Page 98 of To Have and To Hold

“Mom’s bodyguard. He won’t bother you.”

Her expression radiated happiness and contentment in a way I’d never seen before. “I’ll be fine. I’m home.”

“I fucking love you.”

Isabella blew me a kiss as I grabbed my things from the vanity, walked out of the bathroom, and entered the closet to dress for the second time today.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Isabella

My investigation of Em’s bathroom discovered more things lacking than present. Some crucial items were MIA:

Blow dryer.

Curling iron.

Makeup of any kind.

Luckily, I had mascara and lip balm in my purse.

I couldn’t make myself wear someone else’s panties. I also didn’t want to wear the ones from yesterday, the ones lost somewhere to the floor. Pushing my own boundaries a little more, I chose to go commando. After I slipped on the bright green sundress and plaited my hair into a braid that fell forward on my shoulder, I tried on the sandals. While I could squeeze my feet into them, they weren’t comfortable. Instead, I found my flats.

As I was about to leave the bedroom, I looked at the bed.

A few minutes later, I made my way down the back stairs to what I hoped was the kitchen, with the balled-up set of sheets in my arms.

“Isabella,” a woman I didn’t recognize said as I reached the first floor. “Qué estás buscando?”

I lowered the wad of black sheets and peered at her over the top. “Hi, you must be Lola.”

Her brow furrowed. “Sí, let me take those.”

Pivoting, I blocked her reach. “Um, it’s okay. I was wondering where the laundry room was located. I can put them in the washer.”

“No. No.” She pulled them from my arms. “You don’t do your own laundry here.”

Warmth tingled my cheeks. “It’s that…you shouldn’t have to…they’re...”

Her stern expression melted into an understanding smile. “I’ve washed many sheets after a wedding night. Don’t be embarrassed.”

I lifted my palms to my cheeks. “I am.”

“No, Mrs. Isabella. You’re now a Ruiz. I’ll take care of everything.” She walked away with the sheets as I tried to make sense of my life. I scanned my new surroundings. This was the first time I’d been in the kitchen, and by the sound of my rumbling stomach, it had been a while since I’d eaten. The room was large and stylish. In the center was a large island with a sink on one side and a counter with multiple stools on the other.

Lola returned from the secret laundry room with a satisfied smile. “What can I get you for breakfast? Coffee?”

“No coffee, but juice would be good.” I laid my hand over my stomach. “I don’t think I ate much dinner last night.” I’d been too nervous about Em’s mission.

“Tell me what I can make you.”

“Toast and fruit would be great.”

As I sat on one of the tall stools at the big island, Lola went to work. She talked the entire time. My guess was that it was a ploy to distract me because she created a feast of more than I’d requested. By the time she was finished, I not only had a bowl of fruit but also a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. I also had glasses of orange juice and water. The water was the first to go. Apparently, I was thirsty too.

My stomach wasn’t upset about the amount of food—on the contrary. I was famished.

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