“Paul, I don’t see what the problem is? Why are you acting like this?” I asked him, because his mood swings were starting to give me whiplash.
“Are you really that blind?” Paul asked me with a grimace on his face. “Do you really not get it? I came to your graduation so that you had someone who loved you paying you attention on your special day, don’t you get that? I ignored your warning to stay away because I knew how much it meant to you and I wanted you to know that you were loved, but all you did was take offense.”
“I said I was sorry for that,” I said quickly without replying to anything else that he had said.
“That’s just it, though, Isabella. Sorry isn’t enough. I know this is wrong, but I’m in love with you. I always have been. Do you really think that I’d have let you overshadow me for all of these years if I didn’t? Do you really think, after the years of bitchiness you’ve shown, that I’d still try to be by your side if I didn’t love you? How can you not know that? How can you not see it in my eyes every time you look so distastefully into them?”
I stood in shock. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure there was anything I could say. Paul had just declared his love for me, and although I hadn’t expected it and I’d never even thought about it as a possibility before, I realized that I felt the same way—the certainty of it dropped on my chest like a ton of bricks, then blossomed from my heart in the next instant, as though it had just been waiting for me to find it. I knew, though, that I couldn’t admit it. I knew that after the years of cold-shouldering him that I couldn’t suddenly turn around and claim that I cared. I knew even if I did that he wouldn’t believe me.
“I think you should go,” I said quietly, because I knew that my voice would give away the tides of sadness if I didn’t.
“Is that all you have to say?” Paul asked in a cold voice that seemed to cut through my skin and chill my bones.
“That’s all I can say,” I said without looking at him. I could hear the shuffling of his jeans against the sand as he pushed himself up, and then his footsteps as they drifted away from me. I wanted to turn around and watch him leave. I wanted to call him back and tell him that I felt the same way , that I’d never even realized until that moment, but I did—but I knew that I couldn’t. I just stood still, unlike the waves that were unrelenting in their mission to take away my place of safety from me.
*******
Chapter Six
I didn’t leave until the ocean had taken every last grain of sand from me. I stood on the edge of the broken path, looking at the waves that were hiding my little piece of paradise. I knew that I had to go back and talk to Paul. I knew that I couldn’t let him leave for New York without at least making my peace with him first.
He’d looked so hurt when I’d told him to leave. He’d looked destroyed when I didn’t return his feelings from my own heart. I didn’t want to destroy him. I didn’t even want to hurt him, but after years of pushing him out of my life, I couldn’t just turn around and declare my love for him, even if it were true.
I walked slowly back along the broken path and towards the town. The sun had already set beyond the horizon, and I was relying on the stars themselves to lead me back. I got to the outskirts of town and noticed how the stars seemed to fade as street lights took over. The light changed from a milky white to an orange glow that felt wrong and artificial after my trip to the beach.
It took me nearly an hour in total to get back to the house. I guess I let my mood control my speed, because it was normally only a ten-minute walk. The house was dark when I got in and I wondered whether I would find Paul in his usual spot in the kitchen, but when I walked in, I found it empty. I considered making myself a drink and going straight to bed, but I could feel a nagging voice in the back of my mind enforcing the idea that I had to talk to Paul before I did.
I made my way up to his room. I hadn’t been in his room for years, but I couldn’t imagine that it had changed much. He had a typical boy’s room that was messy and smelled like sweat. When I had last been in there, his walls had been covered in gaming posters and half-naked women, and his floor had been covered with dirty clothes.
I got to his door and knocked on it. I couldn’t hear any noise coming through the door, and for a moment I assumed that he was asleep, but then doubt crept in as I realized that Paul snored and that I’d always been able to hear him down the hallway, so I certainly should have been able to hear it from the other side of his door. I knocked again, this time more loudly, because I was sure that he was up and simply ignoring me.
I listened hard at the silence that was falling all around me. I was trying desperately to hear some kind of movement from the other side of the door. A slight shuffle of feet maybe, or something being put down, but there was nothing. I couldn’t hear anything at all and after a few frustrating moments, I pushed open the door to discover that his room was empty.
I stood for a moment and took in the chaos of his room. It hadn’t changed at all. He still had the same posters pinned to the wall, and if I wasn’t mistaken, some of the same dirty laundry was still strewn on the floor, even though years had passed since my last visit. I let my eyes glance around the mess as I tried to find clues as to where he might be, but there was nothing, and I walked back out of his room with heavy disappointment weighing down my mind.
It wasn’t until the next day, though, that my father told me where Paul was. I’d gotten up early so that I could make sure that I didn’t miss Paul before he left, but I’d found that I was already too late. He’d gone the night before. He’d left almost as soon as he’d gotten back from the beach. My father couldn’t understand what had made him leave so quickly. His mom didn’t seem fazed by it at all. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that she had realized that he was gone. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that Paul had left without giving me a chance to tell him about how I really felt.
