Letting Go (15 page)

“
I just wanted to give you your romantic moment,” she grinned.

He
turned to her again. “About that—what happened this morning?” he asked, frowning.

Isabelle
smiled. “You bought me a toothbrush.”

“
And that was romantic how?”

“You are thoughtful enough to know a toothbrush is exactly the thing a girl needs when her luggage
gets stolen. Not to mention that you took the trouble to go get it early in the morning. For me.”

“Yeah,”
Harper sighed.

She thought they were experiencing a car version of cabin fever. The intensity of the past day had made them both feel awkward. There were too many intimate moments and no way to give vent to all the emotions.

When he didn’t say anything more, she felt compelled to look at him. He returned her gaze without flinching. His dark eyes made him look vulnerable. They were like chocolate wrapped in caramel, melting her resolve. Was this real, she wondered? Any of it? Was she dreaming this whole trip, the stolen luggage, the stolen heart?

H
is hand cupped her cheek and she felt a shiver, just like when they had danced. The smell of his skin when his thumb just barely caressed her cheekbone was intoxicating. Her eyes lowered to his lips, pouting, moist, ever closer.

The
ir first kiss was shattering in its simple beauty. She’d imagined his lips would crush hers, bruise them with dominance and need, but his touch was more like a soft invitation. He was so sweetly submissive, giving her the chance to pull back, that her head swam with giddiness.

B
ut backing off was the last thing on her mind. She gripped his shoulders and felt the warmth of his skin seep through his t-shirt. He smelled so good, of rain and aftershave. His tongue teased her lips before he kissed her again, his warm fingers in her hair. His dark gaze was burning with emotions; she had to close her eyes not to get scorched.

She
found herself in Harper’s lap, his hands on her back, under her jacket, her legs wrapped around his thighs. Her fingers were tangled in his soft, silky hair, their tongues engaged in a dance that made her head spin. He stirred a profound blend of pain and ecstasy deep inside her. A hunger that was blissful because it was insatiable. Because his lips and tongue and hands tried over and over and over again to sate it, failing, and then trying again.

H
e moaned when she moved and pressed tighter against him. His warm body left an imprint on hers, his repeatedly broken heart connected with her soul when his dark eyes stared at her and he whispered her name.

She tried to tell him to kiss her again, but
she didn’t have to. His lips were on her jaw, her neck, her ear, kissing, whispering her name, doing wonders to her body that had never before felt so volatile, so prone to unpredictable responses.

She lifted her face toward the rain as he
kissed her neck. Feeling his mouth and hands on her was so satisfying, it hurt. Her hand found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up, exposing his abs to the cold air and then warming them with her hands, fingers stroking his skin, as if reading Braille.

It was surreal, this feeling
. She hadn’t known it existed, something so tender and explosive simultaneously. She was drunk from it. Drunk from Harper.

“
Isabelle,” he said. When he repeated it with more urgency, Isabelle realized his voice sounded too sober. She could feel his warm, panting breath on her neck.

“Hm?” she murmured with her
heavy-lidded eyes, kissing his forehead and then his ear.

“
Isabelle …”

She looked at him, at the dark expression on his face. And then it hit her. What they had done. What
she
had done. He tried hugging her to him, but she jumped up from his lap.

“
Oh god!” She couldn’t believe it. The images, feelings, sensations rushed to catch up with her consciousness, as if she’d just come to. “Oh my god.”

Harper
didn’t say anything as he got up with difficulty. He helped her put on her jacket that had somehow ended up on the bench next to them. He picked up the trash from their snack while she buttoned up, fingers stumbling over buttons.

“Hey,” he took hold of her hand. “Calm down,
Isabelle.”

“Calm down? You insane? I just … we …” she sputtered.

“We’ll talk about this. It’s not as bad as it seems. Calm down, please,” he begged.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. As she ran through the downpour to the car, she thought she heard him kick the trash can.
Or it might have been a clap of thunder.

The second he started the car, it stopped raining.

Isabelle looked up at the fading clouds. “Fuck off!” She couldn’t remember when she had last sworn but she thought the situation and the weather merited it.

Unlike the turmoil in her, e
verything else seemed to have calmed down. The thunder was gone, so was the rain. The day looked brighter. On the radio, Pink sang “we’re not broken, just bent”, seducing the mists that rose up from the wet road ahead of them. Harper’s fingers tapped the wheel in rhythm.

Isabelle
could strangle him for the noise, but she refrained from talking to him. She didn’t know what to say. Regret was choking her. Tears threatened to fall even though she wasn’t one for crying.

Minutes ago, she’d felt unimaginable happiness in his arms.
Bliss. When his lips touched hers it was like he kissed her soul. Like he was meant to kiss her. Surprisingly softly, shaking her of any presumptions she’d had about him as an aggressive, wild guy. It was his gentleness, the way he followed her pace, that got to her. He was the complete opposite of Jamie …

Isabelle
couldn’t believe she was comparing them. She felt disgusted with herself.

Harper
turned to face her, startling her out of her miserable thoughts. “What now?” He sounded as if he already knew the answer.

What was he expecting her to say? She
remained silent.

“I take it you regret it, then?”
She couldn’t interpret his voice.

