Page 21

“You started without me!” Isabel exclaims, seeing our half-empty glasses.

Paige and I smile at each other. Isabel has three brothers. We’ve adopted her into our sister circle seamlessly. Dana, Adam’s sister-in-law, is really great and sometimes comes with us, but with her own sisters to deal with, she doesn’t need our drama too.

So while I wasn’t expecting Isabel, I’m not surprised in the least she showed up. Like with Adam, if it was anyone other than Isabel, I’d be jealous and uncomfortable at the thought of sharing my sister with someone else.

But Isabel is just so ... Iz.

She drops her briefcase on the floor with a thud and the dogs, who’d been resting, pop their heads up at the commotion.

“Wait right there and do not speak another word until I get back,” she orders.

I laugh and go to take a sip of wine, but she halts me with a look.

“I can’t even drink?”

“No,” she says as she flies up the stairs .

There’s a muffled shout of surprise—Isabel must’ve burst into Adam and Paige’s room without knocking. There’s the distinct sound of Adam asking her what the hell she’s doing, but then the door slams and she’s back downstairs wearing a pair of Paige’s sleep shorts and one of Adam’s shirts.

After swirling her long blond hair into a messy knot on the top of her head, she pours herself a glass of wine and plops down on the couch beside me, sandwiching me between the two most chaotic women in my life.

Paige glares as Isabel’s wine almost spills from her glass. But she shoots Paige an apologetic look, her big blue eyes wide and pleading. Sighing, Paige drops it and they both turn their attention back to me.

“So, what are we talking about?”

I fill her in, Paige interjecting with commentary about her own feelings. Isabel listens intently. She may be a hurricane of chaos, but she’s whip smart. Her job as a defence attorney has honed her skills as a huntress, so she’s able to detect everything left unsaid between the lines.

When Paige informs her my running partner is Julien, she almost drops her wineglass.

“STOP! NO WAY!” She smacks my arm so hard I almost drop my glass.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my attention fixed on the sleepy dogs and not the two gossip hounds beside me.

Shrugging seems like the most noncommittal gesture I can make .

Paige jabs a finger at me. “Oh no, you’re not getting away with that. You forced me to spill details when Adam and I first started dating, there’s no way I’m letting you off the hook.”

“We’re not dating,” I tell them.

Paige snorts. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

That catches my attention. “He said that?”

“Oh, you loooove him, you want to kiss him,” Isabel teases, singing and shimmying her shoulders.

My sighs get more and more exasperated.

“No, he’s just convenient.” I feel a little guilty saying that.

“Yeah, so convenient to have a big, hunky French goalie as your running coach,” Isabel giggles. She’s such a lightweight, already tipsy after half a glass of wine. Paige laughs with her, and the sound of their joy surrounding me lightens my spirit.

I catch Paige’s eye and understanding passes between us. She’s still hurt, but she understands. It’s times like this, or when she drops by my house when I need her the most, when I wonder if she knows me better than I think she does.

“So”—Paige nudges me when their laughter has died down—“ do you like him?”

“No,” I say automatically. “I mean, he’s a jackass. He’s so surly and grumpy all the time.”

That’s not true either. I’ve seen the kindness in him, the gentleness. But still, those one-word commands, the backhanded compliments? Jackass.

“Everyone thinks he’s an asshole until they get to know him,” Isabel reassures me .

Something in my stomach sinks. He’s like this with everyone—I’m not special. He probably can’t help himself when he sees someone as terrible at running as I am.

Paige nods along with Isabel, cementing the feeling that tells me I was wrong to assume anything else. I was a damsel in distress. But he’s not a white knight, he’s a reluctant Frenchman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now feels obligated to help me.

Damn.

I put my wineglass on the coffee table as my thoughts spiral into self-pity territory. Maybe I’m becoming a lightweight like Isabel. I know better than to assume what someone else is thinking, especially after everything Paige and Adam went through. Assumptions can have far-reaching consequences, which end up separating literal soulmates for years.

