’t mad but she was feeling hurt. Something was changing between her and Thomas, and she had a strong suspicion that that something was Natasha. At least she had some time to mentally prepare herself for it before she saw them together in a few weeks. She’d be ready for it by then.
“Okay. Good. Iz?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you like crazy and I can’t wait to see you.”
Isabella smiled and it wasn’t forced at all this time. “I miss you too. Chat next week? Normal time?”
“It’s a date. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Thanks. Have a good day, Thomas.”
Isabella clicked the button that ended their conversation and stared at her computer screen for a few minutes, trying to process how she was feeling about the conversation that they’d just had. It wasn’t like her to feel jealous—if that was even the right word to describe the way she was feeling. She sighed.
Everything was going to be fine. Her friendship with Thomas was going to be fine, and as long as this Natasha was a nice woman, she’d have to learn to just be happy for Thomas when it came to his relationships. They weren’t kids any more, so sooner or later it was going to happen for both of them. And besides, deep down in her heart, she really did suspect that Natasha wasn’t going to be in the picture for long. That was the thought that she’d be hanging on to for now—even if it was kind of twisted in a way.
Chapter 6
Isabella looked around the table at the small group of women who seemed to be enjoying their food and the lively conversation that was going on at the typical Parisian cafe. It was a beautiful morning and the tables outside were crowded with families, friends, and couples. Isabella plastered a smile on her face, but it wasn’t where she wanted to be in that moment.
She smiled at Jemma sitting next to her as her friend reached ove
r to put her hand on Isabella’s arm and whispered to her.
“Hey, are you okay? You seem pretty quiet.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Bella, you’re not fine. I can tell. Was it your call with Thomas?”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. Everything will be fine. I don’t wanna think about it right now.” Isabella looked up as the waiter set her drink down in front of her, happy for the slight distraction. Jemma’s eyes were still on her as she took a sip of her drink. “Jem, I’m fine. Can we talk about it later? Please?”
Jemma gave Isabella’s arm a slight squeeze. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. Really.”
Isabella tried to be cheerful throughout the rest of breakfast, but the truth was that she was very thankful when it was time for her and Jemma to say goodbye to the other women. She did need to talk to her friend about what had her feeling so strange. Jemma would help her to feel better about things. She seemed to have that effect on her.
“Okay, so I’m kinda guessing that you’re not up for shopping?”
Isabella gave her friend a quick hug. “Do you mind? I’m just really not in the mood. But I do want to talk. Maybe we can go for a walk in the park?”
Their apartment was only a few blocks from a gorgeous park that the two loved to sit in a few days a week. Jemma would paint there, and Isabella had found a quiet table under a tree that was very conducive to her writing. It had become one of their favorite spots in Paris.
“Of course.” Jemma laughed. “It’ll give me a chance to work off some of that big breakfast I just ate.”
They walked the four blocks to the park in comfortable silence. Isabella had grown to appreciate this about their friendship—she never felt any judgment from Jemma and she knew that she could trust her with anything. It was a new thing for her—having such a strong connection with another girl. Finally she knew what she’d been missing all those years in high school, not having a best girlfriend—not that she’d imagined any other friendship could ever take the place of the one she’d always had with Thomas.
Thomas. Just thinking about him made her stomach tug. What was wrong with her? It was probably nothing—this weird sinking feeling she’d had ever since their conversation had ended earlier.
“So, what’s up?”
Isabella looked up at her friend’s voice, wondering if she could even begin to verbalize what she wasn’t even sure she was feeling. It was always best to just blurt things out with Jemma. She was that kind of girl—no nonsense, get right to the point.
“So, apparently this girl Thomas mentioned last week—”
“The London girl?”
Isabella nodded. “Yeah, so in actuality she’s not a girl at all—in fact, she’s thirty-three—and Thomas is living with her all of a sudden. Oh, and she has a name—Natasha.” Isabella hated the way the name sounded coming out of her mouth. She stopped on the footpath and then turned to walk over to one of the benches, Jemma following behind her.
“Hm.”
“What’s hm?” Isabella was trying not to cry. She refused to be that emotional about the whole silly thing.
“Why do you think you’re so upset about it?”
“Oh, I dunno, Jem. I mean, Thomas can date whomever he wants. I’ve never said anything about the girls he dates. And believe me, there’s been quite a few.”
“Okay, so what feels different about this? Are you sure you don’t have feelings for him? I know we’ve joked about it—talked about it before—and you always deny it, but I dunno—”
Isabella was shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t think that’s it.”
“You don’t think that’s it? Come on, Bella.”
“No. I mean, he’s like a brother to me. If anything—if there’s any jealousy there, I think it’s just that I haven’t seen him for a while. I miss him. And I guess if I’m being honest, I don’t wanna share him when we get to London. Does that make sense?”
Jemma reached over to pull Isabella in for a hug. “It does make sense.”
