Page 78 of VOGUEish

She walked to her bed and plopped down. “I bet you were relieved to discover we didn’t get into a cat fight and drown each other before reaching shore.”

He walked toward her. “I admit that would have been hard to explain to the Board of Directors.”

A joke! He thought this was funny. Ass! “Which part? The drowning or the cat fight?”

His approach halted. “Did Annie tell you we were lovers?”

“She told me I could believe whatever I wanted to believe. She simply didn’t have the energy to care.”

He frowned and glanced in the direction of Annie’s room. “Is she okay? When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I’m not her keeper.”

Still looking toward Annie’s room, he said, “I wonder if she’s eaten anything today.”

Isabella threw a pillow at him, hitting him in his back. “Are you fucking kidding me!”

He turned toward her as if startled at the emotion in her voice.

“Annie is fine. She’s a grown-ass woman who is more than capable of deciding when she wants to eat. Or who she wants to screw.”

He picked up the pillow and tossed it back to her.

Isabella caught it and hung on to it like it was the last life preserver on the Titanic.

Her psyche told her to poke at him as painfully as he had at her. And she would…if only it were possible. It wasn’t. His punches had punctured her heart. All she could hope to damage with her jabs was his ego. “Go away.”

He didn’t. Instead, he took a seat next to her. “I don’t want to go away. I want to talk.”

“About what? I thought we’d covered it all.” She scooted, putting inches between them. “Or did you want to talk about the fact it’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m alone?” Last season’s wedges. Why had she brought that to his attention?

He grabbed her hand and tugged.

She didn’t budge. But she also didn’t disengage her hand. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Annie, but it’s not nothing.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right. It’s not nothing but it absolutely isn’t the kind of something you think it is.”

“Then explain it to me.”

His lips tightened and he shook his head.

Isabella yanked her hand out of his and flopped backward on the mattress. Couldn’t he see how much she needed the truth? The mixed messages were killing her. This was not the type of relationship she wanted with anyone. If trust didn’t exist between two individuals, nothing could grow. Trust was the Miracle-Gro of love. “Then I guess there’s nothing—”

A knock at her door stopped her words.

“Are you expecting someone?” Chandler asked.

“Probably Annie.” Isabella stared up at the ceiling.

The knocking grew louder. “Izzie?” someone said from the other side of the door.

Isabella sat up. She knew that voice. It was Ryder. Relief slid through her.

There was another knock at the door. “Izzie, are you in there?”

Isabella jumped up, hurried to the door, and swung it open. “Ryder, I can’t believe you’re here.” Much to her shock, the last word came out on a sob, and she collapsed into him. “Thank God you are.”

Ryder rubbed the back of her head. “Do you want me to kick his ass now or wait until later?” he murmured, which made her tears multiply.

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