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CHAPTER FOUR

DANGLING BY A THREAD

Camille's voice disrupted the whole air, seeping into my ears. "Izzy? Are you up?"

I jumped back so fast I slammed into the counter. The pain barely registered; all I could feel was the space between us now.

Alexander moved like water, calm and controlled, and by the time Camille's footsteps reached the doorway, he was leaning against the far counter, glass in hand with a perfectly neutral expression.

"There you are." Camille appeared in the doorway, squinting against the light. Her eyes bounced between us. "What's going on?"

"I couldn't sleep." My voice came out too high, so I cleared my throat. "Came to get water."

"Both of you?"

"Your father was already here." I forced a laugh. "Scared the hell out of me, actually. Walked in and there he was, all..." I gestured vaguely at his chest, then remembered he'd put on a shirt. Thank God. "You know."

Camille's gaze lingered on her father, then she yawned. "This house is huge, and you two manage to pick the same room at 3 AM. Typical."

"Great minds," Alexander said smoothly. "Your friend was just leaving."

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, for show, and headed for the door.

I didn't sleep.

At 7 AM, I gave up and dragged myself to the terrace. The sunrise was obscene, all gold and pink and purple, like the universe was showing off. I slumped into a lounge chair and pressed my palms against my eyes.

What do you want, Isabella?

His voice echoed in my head repeatedly. I knew what I wanted; that was the problem.

"You look like death."

I dropped my hands to see Camille holding two cups of coffee. She handed me one and collapsed into the chair beside me.

"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked.

"Woke up and couldn't get back." She sipped her coffee. "Why couldn't you sleep? Everything okay?"

No, everything is not okay. I think I'm obsessed with your father.

"Fine," I said. "Just jet lag still."

"Mmm." She was quiet for a moment before disappointing words left her mouth.

"My father's leaving today."

My heart dropped instantly to the pit of my stomach. "What?"

"Business in Paris. He has an emergency meeting with the foundation board. He'll be gone a few days." She shrugged. "Probably for the best; he's intense to have around."

He was just going to disappear for a few days?

Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest. " When?"

"This afternoon." She stretched. "Which means we have the house to ourselves again. Pool day?"

"Sure," I heard myself agree, but my brain was stuck on loop.

He's leaving. He's leaving, and I won't see him for days. That should be good, right? I mean, distance is good. Then why did it feel like losing something I never had?

I spent the day avoiding thoughts of him.

Pool. Lunch. More pool. Camille talked about her painter, I pretended to listen, and every time a car passed on the road below, my head snapped up like a trained dog.

You're pathetic, Isla.

At 4 PM, I heard the low sound of an engine and the crunch of gravel.

I ran to the window like a child deprived of freedom. But I stopped just before I got to the glass. I didn't need to look as pathetic as I felt.

He stepped out, phone pressed to his ear, leather bag slung over one shoulder. He was saying something in French, then he paused and looked up. Straight at me.

Even from this distance, even through the heat shimmer rising from the driveway, I felt the weight of that look.

He didn't wave-not like I expected him to. He didn't smile either; he just held my gaze for one endless second before turning toward the house.

___

"You came here for a vacation, and all you want to do is stay cooped up in this room?" Camille asked for the hundredth time because I refused to go with her to a party.

"That's not what it is. I'm just not in the mood for a party," I said for the hundredth time.

She hummed, squinting her eyes as she used her index finger to tap her chin like she was in a deep thought.

"Being too long in a relationship with Julien is beginning to rub off on you."

I rolled my eyes and just kept quiet. I had run out of answers to give to her.

"Fine. Soothe yourself. Marry your sheets."

Finally, she walked out, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I'd barely gotten two thoughts in when my phone began to buzz.

I picked it up, and it was... Julien?

"Hey, baby."

He sounded so foreign to my ears.

"Umm... hi, I didn't expect to see your call."

He let out a sigh. "I know. I just felt guilty for the way I wrote you off. I'm sorry, my love."

His words instantly placed a smile on my face, and I was reminded why I was still in a relationship with him. Reminded that he was all I needed.

"It's been barely three days, and I miss you already."

I hugged my pillow at his words, tucking my hair behind my ear. Julien and I spoke for the longest time. Twenty minutes! And we were still going.

Then my phone buzzed with an indication of a text message. I pulled my phone away from my ear with a frown on my face and placed Julien's call on loudspeaker.

The message was from an unknown number. My frown deepened.

Unknown number: I'll be back before you know it. Stay out of trouble.

I stared at the message and instantly knew who it was from. He'd gotten my number. From Camille? From somewhere else? And he texted me?

He sounded like we had done something when we didn't. We only exchanged about fifty words and stood close in a kitchen.

That was all.

So why the hell do I feel excited? And my resolve had flown through the window.