I wake up to Isabelle on top of me, sleeping sideways across my chest. Her face is turned to the side, arms wrapped around my neck, her breasts at my ribs, and her legs stretched out next to me.

The bedside clock says it’s one in the afternoon.

I’m wide awake now, but she’s sleeping so peacefully that I lie there for a while, not wanting to disturb her. I watch her, in awe of how something so simple can bring me such calm. Like the way her heart beats against my ribcage. Or that when I take a breath, it lifts her body too, as though she’s a part of me. Or seeing some of her hair fall over her shoulder onto mine.

The sound of heels clicking on the granite floors gets my attention. There are only two other female guests staying with us this weekend, but really, that noise can also be coming from one of the event staff or day cleaners. They shouldn’t be here. No one else has a key to this place. I try to remember if I locked the front door or the sliding doors to the pool area. Probably not. The regular staff know not to come in. I assume that the error was mine, and gently slide Isabelle off my chest to her side of the bed so I can check it out.

“Who’s there?” I ask after pulling my bedroom door closed behind me to keep the sounds from waking Isabelle. I neglect to throw a t-shirt on, but at least I’m covered from the waist down with a pair of sweatpants slung low on my hips, even if there’s nothing underneath.

“Good morning, Knox and Isabelle!” says the voice coming from down the hall.

It can’t be any of the staff. These people are professionals. They don’t call their bosses or clients by their first names. Ever. Even when we ask them to do so.

I follow the sound of their voice, and find Tandy sitting in a high back bar stool at the kitchen’s breakfast island. She has a cup of coffee in one hand and her eyes are cast downward as she flips through some type of trade magazine on the counter. There’s also a folded newspaper next to her.

“Hi, Mrs. Harrison,” I say politely. “If you’re looking for Isabelle, she’s still asleep.”

She turns to look at me, noticing that I’m not wearing as much as I probably should, and averts her eyes. Well, serves her right for showing up unannounced. I chose to stay in the pool room for privacy reasons. I don’t apologize for the lack of clothing, and I also won’t excuse myself to throw anything else on.

“Knox dear, I actually came by to talk to you.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised that she’d have any reason at all to want to deal with me about an item. “Me? I’m not sure how I can help you, but I’ll do my best.”

“It’s about Isabelle.”

Wow. Well fuck, I’m nowhere near ready to have a one-on-one with the mother of the woman in my bed. We don’t even know what we are to each other yet.

“What about her?”

“I was curious as to whether you’ve noticed how tired and weak she seems lately. Has she been sleeping okay? Is she eating? She looks so thin. Too thin.”

I shrug my shoulders, even though I do agree with her observations. I won’t get between women, and I refuse to be a part of the he said, she said drama that usually results from it. “All I’m aware of is that she seemed to be fighting off a bug,” I tell her.

“Interesting. I’ll make a note to pick up something at the pharmacy when Joseph and I go into town later.”

“Sounds great. That should help.” I shove my hands into my pocket then realize that the move has pushed the waistband of my sweatpants even lower, revealing some of my pubic hairs. Quickly, I adjust the pants and let my hands drop to my sides. “Is there anything else? If there is, we can probably speak a little later when Isabelle wakes up.”

“In fact, there is something. I’d just like to say that Joseph and I are thrilled that you and our daughter are back in each other’s lives again.”

“Thanks,” I answer to keep it short, but she opens her mouth to continue.

“You were always such great friends. We hoped you’d remain close over the years, and although you lost touch for a while, it’s a relief to see how easily the two of you have hit it off… as friends, of course. Or perhaps there’s more?”

Now I get it. She’s here to see whether our friendship has developed or evolved. Isabelle and I haven’t put any labels on our closeness, so I’m not about to insinuate a thing her mother.

“That’s definitely a conversation you should have with Isabelle,” I say, dismissing the topic as respectfully as I can.

“Well, of course, but I’d love to hear your take on how things are going. Your grandfather was saying that you weren’t too keen on the idea of getting serious right now. Joseph and I would just like you to know that we have Isabelle’s best interest at heart.”

