Page 67 of Can You Take It?

“As much as this idea is exciting,” he says with a smirk, “I really want us to have that dinner.”

I nod, a flush of excitement warming my cheeks. He steps away from me, offering his hand. Without a second thought, I reach out and place my hand in his.

Chapter 19

RICHARD

I can’t stop staring at Izel. She’s all dolled up, looking like a sight to drool over in that dress. I curse myself silently for setting up this fancy restaurant date. I could’ve just stayed home with her, making it a night to remember. It’s like the devil’s playing with my conscience.

The restaurant is all fancy and shit, but there’s a part of me that wishes we were somewhere more...private. I want her all to myself, no distractions, no fancy plates, just her and me. I curse myself again for not making that happen.

We sit down at our table, and she orders something that sounds delicious, but honestly, I couldn’t care less about the menu. I’m just content watching her. Izel catches my gaze and smirks, and damn, it’s like she can read my mind.

I know I can’t just jump across the table and take her right there, no matter how much I want to. So, I do the next best thing—I start a conversation.

“So, tell me about your childhood,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my sudden interest. “My childhood? That’s a broad topic.”

I chuckle. “Alright, how about this—tell me about your best friend growing up. Who was she?”

“Sally,” Izel replies, a fond smile playing on her lips. “We were inseparable. She was my rock when things got tough.”

“And things got tough?” I probe, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, they did,” she says. “I didn’t have much to look up to. I studied with what limited resources I had. She always pushed me to be better, even when things seemed impossible.”

Limited resources? That raises a red flag. Izel went to a top-notch high school, the kind of place where ‘limited resources’ usually meant the Wi-Fi was slow. But I decide to let it slide. I can’t turn every conversation into an interrogation.

If I want any shot at something real with her, I have to back off from being so invasive. So far, there’s no concrete evidence linking her to the Striker’s case. From now on, I need to bury my instincts and focus on getting to know the real Izel Montclair. Because, truth be told, she’s starting to grow on me in ways I never anticipated. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize that I’m not just drawn to her because of the case.

“Sounds like she was a great friend,” I say, steering the conversation to safer waters. “Do you still keep in touch?”

“No,” she says, her tone final. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nod in understanding. Someday, I’d like to know what happened between her and Sally. But something tells me today is not that day.

The waiter arrives with our food, placing the dishes in front of us. Izel’s eyes light up at the sight of her meal, and a soft smile spreads across my face. She always seems happiest with good food in front of her.

“So,” I say, changing the subject as we start to eat. “What’s the one thing you want to do for the rest of your life?”

I glance at the envelope in my jacket pocket, wondering if this is a mistake. I’m expecting her to say something fancy, maybe about traveling to exotic locations or running some high-powered business. But her answer surprises me.

“I want to be under the sun,” she says. “Feel the warmth on my skin, the sand between my toes. I want to be by the water, hear the waves crashing. I want to feel the breeze in my hair, watch the sunset without a care in the world.”

She pauses, taking a bite of her food, and I can see the genuine longing in her eyes.

“I want to wake up to the sound of birds, not alarms,” she continues. “To walk barefoot on the grass, to swim in clear, blue water. I want to feel the rain on my face, the wind at my back. To lie under the stars at night, without city lights drowning them out. To feel alive, connected to the earth, to nature.”

Her words paint a vivid picture, and for a moment, I can see it too. The simplicity, the beauty of it all.

“That sounds...perfect,” I say, and I mean it. It’s not the answer I expected, but it’s more real, more Izel, than anything I could have imagined.

“It does, doesn’t it?” she says, smiling. “Life gets so complicated. Sometimes I just want to strip it all away and get back to the basics.”

We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. It’s hard not to notice how different we are.. I’ve always been driven by ambition, by the need to achieve and succeed. But Izel...she just wants to be free.

“What about you?” she asks, breaking the silence. “What’s the one thing you want to do for the rest of your life?”

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