Page 31 of Eight Days of Christmas
“Are you sure?” Mom asked.
“Absolutely. Now go.” Isabella shooed Mom out of the kitchen, along with the rest of the family. When she turned around, Leo stood behind her. She inhaled a breath, placing her hand to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Leo shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s amazing.” She busied herself with picking up the dirty dishes from the table and carrying them into the kitchen. “Norah told me you’d given it up.”
Leo went to the sink, filling it with hot water. “I did…at first. But then I figured my mom would’ve wanted me to pursue my dream.”
“I’m sure she’d be so proud of you.” She placed the dishes into the sink. There were years of words Isabella wanted to say to this man. But would they be enough? Could the right words be enough to erase the hurt and the betrayal?
“Yeah, maybe.”
With him next to her, so close, her breathing quickened, and her chest fluttered. “For the record, I’m proud of you, too.”
Leo responded with a grunt.
Isabella bumped her hip into his side. “I mean, if I hadn’t constantly pestered you to keep at photography through college, your future could look very different right now.”
The implications of her words hit in her chest, a shift near her heart. Her gaze traveled up to meet his, finding a look of longing, of need, of pain. She swallowed.
“Yeah, I think I know how different my future could’ve been,” he said, that wall suddenly separating them once again. Except it felt more like a skyscraper now. He dried his hands on a dishtowel. “I’m tired, I’m gonna get going. Goodnight.” He tossed the towel onto the counter and left the room, leaving her heart aching.
It took readingthree picture books to Ava before she fell asleep, and Isabella could finally retreat to her bedroom for the night. She pushed aside the wedding decorations, rolls of burlap and red and gold ribbon, before dropping onto the bed in an exhausted slump. Staring at the ceiling, Isabella mumbled aloud, “First day of Christmas down. Only seven more to go. You got this, Isabella.” She sighed and pushed her fingers through her disheveled hair.
She stood and picked up the hideous bridesmaid dress, grimacing before hanging it on the treadmill handle. Isabella shuffled to the bed and pulled back the welcoming covers. She couldn’t wait to climb in between the flannel sheets and sleep for a solid twelve hours, at least. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement outside through the window.
She crept to the window seat and knelt, gathering the curtains and peeking through them. Leo’s bedroom was directly across from hers. Through his open blinds, she eyed him while he paced back and forth, until suddenly he stopped, took a purposeful stride toward the window, and pushed it open. Isabella sucked in a breath, released the curtains, and pressed her back against the wall.
Had he just been waiting for her to look out her window?
Isabella exhaled a deep breath before kneeling on the seat, pushing back the curtains, and peeking out once again. This time, she found him leaning out his open window. She gasped, clutching at her chest. Then slid open her own window. “Leo! What are you doing?”
“What areyoudoing?” his voice growled through the crisp night air, sending a thrumming in her stomach.
“You scared me,” she blurted.
“Sorry. I was waiting for you to come to your window.”
Her body tingled at his words. So hehadbeen waiting for her.
“That was presumptuous.”
“Maybe.”
All the memories of her childhood surrounded her, mocking her, and made her feel off-kilter. How many times had she spoken to Leo from this very window? ShoutingI love youthe loudest. Until Mom or Mrs. Hoffman came to tell them to be quiet or they’d wake up all the neighbors.
Mrs. Hoffman.
The thought of her sent an unforgiving pinch to her gut. She sighed. “It’s cold, Leo. And it’s been a very long day. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” Isabella reached for the window, ready to push it shut.
“C’mon, Izzy.”
“C’mon, what?” She leaned on the windowsill.
“I’m still waiting for an explanation.” Those hard lines to his face went serious.
Even though she knew exactly what he was referring to, she still asked. “An explanation for what?”