“I do as well.”

“That’s excellent. I’m sure you know how it is, with Joseph being in the public eye. He’s under constant scrutiny by his constituents, and so are his family members, by extension.”

“I’m not sure if I get what you’re trying to say. Are you telling me that Isabelle and I should avoid being seen together?”

“Oh dear, not at all. Although, that’s more of a moot point now.” She picks up the newspaper that she brought in with her, and stretches her arm toward me.

“What’s this?” I ask and take it.

“Page eleven should explain it.”

I unfold the paper and flip the pages. When I make it to page eleven, I see what her visit is really about. Fuck. There’s a picture of Isabelle and me, sitting at a local fast food place. It’s from the night we drove into town. It’s a decent picture. She’s on one side of a red and white checkered table, and I’m on the other side, holding a burger a few inches from my mouth with two hands. It’s the clearly biased headline and subheading that’s a little disconcerting. They read:

---

---

“I didn’t know about this article,” I explain. “I apologize if it’s been harmful to Senator Harrison.”

“Look, that drivel is harmless. They’ve said much worse about Morris over the years. You and Isabelle are good friends. The two of you shouldn’t have to worry about silly political commentary…unless of course there’s more between you, beyond the purview of a platonic friendship.”

This woman has begun to speak in code. It’s the language of politicians—just a stone’s throw from layman’s English, but in its own league, and thoroughly incomprehensible.

“Sorry, I still have no clue what you just said. If you’re asking me to keep my public appearances with Isabelle on the conservative, more platonic side, you have nothing to worry about. We’re friends after all.”

“Oh, I see. I appreciate that,” she tells me, sounding disappointed that I won’t admit to a damn thing. “I’m probably mistaken. I thought Morris said there was a spark between the two of you.”

I shake my head. “No disrespect, Mrs. Harrison, but there’s nothing Pops would love more than to see sparks fly between his grandson and your daughter, or with any other eligible woman or young socialite from our circle of friends. He’s itching to see me walk down the aisle, and had no qualms trying to make me drag your daughter to the Hamptons this weekend in the hopes of some kind of instant love connection. Again, I’ll leave that to Isabelle to have a conversation with you on it.”

“Completely understandable.” Tucking the magazine under her arm, she stands up from the bar stool, walks over to the sink, and dumps the rest of her coffee down the drain. “Keep the paper. Will you let Isabelle know I’d like to speak with her once she’s awake and dressed?”

“She’s asleep now, so I’ll pass on the message later. We’ll see you at the main house, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Excellent. Enjoy your day, Knox,” she says in a formal tone, and leaves the kitchen. Her heel clicks diminish until they fade away. I can only hope that the blowback from that ridiculous article will fade just as fast.

It might, but judging from the look on Isabelle’s face as she storms into the kitchen, what I admitted to her mom may take a while for her to get over.

“Let me see that!” she says and snatches the newspaper from me.

“Good morning, yourself. I take it that you heard everything.” She doesn’t answer, taking the time to find the article about us. She sits in the identical bar stool where her mother sat, and reads the entire article. Then she closes the paper again and thrusts it across the counter away from her. “The content is not worth the paper it’s written on,” she finally says in a huff, and turns to face me.

“Seems that way to me too,” I agree.

“And you! Don’t even think that it’s the only thing I’m upset about.”

“I figured as much. Look, Isabelle. That stuff about Pops… you know all three of them have been sticking their nose into our friendship. We’re getting closer in spite of them, not because of them. There’s a difference.”

“Did you tell your grandfather that you’d spend the weekend with me to get him off your back about marrying someone?” she demands.

“Jesus. You’re going to eat right out of their hands over this, aren’t you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Listen to me. You and I, this friendship, the way we reconnected since that night at the engagement party, it has nothing to do with them!” I bark, and hate how out of control I sound. I’m so fucking close to losing my shit right now.

“Then tell me it’s not true!” she practically screams. “Tell me he didn’t put you up to luring me here this weekend.”

