Chapter Eight
Isaac sits in the driver’s seat with the door open, me leaning on the frame to talk to him. It’s way past my dinner break, but I figure a goodbye is definitely in order. Hell, if I could, I would crawl into his fancy apartment bed with him and sleep for weeks after that.
“I have to admit that I’ve never had sex in a car before,” I tell him. He nods and tells me he hasn’t either.
“It was fun,” he allows like it was just okay. And then we both smile, and I blush a little. Because I remember all of my filthy thoughts. I also remember the other thoughts… the ones where I wanted more. Where I wanted love. Thank God I never said it out loud.
“Come here,” Isaac whispers, nodding his head. And I like how it says it, like he knows I will.
I step between his knees, and he wraps his strong arms around me, locking his hands behind my low back, kissing me long and slow. When he’s done, he leans his forehead against mine.
“Come to the wedding with me,” he murmurs. “Come everywhere with me.”
“You’re cute,” I say back with a quick kiss. But when I straighten out of his arms, I see how entirely serious he is about this wedding thing. I tilt my head apologetically.
“Isaac,” I say. “I don’t even own anything to wear to a wedding.”
“I can buy you a dress.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need you to buy me anything.”
“Okay,” he says, undeterred. “You can borrow one. I’m sure one of those soon-to-be sisters-in-law have a dress for you.”
He does have a point there, but I’m too nervous. I don’t take rejection well. I’ve walled myself off from it, from relationships. I don’t want to get hurt again. And not from his family either.
“Please, Phee,” he says. “I will literally do anything if you agree to come to the wedding with me. I don’t want to go with anyone else. I don’t want to be there with anyone else.” And he’s adorable when he shrugs and says, “I only want you.”
“Well, fuck,” I say, and look around the parking lot likes he’s being unreasonable. I glance back at him teasingly and he laughs, gathering me up in another embrace.
“So you’ll go?” he asks, beaming.
“I mean… when is it?”
“Two weeks.”
I exhale, nervous, and bite my lip. He really wants me to say yes. “Yeah, all right,” I murmur, and glance to the back seat of his car. “But we should definitely get a hotel.”
“Definitely,” he repeats, nodding along. “Because my mom is a really light sleeper.”
+++
I tell Isaac that I’ll call him after I close up, saying no thanks when he offers to come by at two to help me. My body is still buzzing from our erotic encounter in the backseat of his car, but so is my head. My heart.
Going to his sister’s wedding, meeting his parents? That’s wild. That’s not just jumping the gun, that’s jumping to the finish line.
When I get to the bar, Reggie doesn’t ask where I’ve been, saying he has to take off. The bar is dead tonight, and I tell him to go ahead, and thank him for coming in. Eventually, I’ll have to start advertising or running specials, but I’ve been so overwhelmed, I haven’t figured out how.
Zoey offered to help once, and I might have to take her up on it. Normally she’d be my go-to on a dress, but she’s too damn tall. And Kinsey is a little too outrageous for me. So it looks like I’ll have to go to Cheyenne. I smile to myself, wondering what else she’ll spill about my brother.
I serve a few more drinks, and then decide to close up early when the customers are gone. I text Isaac, letting him know I don’t have to stay until two, after all, hoping he’ll invite me over again. But he doesn’t respond.
+++
Before grabbing my keys, I check my phone again, a sense of dread in my chest. It’s been twenty minutes since I sent the message—am I being unreasonable? Too needy?
Definitely, I think. I need to pull myself together.
I walk out the door, lock it, and when I turn, I notice the matte black Range Rover parked at the curb. I stare at it, and then Isaac gets out, wearing his baseball hat backwards. He smiles guiltily.
“I swear,” he says, hand over his heart. “I was already out and not planning to come by, but then you texted… and I thought, why not?”
“Already out?” I ask, not believing it.
He nods, and comes around the car to pause in front of me. “I swear it,” he says. “I was at the grocery store.”
