“Oh, I’m so jealous,” Elodie squeaked. “You have to at least tell her how much I adore her videos. She’s so incredible!”
“This is just because you are both Australian,” Fiero teased from off-camera.
“It is not,” Elodie grinned, and then winked at Gabe. “But it doesn’t hurt.” Elodie leaned a little closer then. “What’s she like in person?”
Gabe stared at the phone, lost for words. How could he describe Isabella?
What adjectives would do her justice? She was kind, interesting, funny, confident, courageous. But none of those captured her spirit and his inability to find just the right word for Isabella was somehow infuriating. “I don’t know. Just like she seems on the videos,” he said, though even that wasn’t completely true.
“Is that it?” Elodie pleaded, so Gabe made a strangled sound that was a little like a laugh.
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. You must have something else…”
She’s beautiful. Fiery. An incredible lover.
He closed his eyes for a minute, acutely aware that somewhere in this huge house Elodie was breathing the same air, hearing the same howling wind, and yet he wasn’t with her. He wasn’t near her. It felt as though he was defying one of the laws of nature by keeping his distance.
“She’s…”
“Yes?”
He compressed his lips, drawing a blank. “I’m sorry, Elodie. I don’t have anything more for you.”
“Oh.” Elodie smiled kindly. “Don’t worry about it. Just have fun.” She snuggled into Fiero so both were on the screen, their love for one another so obvious, Gabe felt an ungenerous desire to disconnect the call. In the last few years, his brothers and cousins had seemingly made it their mission to pair off and get all loved up. He couldn’t go back to Villa Fortune these days without having to witness some overt display of matrimonial contentment.
Frustration whipped through him.
It wasn’t like he had to go home often.
He had Il Nido.
“How’s Yaya?”
“She’s well,” Fiero said, sharing a look with Elodie and then grimacing. “Though she is not quite as well as I have seen her.”
Something chilled inside Gabe’s gut. “What do you mean?”
“She had a stroke, Gabe. What do you expect? She’s older, and despite what we all want, there’s no way she’ll go on forever. You know that, right?”
Gabe felt as though he had a rock boulder on his chest. “Of course,” he said quietly. “I’m not an idiot.” But they all were, when it came to Yaya. The woman who’d raised them was so much a part of their lives, he couldn’t imagine life without her. It was a possibility none of them had really contemplated.
“It would be good if you could be here for Christmas.”
I could turn it into Gravlax for Christmas morning.
He pushed Isabella from his mind. She wasn’t a part of his life, nor his plans. She couldn’t be.
“I will be, if at all possible.” He looked towards the window, where the wind was howling. “I’d have been there days ago, if this storm hadn’t blown in.”
“And then you’d have missed Isabella Moss,” Elodie pointed out with a smile.
“Exactly.” He couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his brow.
Fiero laughed. “You’re annoyed you’ve been interrupted.”
“I’m — not annoyed,” Gabe corrected.
“Yes, you are. You like to go there to brood every December, and now you’ve got company.”
“I doubt it’s a hardship,” Elodie pointed out. “She seems so fun and friendly. I’m sure she’s excellent company.”
“That’s not the point,” Gabe said, looking towards the door. No Isabella. “I come here to be alone. Completely and utterly. I do not want to have a house guest – no matter how charming.”
Gabe disconnected the call as soon as he could, feeling even less settled than he had done before.
Isabella bloody Moss. It wasn’t enough that she’d taken over his every waking thought, but now she was infiltrating his family too?
He strode into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge and draining half of it before realising she was sitting at the kitchen table. Eating. Alone.
Guilt washed through him.
He took a second to study her, something flicking inside of him.
“Isabella.”
She blinked up at him, surprise on her face and then consternation. She scrambled to pick up a thick notepad and pen, standing and lifting her plate. “I didn’t think — you weren’t around. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Hell. Is that what she thought he wanted? He couldn’t say he blamed her. He’d been colder than ice since they’d slept together.
“Wait.”
She flinched a little, her eyes wounded when they met his. He sighed heavily. “Don’t go.”
She looked towards the door, as though measuring her means of escape. Hell, he’d made a mess of this.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he returned to the fridge, pulling out a wine bottle and filling a glass. He held it towards her as a peace offering. She eyed it carefully, then shook her head.
“I should go,” she said quietly. “I have work to do.”
It was the right thing to do. The smart thing. But he didn’t want her to keep avoiding him. He was sick of knowing she was here and not being able to see her nor touch her.
“This isn’t — I’m not —,”
“Yes?” She pursed her lips in a gesture of impatience.
“This isn’t about you,” he said, finally.
“You’ve told me that already,” she said quietly. “You told me it’s about you coming here to be alone, and so I’m leaving you alone. That’s what you want, right?”
Wasn’t it?
What the hell was the matter with him?
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Great question. He slammed back his beer, cradling the cold bottle in the palm of his hand and watching her thoughtfully.
“I like being with you.”
She rolled her eyes and began to stalk past him. “That’s just sex,” she snapped. “And I know that’s what we agreed to, so I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but liking sleeping with me isn’t the same thing as liking being with me.”
“I know that.” His hand reached out and curled around her wrist,