*******
*******
6 Years Later
********
Chapter Seven
The cold wind was slapping against my face as I walked down the narrow sidewalk towards my apartment. Six years had passed since I'd left home for college, and in those six years, I hadn’t seen Paul once. At first, I returned on the holidays thinking that, perhaps, he might do the same and that we would finally get a chance to talk, but after the first two years, I realized that he had no interest in coming back to the home where I’d never made him feel welcome.
I’d thought about asking my dad for his number, but I felt that Paul had made things crystal clear in his avoidance of me, and I felt as though he deserved to have his wishes respected. I wanted to talk to him, though, every time I saw a feature in a magazine with his face on it. I wanted to tell him how proud I was and how well I thought he was doing. I wanted to tell him that his new look suited him, and that any girl would be lucky to hear a declaration of love from him.
I got to my apartment and I buzzed myself in, before climbing the three floors of stairs that often appeared to me like Everest when I’d had a night out on the town. I got to my floor and walked over to the green door that had paint crumbing away from the damp wood that sat underneath. I unlocked it carefully and pushed it open quickly, so that the long creaking noise that sounded like a person getting murdered wouldn’t be prolonged.
My apartment was nearly as cold as it had been outside. The only difference it seemed to offer was the protection from the wind and, even then, if I stood too close to a window, I could feel it creeping in through the cracks in the window panes. The apartment was affordable, though, and since I’d just left college and I was yet to get the high-paying job that I’d always dreamed about, I had to make do with it.
I shivered as I pulled out the old coffee maker that always seemed to splutter to life whenever I called upon its services and I put it on. It gurgled to life and then slowly started to piss murky-colored water into the jug that sat beneath it. I sighed as I walked over to the dingy cupboard that was half
hanging off of the wall and then pulled out a mug. It was when I was pouring the luke-warm coffee into my mug that my phone rang and made me jump out of my skin.
I pulled it out of my pocket and frowned when I saw my father’s name flashing on the screen. My dad never called me. It was either I called him, or we didn’t speak. I pulled it up to my ear quickly and clicked the “accept” button.
“Dad?” I asked, because I couldn’t quite believe that he’d made first contact.
“Isabella, I’m glad I’ve caught you. I’ve got some terrible news,” my father said in a voice that was distorted with pain and heavy with sadness.
“What’s happened, Dad? What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, because I could tell that something truly bad had happened.
“It’s your stepmother, Isabella. She’s been ill for a while, but I thought she would get better,” he started and I could hear his voice breaking with every word that he said. “She didn’t, though, Isabella. She’s gone. She’s gone and she’s never coming back. I don’t know what I’m going to do. What do I do now? How do I move on, knowing that I’ve lost two of the most important women in my life? Tell me, Isabella, what do I do now?”
I stood in silence. I could hear the almost-silent sobs of my father through the speaker on my phone and I could feel my heart breaking as I desperately wanted to reach out and give him a hug. “Oh, Dad, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think there is anything you can say, sweetheart. I don’t think there is anything anybody can say.”
“Does Paul know yet?” I asked my father as my thoughts turned to him.
“I haven’t been in touch yet. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. He hasn’t seen her in six years. He’s going to be heartbroken.”
“Dad, don’t worry about it. Send me through Paul’s number and I will call him and let him know. I’ll get in touch with the airport, too, and see when the next flight back to town is, and then I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Thank you, sweetheart, that means a lot. I know that you never really got on with your stepmom, but she was a good person and she had a good heart.”
“I know that you saw that in her,” I said carefully, because I didn’t want to badmouth her. “I’ll speak to you soon, Dad, and don’t forget to send me Paul’s number.”
I hung up the phone and waited for the text from my dad. He was quick and before I knew it, I was staring down at the number that I had been wanting for the last six years. I tried to calm my racing heart down as I considered the fact that I would soon be talking to Paul, but it wouldn’t listen.
I’d spent the last six years regretting how we had left things. I’d spent the last six years regretting never taking the chance to tell him how I really felt. It had all been too much at the beach. His declaration of love had been too much for my immature mind to process, but I’d had plenty of time to think things over, and I knew that if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t ever let Paul walk away from me.
I finally managed to crash my finger down onto the screen of my phone and I pulled it up to my ear as it started to ring. I started to get worried that he might not answer when I felt the seconds slipping past me, but just as I was about to give up and hang up, I heard a click that told me that we’d been connected.
“Hello?” Paul asked down the phone. His voice still sounded the same as it had six years ago, but there was a new depth to it that sounded almost sexy. I could tell that the awkward boy I’d grown up with was gone and that his success had cemented his worth into his ego.
“Paul, it’s Isabella,” I said in almost a whisper.
“Isabella?” Paul said, as though he couldn’t understand why I would ever find a reason to call.
“I hope you don’t mind that my dad gave me your number,” I started.
“Well, I would have preferred him to run it past me first, but I guess here we are anyway,” Paul said in a cold voice that carried a sharpness that was tearing against my emotions.