Isabella pulled away and wiped at a few tears that had somehow escaped down her cheeks, even though she’d been trying desperately not to get so emotional. She sniffled. “Ack. I don’t know why I’m crying right now. It’s really not that big of a deal, is it?”
Jemma smiled. “I think you’re just feeling kinda stressed—with the book, probably with me on your case about not having enough fun.” She laughed lightly. “You probably just need to let out some emotions in general, ya know?”
“You do make a good point.”
Isabella had become much more self aware and much better about expressing herself since she’d left her home in Connecticut months ago, but holding in her feelings and her stress was an old habit that she’d probably need to keep working on for a while. Jemma was a great role model in that regard.
“So, wanna hear my idea?”
Jemma was grinning when Isabella looked over at her.
“Sure.”
“I say we go by the corner shop, get a pint of that lovely home-made ice cream that you love so much, and then go rent sad French movies at the movie shop down the road. What do you say? Can you take a little time off today? I’ll even be in charge of building the fire.”
“Sad movies? Why not something funny maybe?”
Jemma shrugged. “You know—so you have a reason to cry.”
Isabella laughed, incredibly thankful for this friendship that she’d found so unexpectedly. Jemma always seemed to know the right things to do and say to cheer her up.
“That sounds like a marvelous plan. What would I ever do without you?”
Jemma didn’t miss a beat in her reply. “Sit in front of your computer every day—all day—writing books based on all the angst and desperation you’re feeling because you have no best friend to talk it over with and ending your life is not an option because you’re becoming the most famous author who ever lived.” Jemma stopped to finally take a breath and Isabella burst out laughing, already feeling so much better than she ever would have imagined a few hours earlier.
Chapter 7
Isabella stood up from tying her sneakers just as Jemma entered the living room. She zipped her hoodie up and grabbed her favorite light blue stocking cap from the hall closet.
“Hey. Morning.” Jemma yawned. “Where are you off to so early?”
“Morning. I can’t believe it’s our last full day here in Paris. I don’t know what I was thinking. The time really got away from me the last few weeks.”
“I know what you mean. I’m excited about London, but Paris—well, it’s Paris, right?” Jemma laughed. “I really do love it here. So, where are you off to? And do you want company?”
Isabella bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to hurt Jemma’s feelings—she should have gone with her to the Eiffel Tower weeks ago when she’d asked her to go. But today was just for her. It had to be that way.
Jemma understood. They’d talked about it before—at the first location they’d been to in Italy—the first location that had been on Arianna’s map after Tuscany. That was when she’d started it all. She gestured toward the table in response to Jemma’s question.
Jemma’s eyes followed Isabella’s until they landed on the object that sat wrapped up on the table, before Isabella crossed the room to pick it up and tuck it into the small purse around her shoulder.
“Oh. I didn’t realize that you’d not done that here yet. So, the Eiffel Tower?”
Isabella nodded
“It’s perfect, Bella. The view is amazing and you’re getting there early, so there won’t be many tourists. You should be able to find a quiet spot—at least for a few minutes.” Jemma took a step toward her, wrapping her arms around her neck in a quick hug. “Just don’t get arrested.” She whispered in her ear, giggling.
“You know me—I’ll be discreet as always.” Isabella smiled back at her friend before she walked out the door.
�
�Hey, wait.”
Isabella pushed the door back open before she’d had a chance to shut it tight, sticking her head back into the apartment.
“You forgot this.” Jemma handed her the leather journal that she’d left lying on the table in her rush to get going.
“Oh, thanks, Jem. I won’t be late.”
Isabella pulled her stocking cap on as soon as she stepped out into the cool early morning air. She walked quickly, thinking about how her last few weeks in Paris had been. She’d worked pretty much nonstop, determined to get her book in before the date she’d set with her editor. E-mailing it off to her the day before had felt extremely rewarding, and she’d celebrated by taking Jemma out to a very expensive dinner.
Today was about ending her time in Paris well, and this morning was all about her mother. She held the journal tightly to her chest as she thought about Arianna and Arianna’s letters to her. Isabella wondered how her birth mother would have spent her time in Paris, and the thought brought a sudden rush of regret. She had been missing too much of the trip. Jemma was right about that.
She tried to brush the thought aside. She was mostly done with the book now. It was time to focus on having some good times with her best friends.
Thomas. She smiled merely thinking about seeing him again after so many weeks had gone by. She’d worked hard to calm her feelings of jealously and for the most part had decided to look forward to seeing him without any worry as to how it would all unfold. She’d cross that bridge later, if and when things seemed any different between them. But she had to have faith in a friendship that really had stood the test of time all these years. And besides, knowing Thomas, things with Natasha probably weren’t as serious as she’d imagined them to be.
Isabella looked up to see the Eiffel Tower and a line of people waiting for their turn in the elevator, which, by a quick glance at the time, she guessed had only just begun taking visitors up the structure. She debated waiting with the other tourists, but then decided to walk the stairs to the first level, which she thought might be less crowded than the other platforms. She needed a little exercise anyway, having spent so much time at her computer the last few weeks.