Not that Julien and I are soulmates. He doesn’t like me that way—he can’t. He’s ... Well, he’s him. All sexy and big, gentle and so incredibly frustrating. And then there’s me, and I’m probably not who he usually falls for.

Forcing myself to banish the thoughts my brain is trying to shove down my throat is harder than it should be. I’m a strong, confident woman. Successful and smart.

But the thought of Julien not wanting to help me, thinking I’m pathetic, and treating everyone this way circles around, whispering doubt to the feeling that maybe he likes spending time with me, enjoys my company.

The image of his hands on my legs this morning returns for the millionth time. He didn’t have to do that. He definitely didn’t have to do it for as long as he did—I felt fine after a minute on each side, but he lingered.

I let him linger. If we hadn’t been in a public place, if Levi hadn’t been there, I would have let him ...

Nope. That train of thought ends there.

I do not want to go there. It’s simply my body’s natural reaction to a fucking sexy man touching me for the first time in years. Have I ever had someone that hot touch me? I don’t think so.

What could he possibly see in me? I’m not fit or toned. Sure, I love yoga and walking, but looking at me—you can definitely tell I enjoy food. And then there’s my scars, both my stretch marks from Levi and the evidence of my accident last year.

There’s no way he’d find me attractive enough. I couldn’t be his type.

“What about you?” I ask Isabel, desperate for a change of subject to get these spiralling thoughts out of my head. I know better than to disparage myself, but I’m not perfect. Clearly.

“What about me?” she asks.

“Are you dating anyone?” Paige asks. I look at her, and she confirms what I suspect. She’s helping me change the topic.

“No, when would I have the time?”

“Um, you could be on a date right now,” I suggest with a smile.

She laughs. “And miss sister time? No way!”

“Did you tell Dana we were getting together?” Paige asks. I like Adam’s oldest brother’s wife. She’s quiet but nice, and she puts Liam in his place.

“Of course, but she’s too tired. The baby hasn’t been sleeping. ”

“I remember those days. Sleep regression is a nightmare,” I add, mentally making a note on my never-ending to-do list to pop over and see if she needs any help or support.

Adam’s other brother Simon and his husband Jake have two kids as well, but I know Dana feels a little lonely sometimes. I wish she had come tonight.

“Stop changing the subject,” Paige says, bringing the attention back to Isabel.

“What do you want from me?” She fake pouts and I know there’s something there. Her face suddenly perks up, her eyes a little mischievous. “Oh, guess who I ran into the other day?”

“Who?” Paige and I say at the same time.

“You know that case I’ve been working on, the doctor vs. doctor one with the slimy lawyer?”

We nod.

“Well, Dr. Douche was there and stepped in when the other Dr. Douche tried to hit on me in front of Dr. Douche Three.”

“Wait, I’m confused. There are three Dr. Douches in this scenario?”

“Yup, Dr. Douche Two and Three are the ones involved in my case.”

“And who is Dr. Douche One?” I ask, and Isabel squirms in her seat, looking at Paige apologetically.

“Caleb.”

Paige’s jaw clenches and I feel the tension grow. Caleb was part of the reason Paige and Adam got disqualified from the ultramarathon where they met, leading to their two-year separation. Fate brought them back together, but Caleb is still a sore spot with them.

“Oh, come on,” Isabel says, pouting again. “Don’t make that face. Caleb is a doctor and I’m a malpractice attorney, I’m going to run into him from time to time. And he helped me get out of a jam.”

Paige nods slowly. “What did he say?”

Isabel shrugs. “Not much after the others left. We exchanged pleasantries. He heard about your engagement, asked me to pass along congratulations.”

Paige snorts.

“I get it, Paige, I do. I’ve known Caleb my whole life. He’s an asshole—a real one, not a fake one like Julien,” Isabel tosses in my direction. I roll my eyes. Subtle and Isabel have never been used in the same sentence. “You have every right to hate him.”

Paige is definitely done with this line of conversation. Isabel sees it too and lets it drop. “So,” Paige says, clearing her throat and turning to me, “are you excited about seeing your friend in action this weekend at the game?”