"Thanks, man. I was so wrong when I thought it would just be a quick fling, Theo. So fucking wrong it's almost funny. I had no idea what I was walking into."
"And you're absolutely sure about this?" Theo asks. "What ifJean-Pierre does find out and pulls the deal? What if you lose the Seattle restaurant because of this? Is it worth that risk?"
I watch Isabelle as she ends her call and starts walking back toward me, her face lit up with satisfaction from whatever victory she just won. She catches my eye and smiles.
"She's worth it," I say simply, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "The restaurant, the deal, all of it—none of it matters as much as she does."
Isabelle reaches me and drops into the seat next to me, immediately leaning against my shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. I wrap my arm around her automatically, pulling her closer.
"Who's that?" she mouths, pointing at my phone.
"Theo," I mouth back, and she nods, settling more comfortably against me.
"Well," Theo says, and I can hear both resignation and affection in his voice, "I guess I better start planning to meet her then. And Alex? For what it's worth, I hope it works out. I really do. You deserve to be this happy."
"Thanks, Theo."
"Just try not to get yourself killed by an angry French restaurateur before you make it to Dark River, okay?"
"I'll do my best," I say.
We say our goodbyes and I hang up, tucking my phone in my pocket. Isabelle looks up at me, curiosity written all over her face.
"How'd that go?" she asks.
"He thinks I'm insane but he's happy for me anyway," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Typical Theo. How'd your call go? You looked pretty triumphant."
"I won," she says smugly, grinning up at me.
"That's my girl," I say.
"We should probably not do this on the plane," she says, even as she snuggles closer into my side.
"Probably smart," I agree reluctantly. "Several days of being professional. We can do this."
"A few very long days," she sighs. "But at least the nights will make up for it."
"That's the plan," I say, and kiss her one more time before our flight boards and we have to go back to pretending we're just colleagues.
A few days. We can survive a few days.
CHAPTER 21
Isabelle
Seattle is beautiful, which is genuinely annoying.
I'd been counting on rain and gray skies to match my increasingly foul mood ever since my father started micromanaging every detail of this trip the second we met up with him at the airport. Gloomy weather would have felt perfectly cinematic, and would have validated my sulking.
Instead the sky is a sharp, cloudless blue. The sun is hitting the water and Mount Rainier is visible—white and snowcapped and absolutely impossible against the skyline, dominating the view like a giant watching over the city. The trees lining the streets are the deep, saturated green of a place that gets enough rain to be lush and tropical-looking.
It's infuriating how pretty it all is.
"I thought Seattle was supposed to be gray and depressing," I say to Alex as we walk from the hotel toward the waterfront.
My father had a car service waiting at the airport, checked us into the hotel with ruthless efficiency—separate rooms on opposite ends of the building, naturally, because god forbid webe near each other—and announced the trip schedule like a drill sergeant.
He’s now power-walking toward a meeting with his attorney while Alex and I trail behind at a pace that could generously be calledleisurelyand more accurately be calleddeliberate stalling.