Page 111 of Prelude To You

29

ROMAN

Iworked through the night. There was no chance of sleeping, even as exhausted as I was.

By 8.10 AM I had all the information I needed to set my plan in motion. By 8.15, Jean-Rene, the manager of Le Petit Chateau, was dismissed and blacklisted. I would have liked to settle the score personally and face the bastard who was unwittingly responsible for Isabel crossing my path.

I wanted to punch him in the face before thanking him for shoving this unblemished creature of pure love and grace into my life. But none of that would make any difference now. By 8.30, Isabel was emailed a formal apology by the owner of Le Petit Chateau, and offered her old job as pastry chef at double her previous salary.

I’d be informed as to whether and when she accepted. The only battle ahead would be fighting the temptation to actually go to the chef’s table and watch Isabel make my dessert.

I dismissed that thought immediately, realizing I was at the stage where delirium crept into the equation. In the last three days, the only peaceful sleep I’d had was the one hour withIsabel in my arms. Before waking up and being snatched back into real life.

It was time to accept that my desperate attempt to make myself less of a villain in her eyes must be limited. Nothing short of explaining to her, face-to-face, that Steven’s actions were not initiated by me would do. And that was not an option. I had to make peace with the fact that hating me would be easier on her in the long run.

My solution was to narrow my focus to work, which had never been a problem before and shouldn’t be one now. A shower and a few hours of sleep were reliable triggers for a fresh start.

But showering became the one thing I wanted to delay as long as possible, because that was the last and final act of eliminating Isabel from me. Clouds of her scent still curled around me, a patina of her essence a part of my skin. Those tiny drops of sweat sprouting in the small of her back that eventually dried on me.

I went to the bathroom to throw cold water on my face. The mirror over the sink confronted a man in dire need of food, sleep, a shower…and the woman who’d awakened things inside of him that didn’t need to be awakened. There was no denying this feeling floating around inside me, crawling into empty places, forever captured with no way out.

And then I found my resolve. I opened the shower jets, and as I stepped underneath the water I knew it would wash away the remaining traces of her touch. I lathered up with soap, as if that would soak up this strange feeling of longing, and I could then outrun the grief I felt inside. The last tears I shed were as a very young child. This was the closest I’d come since.

30

ISABEL

There was nothing more exhausting than pretending to be warm and personable when the pain in your chest was from the shards of your own broken heart. But this job was important. I pinched my cheeks when no one was looking and smiled until my face hurt.

Emily introduced me to the four senior staff members gathered in the staffroom. Each of them oversaw junior staff members. My jaw dropped when I realized how many people it took to keep a place like this going. And according to Miss Leyland, it wasn’t nearly as many staff members as the place required when people actually lived there.

Over coffee and my pastries, discussions circled around eliminating dust particles on the mantel in the living room on the third floor in the north wing.

It was all so far removed from my reality. Meg and I kept our place clean, but it was organized chaos at best. It was warm and inviting though, not like this place where I was terrified of knocking something over or sitting on the wrong couch.

I’d focus all my efforts on doing my job, and not think of anything else. Soon I’d be too busy reading to Henry to even think of Roman.

Wondering what Roman was doing right at this very moment didn’t count.

Miss Leyland ran the whole thing like a well-oiled machine, and I liked watching her efficiency. At one point she looked at me. “Not to worry, Isabel, you don’t have to be here for the staff meeting every morning. I just wanted to introduce you to everyone.”

I smiled and sipped my coffee. She didn’t know how welcoming it was to be surrounded by people, which forced me to keep my thoughts and emotions well contained. Who knew how well that would go when I was left alone with a comatose man.

The head of the kitchen was a very prim and proper Mrs. Sheldon, a middle-aged English woman, who I gathered was okay at making standard food like meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You’d think a place like this would have a world-class chef. But it seemed most of the staff had been here for years and there was no urgent desire to change anything.

I was dying to see the kitchen, and getting on friendly terms with Mrs. Sheldon was a priority. She was swooning over the pastries and asked what my secret was in making thechouxdough because her efforts had failed miserably.

“I can show you sometime, Mrs. Sheldon,” I said. “When you have the time, and I have Miss Leyland’s permission to do that.”

“Oh dear, that sounds wonderful,” Mrs. Sheldon yelped. “Absolutely wonderful.”

And so the morning staff meeting drifted on. With all the talk of the south wing, north wing, and east wing, there was still zero discussion as to who else lived here, if anyone.

There was some concern over Henry’s ongoing condition, but Miss Leyland was extremely cautious about any information she revealed, and she didn’t seem eager to be questioned about it either.

At the end of the meeting, Miss Leyland dismissed the staff and turned to me. “Thank you for these pastries, Isabel. It’s really kind of you. So, when you’re ready Nelson can take you to the library, where you can pick out something a little more exciting to read to Henry.”

“That sounds terrific,” I said. “Thank you.”

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