Page 58 of With All My Heart, Joy

“Feeling happy now?”

The words softly dusted across her cheek made her body go cold. A dizzying sensation rocked through her, jolting her to reality, rudely wrenching her from the sanctity of this warm embrace.

She was kissing Isaac Miller.

Isaac Miller, Ph.D. Counseling Psychology.

Isaac Miller, the counselor.

What was shedoing?

She stepped back abruptly, roughly forcing the arms that were locked behind her back to fall away. “I can’t do this.” Her tone was harsher than she intended.

Isaac closed his eyes, wavering on his feet. “Is it the age?”

She had finally come to terms with his age. But under the spell of his admiration and the bodily tingles his touch produced, she’d forgotten he was a counselor. A fixer. And she wasn’t interested in being a lifetime client. A liability. Just like she was to her family. “No. Believe me, it’s not.”

His eyes opened, and she was pierced through by the raw wound etched onto his face. “I see.” His voice was hard, and Joy couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, she whirled around, her eyes too blurry with fresh tears to see another man standing to the side of the Christmas tree. She knocked into him, muttered an apology, and ran for the ladies’ room.

* * * * *

If it wasn’t his age, then it had to be Paisley.

He hadn’t expected that. Not from Joy. Would any woman ever want him and Paisley both?

An ache radiated from the center of Isaac’s chest as he stood, still facing the hotel window. The garish multi-colored lights of the tree reflected on the window, dancing in his face as if laughing at his rejection.

He took a shaky breath and turned on unsteady legs, only to find himself face to face with a man. It was Victor. And he didn’t look happy.

“Hi.” Isaac reached out his hand. “You must be Victor.”

The man didn’t move a muscle. “And you are?” His voice was cold.

“Isaac Miller.”

“How old are you, Isaac?”

He swallowed but didn’t break eye contact. “Thirty-eight.”

Brown eyebrows drifted upward. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to be kissing my baby sister?”

Isaac was so over this age debate. He lifted a hand to run through his hair before remembering he was at a wedding reception. He was the best man, and he needed to stay presentable. “I think that’s up to Joy to decide, don’t you? If you had been watching longer, you’d know she kissed me first.”

Victor’s nose scrunched—just like Joy’s.Oh, Joy.Why had she kissed him if she didn’t want a relationship with him?

“I’ll admit, I followed you out here. I saw the whole thing.”

Isaac eyed him warily. “That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

His return gaze was cool. “I may not have been in touch much lately, but I’m not out of touch with reality,Isaac. I know you’re Joy’s counselor. And now I find you kissing her. Isn’tthata little creepy?”

Isaac didn’t need to explain himself to Joy’s brother. Because, apparently, Joy wasn’t as interested in him as he’d thought. “For the record, I’m not her counselor anymore. Got any more questions, ask Joy. I guess she and I are done, so…” He gave a shrug that probably looked pathetic, his throat too constricted to say more, and pushed past Victor, their shoulders knocking painfully.

He stepped back into the ballroom, his eyes sweeping the room. Joy was at the bridal party table alone, her face pale, eyes downcast. Isaac wouldn’t return there until the bride and groom did. Instead, he pulled out a chair beside Paisley.

“How’s my daisy?”

She turned a happy face to him. “Good. The foodsooooyummy.” She rubbed her tummy. “Can we stay here forever?”

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