Page 31 of Heart on Ice

ISABELLE

“Issy.” Pierre knocks on the toilet door.

“Go away,” I yell at him. I will not let him see me like this. He doesn’t get to swoop in now after all these years like a white knight.

“Issy,” he says, knocking on the door again.

“Leave me alone, please,” I plead with him.

“No.”

Fuck this man. I open the toilet door and shoot daggers at him. But the devastated look on his face halts me.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea I made you feel that way about yourself,” he says, rubbing his neck.

“Don’t worry about it, it is what it is,” I tell him.

“Fuck, Issy. I damn well will worry about it. You were my best friend. My first love. And I hurt you beyond anyway I knew I could have. All because I was an egotistical jerk who put their needs and ego above the one person they vowed to love and protect.”

“We were kids.”

He shakes his head angrily. “No excuse. I made you believe you were the problem. I changed you, Issy. Me. Fuck,” he says,punching the wall. What the hell is he thinking? “You didn’t deserve that. No wonder you haven’t spoken to me in all these years. Shit.” Pierre looks distraught, maybe I was too honest with him. “Then I go and fucking kiss you at your father’s funeral. I yelled at you because I was hurt, because I missed the hell out of you. And again, there I was being an egotistical jerk and taking what I wanted, and that was you.” I’m shocked by his confession. “Seeing you there in your childhood bedroom again, looking so fucking beautiful, made me realize how much I fucking missed you. Everything in that moment of my life felt out of control. Things with Kitty were not good. I had been having second thoughts about the wedding for a long time, way before the funeral, and then seeing you again, all the feelings I thought had vanished, hadn’t. You still have a piece of my heart, Issy, and I don’t think that will ever go away.” I swallow hard at his confession. “I know there’s no hope for us romantically, especially not after what you told me. But I really hope there’s a chance that maybe you and I could be friends because I miss the hell out of you and your family.”

I stare at him in shock. I try to process everything he is saying to me. “I don’t know if I can,” I tell him honestly.

Silence falls between us. “I understand.” His shoulders sag and his face falls. “I truly am sorry for everything, Issy. Let’s get through this week, and then you don’t have to ever see me again.” He turns away and starts to walk back to his seat.

“That’s not fair, you asshole.” Pierre stills and turns back to me. “You can’t say sorry and think that makes everything okay. I hated myself for years. Hated myself because you made me believe I was less than. How can I forgive you when I can never forget how you made me feel?”

Pierre looks at me, and that’s when I see a tear fall down his cheek. “Issy.”

“No,” I point at him, “you don’t get to care now.”

“I never knew,” he tells me.

“You never knew that I loved you with all my heart,” I yell at him.

Pierre runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Issy, because sorry isn’t enough it seems. What do you need from me to make it right?”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Why not?” he questions me. I ignore his question and go to step around him, but his hulking mass steps in front of me and stops me. “Why won’t you let me make this right with you?”

“Move,” I hiss at him.

“No.” My mouth falls open in shock at his audacity. Anger bubbles to the surface, and the next thing I know, I am barreling into him, but this time he’s ready for me and grabs me and pushes me up against the wall. “What the hell, Issy. Would you stop trying to fight me.”

“Let go of me,” I growl at him as my hands pummel his hard chest. The next thing I know, he has my wrists cuffed with his hands and stretches them above my head, pressing himself against me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I curse at him.

“You could have hurt yourself. Look at me and look at you.” I may be small, but I can handle my own.

“The only person hurting me is you.” The barbed sting lands. Pierre sucks in a deep breath before letting it out. “Let go of me before I knee you in the balls,” I warn. He spreads my legs wide with his own so I can’t destroy his crown jewels as he presses himself against me harder.

“I get it, Issy. You hate me. But I think what you need to do is let me have it. Say everything you need to say to me, get it off your chest, yell, scream, fight me, but get it out. I hate that my stupidity is still festering inside you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I throw back at him.

“And yet you are just as angry with me as you were all those years ago. I’d say that’s some festering,” he says, staring down at me. I swallow because he’s right. We broke up a lifetime ago, but it still cuts deep. “Let it out.”

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