“That will cost a fortune.”
Isabella waved a hand through the air. “It’s a business expense; it’s fine.” She felt both better and worse. Better for having taken control but worse, oh so much worse, to have heard Gabe so clearly spell out his feelings, even as hope had started to burst through her.
He didn’t love her.
He wanted her gone – he’d be glad when she was gone.
Lauren tried to change Isabella’s mind the whole way to the salon, but Isabella was resolute.
“I’ve already booked the uber,” she explained gently. “It will be here soon.” She waved her hand to show the app on her phone.
“What’s this about an uber?” Max asked from across the room. Silence fell.
She was conscious of everyone’s eyes on her, but Gabe’s most of all.
“I just checked my emails for the first time in days. I need to be in Florence first thing tomorrow; I have to leave.” She swept her gaze over the room, feeling a spark of anxiety as her eyes landed on Gabe. She saw the tightening of his face, the throbbing of a muscle in his jaw, but she refused to weaken. He didn’t want her to stay. He wanted the exact opposite, and she was giving it to him. Whatever she’d imagined they shared had been an illusion. She’d been completely wrong. Even the intensity of his expression now was just Gabe – she’d mistaken it for something else, something more. She’d been wrong.
“Surely you can put off the meeting?” Elodie interjected.
It took all Isabella’s concentration to smile brightly, as though nothing whatsoever was wrong. “It’s important,” she fibbed. “And I am in Italy primarily to work.”
“But –,” Elodie gestured to the Christmas tree. “It’s Christmas.”
“I know,” she smiled – it hurt, pushing her face into a lie. “This is important. Thank you all so much for including me.” At least now the thickness in her throat could be excused by affection.
Gabe stood; she didn’t look at him. Instead, she crossed to Yaya, who was sitting in a chair by the tree. “Thank you for everything.” She crouched down, her back intentionally to Gabe. She lowered her voice. “I’m going to leave your recipe book. I think you might have got the wrong idea about Gabe and me. It was very kind of you, but it wouldn’t be right to keep it.” She stood up before Yaya could object. “Thank you again.” She squeezed Yaya’s hand then turned, encompassing the group in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Merry Christmas.”
Of course, it wasn’t so simple. Each family member came to give her a hug and say goodbye personally. She was onto Fiero – the last except for Gabe – when her phone buzzed, alerting her that the uber driver was out the front. A moment later, her phone began to ring.
She answered it, holding a finger up to Gabe, who was the last member of the Montebellos she had to farewell.
“I’m here,” the driver spoke in halting English per her app’s request. “But there’s a security gate. How do I get through?”
“I’ll come out. Just give me five minutes, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll wait.”
She disconnected the call then fixed Gabe with a polite smile. Her heart hurt like crazy. Everything hurt.
“What are you doing?” He put a hand in the small of her back, guiding her towards the door, away from his family. She could feel their attention, and knew they were being watched. Keeping her back straight, she exited the room.
“Leaving.” She answered directly; it seemed best. “I just have to get my bag.”
“I’ll get your damned bag,” he snapped, then dragged a hand through his hair, looking at her intently. “Why now?”
“I told you.” Her tone was clipped. She felt defensive and wounded, hurt beyond bearing. “I have a meeting.”
“So I’ll fly you there later tonight, or tomorrow morning first thing. There’s no need to leave now.”
“I’d prefer to be settled, get my head into gear. I need to focus on work now.”
Her heart was breaking, but Isabella knew the pain of rejection. She’d felt its particular sting enough times to know the only way to lessen that hurt was to control her departure. If she left on her terms, she’d at least retain her pride.
He reached out, lacing his fingers through hers. Her stomach ached.
“My driver’s here.”
“Cancel the car. I’ll take you.”
“No. This is special to Yaya. You have to stay.” She did her best to smile. “Come on, Gabe, now or tomorrow, what’s the difference? We both knew I was leaving at some point.”
She felt as though a tonne of cement had been poured onto her chest. Extricating her fingers from his, she took a step backwards. “I bet you’ll be glad to see the back of me,” she couldn’t help remarking, delivering his statement back to him.
His frown was reflexive. An instantaneous curving of his lips.
“Stay tonight.”
It wasn’t a denial, just a request for more time. A stay of the executioner’s axe, but only a temporary one. And to what end?
“No, Gabe. It has to be now.”
He swore under his breath. “Why?”
“What are you doing?” She asked with a small, weary laugh. “We both know this is for the best. You don’t have to act as though it’s not what you want. Is it that you’re worried you’ll hurt me if you don’t fight for me to stay? I know exactly how you feel, there’s no need to pretend otherwise.”
He stared at her for several long seconds. “You’re leaving because of how I feel? Or because of your meeting?”
Damn it. She’d said too much and he was too astute to miss it.
“Both, neither. Damn it, Gabe, I have to go.”
“You’re choosing to go.”
She turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor towards the bedroom they’d been sharing. It was heart-wrenching to walk in and see that
