"Whenever you're ready, Emmalin."
I looked up at Alistair. "Thank you." He sat in the driver’s seat, while I sat in the back. I agreed to meet with Isabella for lunch. I had scheduled and rescheduled thirteen times, and now we were sitting out in front of the restaurant, and I couldn't bring myself to get out of the damn car.
It’d been two weeks since Dale had dropped information on me that would change my life forever, and I was sitting here like a ticking bomb, with a decision to make that was going to change my life forever.
I took a deep breath as anxiety started to set in. I was having more and more of that lately. She was my friend. My best friend, yet I felt like I couldn't face her. It wasn't so much that I couldn't face her, as it was being out in public. How long have we been sitting at this curb? I checked my watch. Only 10 minutes so far. I gripped the handle of the door, preparing to open it, but couldn't bring myself to pull the lever. Shit. I could just send her a text and tell her another time. Before I had time to dole out a full text, the door on the other side opened, and Isabella scooted in. I looked at her, stunned, and she smiled at me, as she gently took ahold of my hand, turning toward Alistair.
"We're ready, Alistair."
"Yes, Ms. Rhodes."
Alistair pulled out into traffic, and I glanced over at Isabella, who had a small grin on her face. "You planned this?"
"Of course I did." She gave my hand a tight squeeze.
Twenty minutes later, we reached a restaurant I wasn't familiar with, and panic started to settle in. You can do this. You can do this. My door opened, and I jumped. I quickly calmed, however, realizing it was only Alistair. He gave me a smile as he held his hand out. I tentatively took it. "You're safe," he whispered to me. I'm not safe. I'm not safe. I'm never safe. I'll never be safe.
I gave him a smile. "Thank you." The door slammed and I jumped, immediately wrapping my arms around myself, and closing my eyes. All I could hear was the sound from the same door Carson kept me locked up in. The horrible screeching sound.
"Emmalin?"
I opened my eyes and Isabella stood there, with a worried expression on her face. "I'm fine." I gave her a smile. "Is this where we're eating?"
She stared at me a moment before turning to the building behind her. "We don't have to. We can always do this another time." She started back for the car.
"It's fine. I'm good." I gave her a smile that I'm almost positive she could see right through, and she looked at me hesitantly. I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, trying to offer her the reassurance I didn't even have.
I sat facing the room. It was nice and calming. We were in a private area away from everyone, but I still needed to see the staff entering and leaving. It's funny, before I didn't mind. Now, I felt like I always needed to be aware.
"So, I have a date tomorrow, but I'm not sure if I want to go." I glanced back over at Isabella.
"Why not?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Really? I thought I would get the third degree from you," she laughed haughtily. I looked down at my barely touched food that I just moved around on my plate.
"Why?"
Her mouth dropped open. "Because of the whole Chace thing. You're always saying we're pining for each other. I'm surprised you haven't texted him now to tell him about my date." She laughed as she reached for her wine glass.
I gave her a small smile. "If he's not the one, then he's not the one," I said quietly. Out of nowhere a small tear escaped my eye, and I quickly brushed it away. Isabella moved to the side of me.
"Sweetie. Talk to me."
"You should go on your date. What if he's your soulmate? What if the person we think we're with isn't the person we're supposed to be with?"
She furrowed her brow. "Okay, honey, you're scaring me. Did Grayson do something? Did he say something?"
“No. I’m just saying, that’s all.” I smiled at her as I reached for my water. “Anyway, tell me about him. Where’d you meet? What’s he like?”
Her eyes lit up as she started to tell me all about Franco. Lovely Italian Franco, who owns his own art studio. “He wants to paint me nude.”
I smiled, thinking how the moment word got back to Chace about how some Italian guy wanted to paint her nude, he would have his balls cut off and dipped in paint.
After we departed, with promises to see each other more, I went home that night, my decision made. Which meant nothing was going to end well. Tomorrow was going to be the worst day.