“At eleven at night.”
He laughs. “Yes. You can check the back.”
I narrow my eyes, not sure if he’s messing with me. I walk with him to the back of the car, and he pops the trunk. Sure enough, there are several grocery bags. He reaches into one of them and plucks out a deep red rose.
“I got this for you,” he murmurs, holding it out.
I resist completely melting on the pavement as I take it from his hand and bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply.
“You are entirely too fucking cute, Isaac,” I say.
“Want to come over?” he asks, watching me.
“Kind of,” I say.
“That’s good because I kind of want you to.”
And so I wait as he closes the trunk, rose in my hand, and we get in his ride and head to his house.
+++
We don’t have sex. We hang out on his couch, having a beer, and then we go to bed together. It’s weird how it seems natural, like we’ve done this a million times. It’s so natural, in fact, that I don’t even think about the implications.
In the morning, Isaac made me coffee and told me not to get out of bed. He kissed my forehead and left for class. I stayed in his room, stunned at how comfortable I was in there, before showering and leaving to head back to my house.
I’m still sleepy—dazed in a blissful way—when I pull up to my house, and furrow my brow when I see a police cruiser in my driveway. I get out of the car, and hold up a confused wave when Porter steps off my porch decked out in his uniform. He eyes me suspiciously, a small smirk on his lips.
“Well, hello,” he says, and I roll my eyes, knowing he’s going to ask too many questions. I love my brother, but I hate that he’s a cop sometimes.
“Hello, Porter,” I say. “A little early for a social call, isn’t it?”
“A little late to be coming home, isn’t it?” he replies, and then smiles. “Does it have something to do with that boyfriend you don’t have?”
I stop in front of him, and cross my arms. “What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to know if you were with your boyfriend,” he says easily. “Isaac, right?”
“Porter,” I say, annoyed. “Why do you—?”
“Hey. I told you I like the kid. Why are you being weird about it?”
And I don’t really have an answer. I’m guarded, but more than that, I guess I don’t want to admit that Isaac is sort of my boyfriend. Once I make it true with my family, I can’t completely lie to myself anymore. It makes the relationship more than real; it makes it serious.
Porter walks to the top step of my porch and sits down, patting it next to him. “I was worried about you,” he says. “Zo said she texted you.”
My phone is dead, so I didn’t get any texts last night. I also didn’t care—Isaac was taking up my whole world. I sit next to my brother, and suddenly, my guard comes down. Porter has a way of getting through the walls.
“I like him,” I say quietly, looking sideways at him. “And he really likes me.”
“That’s good,” Porter says.
“His sister thinks I’m trash, basically.”
“That’s bad,” Porter says, and his blue eyes darken. “Why would she think that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know her, but she came into the bar. His family is… rich, I’m guessing. They live in Arizona, and Isaac asked me to go to his sister’s wedding in a few weeks. I’m scared,” I admit.
“Oh, Phoebe,” my brother says, knocking his knee into mine. “You get to be scared, but I don’t buy for a second that it’s because of some dude’s sister. You’re scared that you like him.”
He has a point, but it’s not the whole picture. I am scared of Isaac’s family. What if they’re horrible? And what if they convince him to drop me? I’d be humiliated. But more than that, I’d be heartbroken. I close my eyes.
“Porter…” I say, and look at him. “I think I love him,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “I know you do.”
He knows how heavy this moment is, the idea that I, of all people, would admit to loving someone is huge. It feels reckless.
Porter straightens, and gets up from the porch step. “And that leads to why I’m here,” he says. “Bring your new guy by the house tonight. Zoey wants to meet him.”
“What?” I say, glaring up at him. “You told her about him?”
He laughs. “Of course. And she’s thrilled.”
“You’re the worst secret keeper,” I mutter.
“See you at eight.”
“I have to work!” I announce. But Porter holds up his hand in goodbye, gets in his cruiser, and drives off.