Bella shook her head to clear Fiona’s words.
And then she said, “It’s for the best. It was twenty years ago, and you can’t deny that.” His mouth got tight at that and Bella went on, this time quietly, “It will be again. You’ll find happiness, Prentice. It’s just never something you’d find with me.”
Prentices eyes got hard. “Elle, you get in that car and drive away, that’s it. You leave me and the children this time, if you get second thoughts and you come back, I’ll no’ make you work for it. There’ll be nothing to work for.”
To Fiona’s shock, disappointment, anger and sadness, although Bella’s face paled and her throat convulsed, her head nodded.
Prentice felt those same four emotions and he didn’t hide them.
His voice was gruff when he stated, “The last time, even though I didn’t know it, you were taken from me. This time, if you leave, it’s all you.”
Fiona saw Bella’s eyes flash with indecision.
“Prentice,” she whispered.
Don’t get in that car, Bella, Fiona shouted, Don’t do it.
Then, seeing Bella make her decision (the wrong one) and shift toward the door, Fiona tried yelling at Prentice.
Don’t let her go. She needs you to save her. She needs her knight in shining armor, not a man who’d let her go. This is twice, Prentice, and you don’t even know this is all on you. Twenty years, and it’s all YOU. You should have gone to save her the last time and you let her go. This is the same. She isn’t leaving you, she has this idea that she’s saving you. This is NOT her LEAVING. This is YOU LETTING HER GO!
As usual, Prentice didn’t hear a word Fiona said.
And by the time she was done yelling, Bella was in the car and she didn’t even look at Prentice’s angry, tight face as she reversed the rental out of the spot and she didn’t look back as she drove away.
Chapter Ten
Isabella’s Return
Isabella
The next three weeks went by in a fog for Isabella.
Well, not all of it.
She remembered texting Annie and Mikey repeatedly to let them know she was okay and not about to drive her car over a cliff.
And she remembered Fergus showing up at the hotel she’d checked herself into after her mad flight from the wedding reception. She remembered him having a drink with her in the bar, guiding to her room and holding her while she cried and tucking her into bed when she was exhausted from her tears. She also remembered him taking her to breakfast the next morning and to the airport that afternoon.
She also remembered her heretofore unknown fury likely induced by her not sleeping (even a little bit) and her mind playing and replaying the night before and day of Annie and Dougal’s wedding, second by second, in a constant loop, boiling up and rolling over.
This gave her the equally heretofore unknown courage to confront her father days after her return.
She walked right into her childhood home and asked him why on earth he’d shown up and ruined Annie and Dougal’s Scottish Fairytale Come True Wedding and she’d used those exact words. And she asked him why on earth he’d come tearing to Scotland when he’d heard she was there and then treated her like a fifteen year old he’d caught heavy petting with her boyfriend in a car instead of a forty year old divorcee dancing with a man at a wedding.
And she remembered his answer.
“Isabella,” he’d started on that disappointed sigh she knew way too well, “after this last stunt, I’ve given up on you. No matter what I’ve done, how hard I’ve worked; you’ve turned out just like your mother. Therefore, in a way, I’m glad you came because you should know and it’s saved me the trouble of seeking you out. You’re disinherited. My will has already been changed. I’m giving my legacy to the Art Institute of Chicago. We’re in discussions for them to name a wing after me.”
Isabella stood in front of him, stunned at his answer which, incidentally, was not an answer at all but simply a mean, nasty statement.
And she stood in front of him stunned that he showed not one smidgeon of regret or embarrassment for striking her in front of an audience to the point she fell to her knees.
Then she surprised herself by replying coolly, completely in control and without a shred of fear (something Carver Austin taught her well, just not how to do it with him), “Well, when you’re dead, and they’ve named that wing after you, I’ll be sure not to visit. Until that time, you be sure not to contact or come near me again.”
Then she’d turned on her hideously expensive, high-heeled pump which, regardless of her losing her father’s legacy, she still could afford since her mother was loaded too and she willed every penny to Isabella.
She also remembered making the harebrained, insane decision that she might never be going back to that village and she might never see Prentice or Jason or Sally again but that didn’t mean she couldn’t send Sally a box of American candy.
So she did.
She bought every kind of candy and chocolate you could get in America that you couldn’t get in Scotland (and some that you could, just so Sally could make a taste-testing comparison) and she Fed Ex’ed it to Sally.
Then she worried that giving Sally a box of candy would make Jason feel left out, so she Fed Ex’ed him a book on how to teach yourself to play guitar.
Then she walked by a store where in the window she saw a little girl’s magic wand that had all sorts of glittery ribbons trailing from it and a big, puffy, lilac satin star at the tip. She walked in and found the store had all sorts of magic-oriented little girl stuff that Sally would love. So she filled another box and Fed Ex’ed it.
Then, to even things out, she bought Jason a Bears jersey and a Cubs baseball hat and Fed Ex’ed that.
Further, she remembered spending a lot of time remembering every minute she spent with Sally and Jason.
And every minute she spent falling right back in love with Prentice (not that she ever fell out of love with him).
And she remembered a lot about that.
She remembered Prentice winking at his son.
She remembered the warm looks he gave his daughter.
She remembered him offering her the pancake on his very own plate.
She remembered when he told her she was not easy to forget.
She remembered how he guided her to bed, took off her shoes and held her drunken body, giving her a tight squeeze when they shared a moment of happiness for Annie and Dougal.
She remembered him laughing at her but taking care of her when she was hung over.
She remembered his hands on her, his mouth on her and the incredibly beautiful feel of him inside her.
She remembered how sweet it was when he called her “baby”.
She remembered him telling her, “I just want you.”
She remembered that he remembered the words he said to her, twenty years ago, the same words that were seared into her brain.
She remembered how much she loved it when he called her “Elle” because the Elle he knew was who she had always wanted to be.
She remembered swaying in his arms to a sad song and letting herself believe, if only for three minutes, that she might get her fairytale too.
And, lastly, she remembered the look on his face in her rearview mirror when she drove away.