“Well, I’m sorry to bother you, anyway,” I said lightly. “I’m only calling because my father is in such a state and I didn’t think it was fair on him to have to do it.”
“Why, what’s happened?” Paul asked in an almost bored tone.
“It’s your mom. She’s been really ill, and although my dad did everything he could to ensure that she would get better, she didn’t. I’m so sorry, Paul, I know how you must be feeling,” I said, because I did. My mom had passed away when I was three years old, but it was something that still filled me with sadness.
“My mom’s gone?” Paul said, and his voice sounded softer than before.
“I’m so, so sorry, Paul. I’m getting in touch with the airport tonight and flying back as soon as I can. I just wanted you to know without delay, so that you can do the same, I guess.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Paul said in a distant voice that told me he’d become lost in his thoughts.
“I don’t think there is anything you can say. You just have to let the grief wash over you until its run its course. I just want you to know that I’m here, though. I mean, if you want to talk or cry or even just have a person to sit next to in silence, I’m here,” I said as my voice trailed off.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll manage,” Paul said in the same cold voice that he’d used with me before.
“It was just an offer,” I said as I tried to hide the hurt in my voice, but I knew that it could be heard with crystal clarity.
“Well, that was just me declining,” Paul said shortly.
“Right, well I’m going to go because you clearly don’t want to talk to me. I guess I’ll see you back at home when you get there?”
“Okay then, bye,” Paul said and then he hung up without anything further being said.
I looked down at the phone in my hands for a moment. I’d spent the last six years constructing conversations in my head with Paul, but none of them had ever gone like that. I’d always thought that, perhaps, Paul would be happy to hear from me. He’d be happy to hear that I’d finally come around and that I was willing to admit my feelings, but that hadn’t been the case at all. I’d spoken to my worst enemies with more love than he had just spoken to me, and that hurt me more than I ever thought it would.
I couldn’t sit around and feel sorry for myself, though. I knew that my dad needed me. I knew that when my mom passed away, he fell apart and it was only my stepmother that managed to put his broken pieces back together again. I guess I’d never really looked at it like that at the time, but now that she was gone, and I could feel my father shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, I could see it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I called the airline and managed to book a flight for that night. It was due to get me back home by the early hours of the morning and I wasted no time in packing my things and leaving the damp, dark apartment that I had the blessing of calling home. I’d booked a cab to take me to the airport, and even though I’d set off in plenty of time, the traffic made sure that when I arrived, I had to run to my gate so that I didn’t miss final check in.
It wasn’t until I’d fastened my seatbelt on the plane and felt the wheels pulling us forward that I finally had a chance to process everything that had happened that day. My stepmom had passed away, my dad had become a broken man, and Paul, the man who I’d loved for years in silence, still had no interest in seeing the changes I had made to my own life and attitude.
The plane took off into the sky and I rested my head back against the chair. There was a magazine that had been shoved roughly into the pocket of the seat in front of me and I pulled it out and glanced at the cover. I snorted out loud when I realized that it was a picture of Paul smiling next to a bunch of gadgets that the headlines claimed he’d created.
********
Chapter Eight
It was a strange mixture between being far too late and ridiculously early when I arrived back at my old home. It hadn’t changed at all in t
he four years that I hadn’t paid it a visit. The driveway was still lined with yellow roses; the porch still had two orange flowerpots sitting on either side of the door, and even the air seemed to carry the same flowery, sweet scents mixed with chalk from the poorly conditioned soil we had.
I didn’t bother to knock. I just walked straight in. I blinked hard as I walked through the darkness. My father hadn’t left the hallway light on, but I could tell from the crack in the kitchen door that the light was on in there. I followed the thin slithers of light until I reached the door and then I pushed it open expecting to find my father in there, but he wasn’t.
“Oh,” I said when I took in Paul’s tall frame. He was sitting at the table in the seat he’d always picked. He didn’t look like the same Paul that I had known, though. He’d changed out his baggy sweatshirts and jeans for an expensive looking suit and his normally messy light hair was slicked back and looked as though it had been cut by a business professional.
“Your dad’s already gone to bed,” Paul said without looking at me.
“Right,” I said as I nodded my head and then blushed because I realized that he couldn’t see me nodding my head. “Do you want me to leave you in peace?” I asked him because, really, I wanted a hot drink and to sit down a while before I headed up to my room for the night.
“Since when has what I want ever mattered?” Paul asked, and he lifted his eyes from the bright screen that was sitting on the table and turned his head my way.
“Since now, I guess,” I said with a shrug.
“Do what you want, Isabella. I really couldn’t care less,” Paul said as he returned his focus back to the screen in front of him.
I turned on the coffee maker and waited for the gurgling noise to start before I realized that that was a unique feature to my coffee maker only. “Do you want one?” I asked Paul as I grabbed a mug out of the cupboard.
Please Me Again: A Taboo Second Chance Romance (Sexy As Hell Book 3) Page 4
