Page 75 of Until You (Forgive Me)

“I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I haven’t been sleeping since I heard your interview. I need to talk to you. Please... half an hour?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Isabella weighed up her options. She would be heading back to Thailand soon. She could walk away, ignore her. Leave her with her guilt. But then, this past was unresolved. Maybe speaking to Danielle was one more box she could tick off and put behind her.

“Okay, but I’ll come to you. I don’t want any restaurants where the press can take photos. If that is what you’re hoping for...”

“No, it’s not. I promise. I just want to talk. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow at one.”

Isabella jotted down Danielle’s address, surprised she wasn’t living in the penthouse she’d shared with her father. Looking at the address, it was only a short distance from Christian’s. Both she and Danielle had been living in the family home when she had left. Danielle had clearly moved out later.

∞∞∞

When Isabella arrived at Danielle’s apartment, the doorman showed her up. The apartment building was modern. Lots of glass and marble, a large chandelier hanging from the triple-height ceiling of the foyer.

Danielle’s apartment was not what Isabella had expected. Like Christian’s apartment, the main living area was mainly open plan, with stairs once again leading to a second floor. Unlike Christian’s home, Danielle’s was filled with knick-knacks from the house. All the little bits Danielle had collected over the years... and photographs. Not just a few. Hundreds of photographs of them together as a family lined the walls. It was not what Isabella had expected, and as a result, she found herself drawn to them, taking them in. So many wonderful memories.

Danielle came to stand beside her, her finger trailing over a picture of the three of them at a campsite.

“I don’t think your father ever forgave me for that trip,” she said, a smile gracing her lips.

Isabella laughed. “I think you’re right. The millionaire businessman in a tent, sleeping on the floor.”

The camping trip had taken place the summer after Danielle had come into their lives. Isabella had been twelve, her mother having died two years before. Danielle had suggested a bonding trip. Isabella had initially pulled a face when her father had suggested it, but it had turned out to be wonderful. She and Danielle bonded over her father’s disgust at traipsing through the mud to shower in the communal washrooms, especially when the British weather had shown its true colours, and it had rained for much of the week, flooding their tent. The trip had been the first of many, although her father had purchased a top-of-the-range caravan for future years. He admitted he liked the camping experience but wanted to sleep in a comfortable bed. Neither she nor Danielle complained. The camping trips were some of the best memories Isabella had. They had just been happy to spend time together.

They stood in silence, staring at the wall.

“Something smells good,” Isabella said, a delicious smell filling the air from the kitchen.

“I made your favourite,” Danielle said, holding out her hand, ushering Isabella forward.

Out of habit, Isabella worked alongside Danielle in the kitchen. Danielle had laid the table up on the balcony. The sun blazing down with early summer heat.

“You have a beautiful home,” Isabella said as they carried the food to the table.

“Thank you,” Danielle said. “I couldn’t stay in the house. Not without your father... and with you gone. It was just too empty. So I packed up my memories and brought them here.”

Isabella nodded. The house hadn’t been the same once her father died. It was as if something had ripped its heart and soul out, leaving only bricks and mortar.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Danielle put her knife and fork down and looked across at Isabella.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after your father died. I’m sorry I sent you to rehab. I’m sorry for everything.” Her voice broke, Isabella, watched as she forced herself on. “I have no excuse. I loved Dominic, and I loved you. I wasn’t myself after your father died. You shut me out, and I didn’t know how to help you. I know I should have tried harder.”

“Is that why you slept with Pierce?” Isabella asked.

She’d never let on to her stepmother that she’d seen Pierce creeping out of her bedroom one morning. His hair messy, his shirt untucked. He’d smiled at her as he walked past, wishing her agood morning.

Danielle’s eyes shot to hers. Isabella watched in horror as they filled with tears.

“Oh God,” Danielle said, grabbing her napkin and swiping angrily at her face. “I never wanted you to know. It was a one off... I swear. I loved your father. After he died, Pierce was so kind. He was always there to help. He was so understanding having lost Dorothy. You had started to see Edward.” Danielle looked down at her lap. “One night, you were out. I was going through my phone voicemails. Your father had left me one the morning he’d gone for his walk. I was in shock. Next thing I know, Pierce is at the door. He saw I was distressed and came in to comfort me. Then it was morning... I was horrified. I told him he needed to leave and that it would never happen again. We could only be friends.”

Danielle looked up, her hand snaking across the table, grabbing Isabella’s.

“I promise it was only the once.”

Danielle’s distress was clear. Isabella believed her. Both Pierce and Danielle had been grieving the loss of her father. She had fallen into a relationship with Edward for exactly the same reason. They’d always been there. The pair of them, helping, supporting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you over Edward,” Danielle said quietly. “Pierce was so convincing and I had no reason to doubt him.” Isabella watched as Danielle fought with the memory. “Then, when the photographs came out, it seemed like everything they’d told me was true. They said we all needed to protect you. It was our duty, now Dominic was gone. That rehab was probably the best place for you to get the help you so desperately needed.”

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