Page 132 of Resisting Isaac

Elena might puree my balls in a blender and put them into salsa.

Elena.Infuriatingly stubborn ass woman.

The alcohol gives me courage I didn’t have earlier. We’re technically married. Sort of. The woman went from looking at me like I was everything she ever wanted to freezing me out like I was suddenly repulsive to her.

I’d heard marriage could do that, but damn. I figured it would take a little longer than five minutes for her to have buyer’s remorse.

“I have to go,” I say to no one in particular. My legs start moving toward the exit.

“Where you going? You’re going to miss the good part,” Beau calls out after me.

There’s nothing good about this night.

CHAPTER FIFTY

elena

Idon’t expect the knock.

Not at this hour.

Through the window, I see Isaac Logan leaning on the door frame.

I open the door and remain in the doorway, knowing I’m in trouble if I let him in. In more ways than one.

Isaac leans against the frame like it’s holding him up. His hair a tousled mess, shirt half-untucked, boots muddy. The air reeks of whiskey and regret. But his eyes are shining like he’s lit up from the inside.

“It’s late, Isaac,” I greet him with a tired sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to stop in and tell you something.”

“At midnight? It couldn’t wait until morning?”

He nods. Then frowns. Then shakes his head.

“It couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait.”

I sigh heavily. “Okay, so tell me.”

He stares at me like I’m an algebraic equation he can’t quite solve but is determined to.

“I love you. I’minlove with you.”

The words come out sure and strong, but his voice is raw. There’s a slight slur happening.

I gape at him. “Are you drunk? Did you drive like this?”

“Brett drove me home.” He blinks slowly. “Don’t care if I’m drunk. Don’t care if you regret marrying me. I love you, spitfire. You’re mean and kind of scary and I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten again, stinging the corners. I’ve cried enough for ten lifetimes today. And I never cry. I spent the last few hours convincing myself it was better this way. We just got caught up in the ceremony, that’s all. But this couldn’t last. Even if it could, Diego wouldn’t let it. We needed a clean break. No sense giving this man false hope.

But he’s standing here looking like heartbreak personified, and all I can do is stare.

“I meant what I said during our ceremony. Every second I’ve spent with you has meant something to me.” His voice cracks and he’s slurring his words a little more. “It wasn’t fake for me. Even if it was fake for you.”

“Isaac—”

He steps closer. “I can’t walk away, spitfire. Not tonight. Please don’t make me.”