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Chapter thirty-two

Isabelle

Several blissful summer days later, I’ve just left Gianni and Paul’s place, where we had a delicious lunch on their patio overlooking English Bay, when the call comes.

“Vito! It’s great to hear from you,” I say, turning my face up to the warm sun with a smile.

“Isabelle, how are you? We miss you,” my boss replies in his heavily accented English. Without giving me a chance to respond, he barrels on, as he usually does. “I have the news. We will be ready to open in ten days! They finish the work. It is che bella notizia , no?”

My feet stumble to a stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Tourists and locals alike bustle around me, some shooting me an annoyed glare as I stare forward, not seeing anything.

“A week. That’s, that’s so soon.”

“Si. Yes. It is very good. You can come home early. Yes?”

“I…I don’t know. My flight is booked for early September.” My mind races to do the math. “Three weeks from now. Changing it will be —”

“No trouble. I will pay for change. I need you here, Isabelle. You are my secondo . You must be here.”

Vito continues to rattle on, in his stilted half Italian, half English. But I’m not listening. I can’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears.

I thought I had three weeks to figure out what to do, how to handle leaving. And now I have a matter of days?

“Vito, I need to go, can we talk soon? I’ll call you and we can discuss plans. But I have to go.” I hang up the phone, for once being the one not to wait for an answer instead of him.

Walking the rest of the way to my car quickly, I convince myself not to break down and panic in public. And it works. I manage to get in the car, and safely drive to a quieter part of the city, where I find a park with an almost empty parking lot and pull in.

With trembling hands, I turn the car off and let my head fall down onto the steering wheel.

I can’t do this. I can’t leave Kai again. I love him too much. I love being here, being close to my mom, being with him, too much.

But Italy. The restaurant. My family. My future.

I want both of these lives. The life I have in Italy and the life I could have here. I worked so hard for what I have there, but how can I deny the truth any longer of how much Kai means to me?

Dragging in a slow breath, I pull out my phone and find my text messages with Kai. Maybe seeing him, talking to him, will help me feel more sure of my decision.

IZ: Are you at home?

KAI: Yep, just getting packed up for the away series, I gotta be at the stadium in 40 minutes.

IZ: I need to talk to you. Can you wait for me?

KAI: Of course. Everything okay?

IZ: I’ll tell you when I get there.

I make it to his building in just a few minutes. Somehow, in my earlier daze, the park I found to have my breakdown in was close to him. As if the universe or my soul knew I would need him.

He opens the door before I’ve had time to knock twice, and I throw my arms around his neck, pushing him inside.

“Woah, Iz, what’s going on, baby?” He holds me tightly with one arm, managing to close the door with the other. “Talk to me.”

I pull back slightly, and his thumb lifts to swipe away tears I didn’t realize had fallen.

“You’re scaring me.”

“The restaurant in Italy is done early. The renovations. My boss wants me back there in a week.”

His thumb freezes on my cheek, and a mask covers his face. I hate that mask. It’s hiding his true feelings, and right now, I need to see them.

“Oh. Well, you have to go, then.” His voice is wooden, and when he steps away, I have to bite my tongue to hold back a sob.

“It sucks we won’t have more time together.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.” He pulls his hat off his head and runs his thumb and forefinger along the brim where my initials are.

Oh God. I don’t know what to say right now. I thought I would figure it out once I saw him, but instead, I’m even more lost. Because it feels like he’s closing the door on us.

But before I can get a single word out, he locks his gaze on me, and I see that damn mask fall away. And the raw emotion etched across his face makes my breath catch in my throat. Raw emotion and sharp determination.

With two steps, he closes the distance he’d put between us, and I’m back in his arms. Crushed against his chest.

“Isabelle, I have to tell you something. My biggest regret in life is that eight years ago, I let you leave without asking you to stay. Without begging you to come home and give us a chance. Give me a chance. I would’ve made it work, somehow.”

His arms squeeze me impossibly tighter, and I feel his chest rise as he takes a deep inhale.

“I loved you with all of my heart back then. And I still do today. I don’t want to look back and regret not saying it this time.

So I’m begging you, Iz. Don’t go. Don’t leave me again.

We can have a good life together. I don’t know what it’ll look like, and I know you’ve got dreams and goals, but all I’m asking is for a chance to help you reach them with me at your side. ”

My mouth falls open as I angle my head to stare up at him. Of all the things I hoped he’d say, this is better.

So much better.

And yet, so much worse.

An alarm starts going off on his phone, the obnoxious foghorn sound that I know from years ago is his last alarm, the one that says he’s out of time, if not already late for something. I used to tease him about needing three alarms to get out the door sometimes, but it worked for him.

“Shit.” He drops his forehead to meet mine before shifting up to kiss the same spot.

“I have to go, Iz. Please think about it. Okay? Don’t make any decisions, and for the love of God, don’t leave before I’m back.

” His tone is desperate, pleading, even.

“I’ll be home in four days. Tell me you’ll still be here. ”

I nod, still stunned speechless by what he’s just said.

“Good.” He kisses me again, this time on the lips, his hands cradling my face as if I’m the most precious thing in his entire world. “Promise me you’ll think about what I said? About giving us a chance?”

I nod again. Oh God, why can’t I make myself say something? Why am I not telling him I love him, too, and I want nothing more than to make it work between us?

He steps away, bending down to pick up his bag. The smile he gives me is one I haven’t seen in eight years. It’s full of hope and love.

“There’s a spare key in the drawer beside the fridge. Stay as long as you want. And maybe” — he pauses, licking his lips — “maybe you could be here when I get back?”

“Yes,” I manage to whisper, a shaky smile on my face. He gives me one more kiss, then turns to open the door. And I finally come unfrozen. I can’t let him leave without saying or doing something.

I rush to him and throw my arms around him from behind. He moves swiftly, spinning around and lifting me off the ground, his lips finding mine in a desperate, messy, passionate kiss.

“Kai —”

“Don’t say it, Iz. Don’t say anything right now,” he begs. “Please. Let me go, believing I’m gonna come home to you. That we’ve got time to talk after this trip. Please.”

He sets me down and steps out the door with one last parting statement. “You’ve got four days, Iz. Four days to decide whether what we had, what we could have again, is worth staying this time.”

He disappears into the elevator without another look back. But it takes me several seconds before I step back into his apartment and close the door before sinking to the floor.

He still loves me.