Although her first reaction was
to say ‘yes, of course, what do you think, I cheated on my boyfriend who happens to be your brother’, she hesitated. How could she regret it? The few minutes with Harper fulfilled a longing she hadn’t even known she had harbored. Filled an emptiness that she only recognized in hindsight—a hunger for passion she hadn’t known it existed, much less experienced before. But how could she not regret it? She’d had a wonderful, stable relationship with Jamie who was so much like her. And that was gone, like a drop of water evaporating from a hot pan. She’d ruined it.

After a long moment, he
said, “Of course you do.” Harper looked defeated, fed up, angry.

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t, but she was afraid he’d take it as a confirmation that what they had done was okay.
“Do you have any idea what this will do to Jamie? How badly I hurt him? How I betrayed, not just him, but myself too?”

“He’ll
get upset, he’ll want to fight me, but eventually, he’ll forgive you everything. If you don’t know that, you don’t know him at all,” Harper said matter-of-factly.

“Even if he does, I’ll never forgive myself,”
Isabelle said, her voice breaking.

“I notice you’re not particularly concerned about my
feelings,” Harper quipped.

Her heart broke for him
, but she didn’t have the strength to say anything. She didn’t have a single word of solace to offer. How did one make things right after they had ruined everything?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and
hid her face in her palms.

He said, “What are you going to do?”

“What choice do I have? I have to tell him. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

Harper
nodded and they didn’t speak again for an entire hour until he dropped her off at home.

She didn’t know what to say to him
when he stopped the car in front of her house. Thanking him for the ride would sound like a joke after everything that had happened. Not saying anything felt equally cruel. What did one say in a situation like this? Isabelle guessed there weren’t many people that found themselves in such a mess at all.

She looked over at him and his eyes met hers. He looked tired, forlorn. His hand was on the steering
wheel as if he were in a hurry to get away from her. She could understand.

“
Harper …”

He averted his eyes, nodding. His gesture said too much.
Isabelle felt tears sliding down her cheeks. She lifted her hand to touch his, but then changed her mind. It would only hurt more.

She slipped out
of the car and closed the door as quietly as possible. He drove off slowly as if he had nowhere to be any time soon. She wondered where he was going. To the place he shared with Jamie? Under a highway bridge somewhere, like years before?

“What did I do?”
Isabelle breathed, staring at the black Chevy as it disappeared around the corner.

She wiped her cheeks, sniffing,
combed her short hair with her fingers and entered her house. Instead of Dad, she found his message on the kitchen table.

Chloe was here, she said you’ll be a day late. So sorry I can’t wait for you, but there’s this comet we’re researching and I was needed at the lab. I hope you enjoyed Paris. Be good. I’ll be back later tonight. Love, Dad.

p.s. I bought a new phone. Call me if you need anything.

Good old Dad,
Isabelle thought. For a change, she was grateful to have the house to herself. She would hate to explain her haunted look and the tear-streaked face to him. But there was someone she wanted—no, needed to talk to.

Chloe
didn’t hesitate when she heard that Isabelle needed a sympathetic ear. She came over in fifteen minutes. It was obvious that she understood the emergency of the situation; she didn’t waste time changing from her yoga pants and t-shirt.

“What happened?” she asked as she burst through the front door.

Instead of explaining, Isabelle hugged her. They stood embraced for long minutes. When Isabelle pulled away and Chloe saw her teary eyes, she said, “Come on, Isabelle, you don’t cry.”

“I know. But I
can’t help myself.”

Chloe
ordered her to sit on the couch while she prepared some tea. Isabelle wasn’t surprised to see that Chloe had brought several tea bags with her. She knew they only had coffee at Isabelle’s house. It was more than a thoughtful gesture; it was what only best friends did.

Isabelle
was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Her mind was telling her this wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure felt like it. She’d hurt two people she cared deeply about. Her emotions were all jumbled. Was what happened with Harper even real? Did they kiss because they had spent too much time in close quarters? Did she stop loving Jamie? Was she just confused? There were no answers to the endless, painful questions.

Chloe
handed her a warm mug, softly blowing on her own tea before taking a sip. She observed Isabelle over the rim of her mug for a few moments, before she said, “Tell me.”

Isabelle
inhaled shakily and then told her everything the way it happened, trying not to change things in retrospect. It took the good part of fifteen minutes when Chloe listened, nodded, listened some more. Isabelle talked herself hoarse, more with the overwhelming emotions than with words.

“So?”
Chloe said, surprisingly refraining from making any comments even on the part where Isabelle told her about the make-out session.

“So what?”

“How do you feel about him?”

“Who?”

“The guy you just told me you kissed and liked it?” Chloe said with a grin.

Isabelle
spread her hands. “I ...” After a long moment when she wasn’t able to find the words, she gave up. “I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore.”

“You’ll tell
Jamie?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” Chloe nodded, deeply in thoughts.

“Don’t you think I should?”
Isabelle asked.

“I think you should do what you fe
el you should.”

Isabelle
wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “Wouldn’t you tell him if you were in my position?”

Chloe
sipped her tea, thinking. “It’s not that, Isabelle. You say you don’t know how you feel about anything? The thing is, what you do now will perhaps clarify the situation for you.”

“How?”
Isabelle lifted her hands. “How can anything help me fix this mess?”

“Depends on what fixing the mess means for you.”

“Stop with this philosophical nonsense, Chloe. I need actual, solid advice.” Isabelle was annoyed with Chloe’s calmness and her beating about the bush. She knew her outburst was unfair, seeing how Chloe came running the second she asked for her help, but she was on edge.