Page 37 of Isla

“That was so hot,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

“Just wait,” he chuckles, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I prop myself up on my elbows, admiring his ass as he walks to the bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth.

"Sorry," he murmurs, gently wiping my stomach.

"Why are you sorry?"

"The mess."

"What if I told you I would rub it in like lotion if it were socially acceptable?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Then I would say that's hot as fuck." He tosses the washcloth into the bathroom sink and then hops in bed with me, shivering as he wraps his arms around me. "I'm glad that was my last first kiss because nothing will ever top that." He tucks his face into my shoulder, his breath tickling the nape of my neck.

Tears prick my eyes, the corners of my mouth pulling up into a tentative smile. Maybe–just maybe–this will actually work. Could this be it? My forever? I fall asleep to dreams of extra large beds, tangled limbs, and lazy mornings filled with coffee and laughter.

16

It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen the guys. Jack is making one final push before the baby is born and needs all hands on deck, which means I'm alone in the pub every night after spending my mornings planning Charlie's baby shower. Despite staying busy, I find myself constantly thinking of them.

When I arrive at the pub Saturday afternoon, a man who looks to be in his late forties introduces himself as Patrick and tells me he's taking over for me, and I have until opening to show him the ropes. My stomach roils and it feels like I’m going to be sick. I send a frantic group text to the guys, but they only assure me that he’s competent and that the pub will be in good hands. I gape at the words on the screen. This isn’t part of the deal. I’m trainingthemto take over, not some random guy who will mess everything up. Why the fuck did they think this would be okay?

"You don't need to worry," Patrick says, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. "I promise I'll take good care of her."

"Where–How–When–" I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. Why hadn't they asked me first? Because I don't fucking own the pub anymore, that's why.

"To answer your questions, I was a bartender at the Balmoralbefore I moved to Harris for some peace and quiet. I quickly found there's such a thing as too much downtime, so I put an ad online. Theo saw it and got in touch last week."

"The Balmoral?" I gape at him. "And now you want to workhere?" That’s the downgrade of the century. I look at him more closely. "Why do you look familiar?"

"I've been coming in every week for months, Isla. I have big shoes to fill.”

I snort. "I guess I should be thankful I can finally move on. I just didn't think it would happen so fast."

The tears start the second I get in my car. I drive past the Manor House, parking by the barn, and enter the castle through the old servants' door. The stairs to the top of the west turret are brutal, but I welcome the pain in my lungs because it helps block out everything else. I throw my shoulder against the ancient wood door and squeeze through the opening. The battlement is rough against my shoulder as I sag against it, tears freely falling down my face, the wind ripping at my hair.

I feel so utterly lost. Like a plastic bag being whipped around in a storm–no direction, nowhere to go. I brace my hands on the blocks of stone, leaning into the space between them, screaming until my throat is raw. Screaming for the loss of a dream I held so close for so long. For the future I planned out so meticulously. For not having a plan for the first time in my life. My screams turn into sobs, and I fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands.

"Fuck, Isla." Theo's voice registers a second before his arms wrap around me, hauling me away from the ledge. He presses his lips to my hair as I sob into his shirt, smoothing his hand down my back. "Are you hurt?" he asks, a quiet urgency in his voice.

I can't do anything more than shake my head no, shuddering breaths wracking my body.

"I don't think I'm strong enough for this," I finally say, hiccupping.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll lend you my strength as long as you need it."

I wipe my cheeks on his shirt, sniffling. "How do I walk away from what made me who I am? How do I start over?"

He swallows, his bottom lip trembling. "I'm so fucking sorry, Isla." He pulls me out of his lap and sets me on the ground, kissing my cheek. He turns in the doorway, "At least come inside so you don't tumble over." I blink up at him, confused. Emotion roils in his eyes like storm clouds, and then he’s gone. I follow his advice and go inside, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. I know I’m a lot sometimes, but out of everyone I’ve been with, he’s the one I thought could handle it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was all a gigantic fucking mistake. I wipe my cheeks and take several deep, shuddering breaths before heading back downstairs.

I find Charlie out on the terrace and distract myself by interrogating her on everything to do with babies so I can plan the shower she deserves. I desperately want to confide in her but don't want to cause stress, so I keep it in and paste a bright smile on my face. When Theo hasn't texted me after several hours, I turn my phone off and head back to the cottage, a mix of fury and sadness churning in my gut. What I need is a glass of wine, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.

I wake to sunlight streaming into my bedroom, thousands of gold specks floating around me like pixie dust. I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. As I reach for my phone, my fingers brush against a piece of paper. I jerk my hand back. That wasn't there last night. Heart pounding, I sit up and pick it up with my fingertips.Warranty Deedis written in bold letters across the top. My heart drops.

Oh no. No, no, no.

I skim the paper to the very end, where all three of them have signed it. I turn it over, looking for some sort of explanation, and find a Post-It note.

I'm so sorry,Isla. I'm going to do the right thing for once. I can't wait to come back someday and see your dreams come true. I'll never forget you. -T.

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