“Just because he made those demands, it doesn’t mean I didn’t already want you here. You’re being unreasonable. You’re confusing what’s real about us with the crap going on up at the main house.”

“So it’s true? Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.” She jumps off the bar stool and stomps up the hall toward the master bedroom.

“We’re here because we want to be here,” I shout after her and follow her to the door.

“No! I don’t want to be here! Not as some pawn to satisfy your grandfather’s wishes.”

“Will you stop and just calm down for a minute? You don’t have all the facts.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She goes over to the walk-in closet and drags her empty suitcase with her, dumping it on the bed.

“What are you doing with that?” I ask and run a frustrated hand through my hair.

She goes back into the closet and brings out a handful of her clothes, still on their hangers. “I’m going home.”

“No. You’re not.” I stand in front of the suitcase, blocking her path.

“Move, Knox. Get out of my way.” She tries to move my body, but it’s impossible with our size difference.

“Why? For you to run again? Like you did at the engagement party? Or back in the limo?”

“Like you can talk,” she shouts at the top of her lungs. “You left me for ten whole years! I didn’t have a fucking clue what I did to you! And you didn’t give a crap whether I was alive or dead, happy or in the worst fucking pain of my life! You still don’t give a shit about me. I’m just here so your grandfather will get off your back and stop putting pressure on you to settle down.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well you know what? It doesn’t matter. I know what I need to know. I’m not staying here a second more.”

“All right, fine!” I’m at the end of my fucking rope. I can’t keep a leash on my rage for much longer. I’m fucking done. Stepping to the side, I walk out of the room and return to the guest room where my things are. We’re supposed to stay here another night, and I won’t leave Pops here alone. I grab my car keys and head up to the main house.

“Pops,” I call from the main floor foyer.

“In here.” I follow his voice to his smoking room and find him sitting in his easy chair with a pipe hanging out of his mouth. Senator Harrison is in the dark red leather sofa, about to cut the tip of a cigar.

“Hey there,” I say, trying to keep a lid on my anger. “Pops, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“All right, son. You and Isabelle going into town? Keep your eye out for those pesky paparazzi people. Damn snoops,” he grumbles.

“Actually, I’m taking her back to the city. She wants to go home.”

Her father leans forward in his chair, interested now. “What? Is she all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

He rests the cigar on the coffee table in front of him. “She probably saw that article. I know first-hand how much she hates when the media makes a spectacle of her. She’s just like her sister, but Bethany is a lot worse.” He chuckles. “Her sister moved two thousand miles away to get away from all this public scrutiny. Can’t say that I can blame her.” He gets to his feet. “I’ll talk to Isabelle.”

“All right,” I answer, and motion for him to go ahead of me. I follow him to the pool house, but we quickly see that there’s no sign of Isabelle. “She was just here. I don’t think she’d take my car.”

“Let’s check the front,” Senator Harrison suggests. “We drove here in Tandy’s SUV.”

We hurry to the front of the main house. My car is still there. Tandy’s SUV is also parked in the same spot. But we turn to the driveway entrance in time to see a catering van leaving through the wrought iron gates. Both windows are rolled down, and in the passenger seat, I see Isabelle.

“She can’t leave like this,” I say, not hiding my anger. “I can stop them with my car.”

“No.” The senator puts a firm arm on my shoulder. “Let her go. She’ll calm down eventually.

“We don’t even know who that driver is,” I object, but it sounds weak and idiotic.

“Nothing will happen to her. More likely than not, they’ll drive her to the Hamptons Jitney bus. Trust me, son. She’ll be fine. She just needs a minute to get over… everything.”

I don’t agree, but if this is what she wants, I’ll give her whatever space she needs.

“Okay,” I concede. “I need to get my phone from the car. I must’ve left it in there last night. Just in case she phones.” Turning, I head to my car and click the remote to open the driver side door. As I lean down to grab my phone in one of the drink holders, I notice something and smile a little.

Isabelle just high-tailed it out of here—without the keys to her apartment.

The Senator heads inside, and I take my phone with me back to the pool house to connect it to the charger.

She’ll see me.

A lot sooner than she thinks.