Page 1 of Heart on Ice

1

PIERRE

Kitty is driving me crazy with her fucking texts about the god damn wedding. I’m at a fucking wake. I don’t give a shit what color the linen napkins are or that the color roses she ordered don’t match her bridesmaid’s dresses perfectly. I head upstairs to deal with her insane number of texts alone. I thought she was busy at a photoshoot, I mean, it was one of the reasons she couldn’t be here today. I let out a sigh as I step into my childhood bedroom, instantly consumed by the memories, mostly good, some bad.

Issy and I shared a bathroom which was sandwiched between our rooms. I remember the first time we ever met. I’d flown in from Quebec after saying goodbye to my family. I was scared, excited, and apprehensive about my new life in New York. I jumped in the shower to wash off the plane stank and get ready to meet Mr. Alessi’s daughters for dinner. I thought I was alone until the bathroom door burst open and in walked the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, long dark brown hair that was dead straight, the darkest chestnut-colored eyes, and the prettiest pink lips.

“Who the hell are you?”she shrieks as she stares at my naked form before her.

I’ve started to fill out and I know that I’m nothing but muscle right now, so I hope she is appreciating the view. I grab the towel from the rail and throw it in front of my now semi hard dick as I turn the water off and step out, securing the towel around my hips.

“Hey, you must be my new roomie, Isabelle. I’m Pierre,” I say, introducing myself to her, trying to forget the awkwardness of her seeing me naked.

“Roomie?” she asks with fire in her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m in the room next door, your father said it would be cool,” I tell her.

“Dad,” she screams as she runs out of the bathroom.

The memory makesme laugh as I continue walking through my old room. Not much has changed since I lived here, which is a trip. I head back through the bathroom and into Issy’s room, what a blast from the past as I stare at all her things still left there as if she were still sixteen. Suddenly, her bedroom door bursts open and a distressed Issy barrels into the room, those chocolate eyes filled with tears, unaware she’s not alone. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her today, watching her stand there stoically for her sisters, hugging them tightly as they struggled throughout the day.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” she yells, noticing me standing there.

It’s been what feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen her. She was living in London for nearly a decade after we broke up, but she came home when her dad had his first heart attack a couple of years ago. We ran into each other in the hospital, and after that time, she made sure it never happened again. I’ve run into her on the odd occasion since we broke up, but not as frequently as I thought, nor hoped I would.

“I needed a moment. Looks like you did, too?”

Those chocolate eyes narrow on me, and the tears that were ready to fall seem to vanish as her anger takes over. “Yes, in my room.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in your room,” I say, cracking a joke, trying to make things less awkward.

“You’re not welcome here.”

I thought after all this time and after today that maybe … guess I was wrong. “Issy …” I say.

“No,” she answers as I notice the tears starting to fall across her cheeks. I go to take a step forward to comfort her, but she stops me. “No.”

“I just want to help,” I tell her. Seeing her so broken is my undoing.

“I don’t want your help,” she says stubbornly as she wipes her cheeks angrily.

We glare at each other.

Fuck it.

She needs me. “Well, you’re going to get it anyway. You’ve always been so stubborn. I’ve watched you be strong all day for your sisters. You held them, comforted them, but no one comforted you.” I take a couple more steps toward her.

Issy steps back, fire burning in those eyes. “Just because I’m alone here today doesn’t mean I’m alone.”

Oh. “Are you seeing someone?” What the hell am I doing asking her that?

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps back.

“Why isn’t he here then?” I push her on the subject because I want to know what kind of asshole doesn’t accompany his girl to her father’s funeral.

“I could ask the same thing about your fiancée.”

Touché there. “She had to work.” Honestly, I didn’t want her here because she would say something that would irritate the hell out of me, or she would try to get me to leave early. I mean, she’s spent the entire day asking me stupid wedding questions when she knows where I am, but that’s Kitty, self-absorbed as they come.

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