Page 13 of Velvet Varnish

Don’t worry about coming to the appointment next month. I know you hate it. It was selfish of me to hold you to it. I’m sorry.

I’ll see you around,

Isla

The note drifts to the bed and I run my hand through my hair, tugging sharply to distract from the tightness in my throat.

She left.

And she told me not to come to our long-standing appointment. I don’t hate the appointment and never have. It’s the only chance I have to see her alone. Away from the bar. How can she think I hate it?

I cherish it.

I clear my throat and grasp the book I gave her. The spine is smooth and unbroken and there’s no bookmark in it. So shedidn’t open the book. Hadn’t read it last night. Hadn’t seen the note I wrote on the dedication page.

Or she had and doesn’t feel the same way and ignored it. I open to the dedication page and brush a finger across the pen I wrote on it when I bought it for her. Got it a while ago when she mentioned it was one of her favourites. I hope she hasn’t seen the note. If she did see the note and still decided to leave, I don’t think I could take it. Don’t think I could see her without breaking down andbeggingher to reconsider.

I jump when someone knocks at the door. My heart pounds and I can’t hear over the rush of blood in my ears. Did she come back?

Gathering the book and her note in my hand, I stumble through the lounge to the door. If it is her, I need to be prepared.

I yank the door open, and my shoulders fall in disappointment.

“Hello, to you too,” Chloe says. Lachlan’s standing behind her holding paper bags from Deja Brew. Looks like we had the same idea, but mine’s still sitting on the kitchen bench, uneaten, with an iced coffee in the fridge Isla will never drink.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on Isla. You left before I could check on her and then neither of you responded to our texts. Which would have been welcome, by the way. How’s her hand? Did she need to go to the hospital?”

I open the door wider so they can come in. “She was a bit shaken, but there wasn’t any glass in her hand and it didn’t need stitches.”

“Is she still asleep?” Chloe sips her coffee and sits on a barstool.

I avoid her gaze. “She left.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to get food.” I nod at the full bags. “When I came back, she was gone. Left a note.” I tuck the book under my arm and fiddle with her note.

“What happened last night? Did you do something?” Chloe frowns and Lachlan brushes a hand down her back.

“No.”

She narrows her eyes. “She wouldn’t have left unless something happened. What did you say to her?”

“I kissed her,” it bursts out of me. Chloe grins, but her face drops as I continue. “But then I remembered she was hurt, so I stopped because I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable after what happened at the bar.”

Chloe pauses, her coffee cup hovering by her mouth before she sets it on the bench. “How did you word it to her?”

“I told her we’d talk in the morning. Something about it not being a good idea.” I put the note and book down so I can rub my eyes. “I’ve only just realised how that sounds. I didn’t want to push her, didn’t want her to regret it.”

Chloe takes the note from the bench, skims it quickly and scoffs. “You don’t believe this, do you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I cross my arms. “I’m not going to push her when she doesn’t want the same thing I do.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way?”

I sigh heavily. Can’t believe I’m going to bare my soul to them before Isla. “Before she went to sleep, I put her favourite book on the bedside table. I wrote a note in it. I think she saw it, realised she doesn’t feel the same way and left. Her note was on top of the book.”

---