Page 1 of His Relentless Angel

Chapter 1

Bailey - 13 years old

“He’s so beautiful, just like a movie star,” I breathe out, lovingly tracing Isaiah’s extra tall build in his fine black groomsman suit and his strong, freshly shaved jaw. His dark brown skin has deepened slightly over the summer, and I want to kiss along the shadows cast by his high cheekbones to his lovely lips. I can’t stop staring at him, moving my gaze up further to the most expressive, burnished—I looked that up in a thesaurus—chestnut brown eyes I’ve ever seen in my life behind his thick, black, square-rimmed glasses. I can’t wait to become Mrs. Bailey Owens when I turn eighteen and we can finally be together.

“Isaiah? He’s so old and a huge nerd like James.” Autumn scrunches up her face, a near mirror image of my own but with a more delicate chin and blue eyes that are so light that when she looks at you, it’s like she’s staring into your soul, ready to suck it out. I shudder. “He’s wearing a pink bow tie with a bunch of weird dice on them.”

“Shut up!” I shove her shoulder. “He’s only twenty-eight, and I think his bow tie is cute.”

“No, you shut up, you weirdo!” She shoves me back with less oomph since she’s a lot shorter than me despite us being so close in age.

Mom steps between us, fiddling with the end of her long graying-brown braid with one hand, holding my almost one-year-old baby brother, Brady, in the other, dressed in a flowy mauve mother-of-the-bride type dress. She narrows her gray eyes and shushes us as James leads Shayla into the middle of the dance floor under a soft spotlight for their first dance as husband and wife. The way they stare at each other like no one else in the world exists…that’s how I look at Isaiah. One day, I know that’s how he’ll look at me, too.

Shayla looks like an angel in her white gossamer wedding gown with tiny pink and white flowers braided into her light blonde hair like a halo. After a few minutes into the dance by themselves, Autumn pretends to gag when they start making out, and the DJ invites other couples to join them. Eyes set on Isaiah on the opposite side of the room, I pick up the long chiffon material of my pale pink junior bridesmaid dress so I don’t trip on the hem.

Autumn groans behind me and says, “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” as I make my way quickly across the dance floor toward him.

I couldn’t have planned it better when James and Isaiah’s other nerdy friend, Martin, bows like a medieval knight and holds out a hand to ask Eden, Shayla’s maid of honor, to dance, leaving Isaiah standing by himself. I arrive breathlessly right before one of my older distant cousins, Megan, strides up to him in an ivory dress that I accidentally-on-purpose spilled a cherry Coke down the front of earlier. It serves her right for wearing a color so close to white to my sister’s wedding. Mom only pretended to scold me for it afterward.

Megan opens her mouth like she’s going to ask my future husband to dance. I shoot her a glare to back off and even come close to sticking my tongue out when she sees me and stops. But that’s not what a mature woman would do, so I pinch my lips together.

“Hi, Isaiah.” I giggle through my nerves after Megan turns away, then groan internally because a mature woman wouldn’t do that either. Crap.

“Hey, B,” he says in the baritone voice I could listen to him use for hours and hours and hours. I love it when he calls me B. Ever since he started, I haven’t allowed anyone else to do so. I searched online for forever until I found the most perfect piece of jewelry—a necklace with a tiny fourteen-karat gold bumblebee pendant—and saved up my allowance for weeks until I had enough money to buy it. I haven’t taken it off since. I never will.

I smooth down my dress and try to smile confidently. “Do you want to dance?”

His brows shoot up to his black hairline cut in a razor-sharp, perfectly straight line, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, wouldn’t you rather dance with—”

“No. I only want to dance with you. Please?” I hold out my hand, hoping he’ll take it.

“All right,” he says reluctantly, pinching my heart, but I ignore it. “Just one dance.”

I bounce and squeal in my head when he sets the tumbler of dark liquid he’s holding on the nearest round table with a baby pink tablecloth. Everything will be shades of orange at our wedding—Isaiah’s favorite color and mine.

When Isaiah finally takes my hand, I charge through the other guests, dragging him out onto the dance floor. I’m almost to the middle, next to James and Shayla, when I trip over the hem of my dress. My hand slips out of Isaiah’s, and I go sprawling on the floor on my belly in front of literally everybody, who collectively gasp.

“Shit, are you ok?” Isaiah wraps an arm under my waist and lifts me off the floor. He ducks in front of me once I’m on my feet and tips my head back with two fingers under my chin. “Don’t cry, B. You’re ok.” I didn’t even realize I was crying until Isaiah swipes a thumb across my cheek.

Isaiah’s warm hand on my cheek is all I’ve ever dreamed about, and I can’t even appreciate it as Mom and Shayla hover at my side, fussing over me, drawing even more attention. “Please stop,” I say in a low voice before gathering the stupid material of my stupid dress and hurrying off the stupid dance floor toward the restrooms.

“Hey, hey.” Isaiah catches up to me in the softly lit hallway before I get to the ladies’ room, and he cups my elbow to stop me from going inside. “You promised me a dance,” he says in an upbeat voice.

I turn, staring at the top button of his waistcoat instead of up at his face, my cheeks hot. “Everyone saw me fall.”

“No, they didn’t.” He tips my chin up again.

“Yes, they did. It’s so embarrassing.”

Isaiah grabs my hand. “Come on.” He leads me out of the hallway and back to the dance floor. We’re almost to the exact spot I fell when he pretends to trip over his big feet and goes sprawling on his belly, just like I did, landing with a loud oomph.

“Oh my god.” I giggle behind my hand as he gets up on his knees, grinning at me.

“See? No big deal.”

I pick up his glasses from where they’d fallen on the floor before James can step on them and slide them onto his face before he stands. “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him with a big smile.

“It was a total accident.” He winks, waving off James and Shayla, who have drifted closer to check on him. James and Isaiah are best friends, and when we get married, they’ll be brothers-in-law, and our kids will be cousins. It’ll be perfect.

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