Page 5 of His Relentless Angel

I know what she thinks. What everyone thinks. That I should give up on Isaiah. Throw all my love for him in the trash and forget about him. Move on and date boys my age. As if I would ever let any boy touch me when I belong wholly to Isaiah. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn with nausea.

Autumn circles her arm around my waist for a quick side-hug, then retreats without another word. I only pull my eyes away from the window to check the time on my phone and my notifications, hoping to see a birthday text or something from Isaiah for the first time after all the texts I’ve sent him over the years have gone unanswered. I’ve had plenty of messages from other people throughout the day but none from the man who truly matters.

My eyes burn with tears that I refuse to let fall because doing so would only lead to more pity as I say goodbye to my friends Kacee, Danica, and Cade. James and Shayla pull me into a group hug before they leave. A flash of jealousy spears me deep in my heart when Shayla’s rounded pregnant belly presses into my hip. She whispers against my temple, “Happy birthday, sis. Love you.”

Lainey and Grayson stop bickering long enough to say, “Happy birthday, Aunt BeeBee,” at the same time. I’ve been putting on a smile and laughing all night, but this is the first time it’s genuine. They promptly shoot each other annoyed looks and start up again. Lainey sticks her tongue out at Grayson, and he grabs her long ponytail, which leads to more screaming.

James steps between them while I bend to kiss my nephews, Gentry and Artie, then fake another smile as James and Shayla herd their children through the front door and across the street to their house. The house two doors down on Shayla’s side of the street is up for sale, and it would be the perfect place for Isaiah and me to raise our future family if he would just stop resisting my love.

I have the floor plans on my laptop with collages for each room, including paint color, furniture, and home decor. We could each have a room—one for his office since he works remotely and one for my sewing room. That would leave us with the primary and one extra for a nursery, but we could build on it just as James and Shayla have done to accommodate more kids. Besides the fact that I’d have an extra-long commute to school each day while I’m still in college, it’s perfect.

But in order for us to put in an offer on the house before someone else snatches it up, Isaiah needs to show up, tell everyone that he’s done pretending not to love me, and propose…which I’m still waiting for him to do. And waiting. And waiting. And…

As soon as my thoughts turn bleak, I straighten my spine and repeat in my head, Positive thoughts only. Manifest your dreams. Isaiah and I will be together soon enough, proving to everyone that I’m not crazy or delusional for thinking he loves me.

The positive thoughts I’m trying so hard to hold onto grow quiet until they almost, almost blink out of existence after my parents, Brady, and Autumn go to bed, leaving only the light on in the kitchen. It’s nearing midnight, and I’m still standing at the window, watching as fewer cars drive by slowly, waiting for Isaiah as the haze creeps in. It hurts so much I can hardly breathe as my heart takes another blow.

But then a thought hits me square in the face, and it’s so obvious! I should have realized it sooner. He needs me to come to him. Of course he wouldn’t want to show up and declare his love for me while a houseful of people stood by and watched us. The moment the rest of our lives begin together shouldn’t have an audience. It should be private and special and just for the two of us.

I hurry into the cream-colored hall bathroom, hands shaking as I brush out my hair, which I’ve left to grow close to halfway down my back, to make sure it’s shiny and neat, careful not to snag my dangly gold earrings with the brush. I readjust my girls in the white sundress with delicate blue flowers I finished sewing last weekend. I chose to make and wear it specifically for Isaiah, dreaming of what he would say when he saw me.

The thin straps that tie in bows at the tops of my shoulders and the low neckline and ruching around my breasts highlight how much I’ve transformed into a woman in the last few years. The stretchy material clings to my waist and hips before falling softly below my knees. I stick my leg out to the side, admiring the way the high slit—which Daddy had grumbled about—ends at the top of my slightly rounder thigh, further proving to the world that I’m no longer the skinny thirteen-year-old kid Isaiah met.

Tiptoeing to the front door so the low heels of my dressy white sandals don’t click against the floor, I grab my car keys and lock the front door behind me. Lightning flashes in the distance as I start up the white Honda I inherited from Shayla after James bought her a fancy pink Volvo S90 as a high school graduation gift, though I had to wait a few years before I could get my driver’s license to drive it.

I ignore the pinch of pain at the memory of Isaiah showing up to my graduation, standing and cheering me on when I crossed the stage a year ahead in school since I had skipped the first grade. He stayed long enough after the ceremony to congratulate me and then ran away when I tried to hug him with my arms over his shoulders.

I hate driving as it is, and it’s all the more nerve-wracking when the storm rolls in faster than I expected. Rain falls in sheets halfway through the fifteen-minute drive to the condo he bought last year once construction was completed, which slows me down further as I crawl under the speed limit since it’s so hard to see. I pull under the covered parking spot next to Isaiah’s black Lexus IS350 in front of his second-floor unit, judging the distance from the car, across the small lawn to the bottom of the stairs, and then up and to the right to his white front door—as well as the likelihood of showing up looking like a drowned rat since the stairs aren’t covered. I curse myself for forgetting to grab one of the umbrellas by the front door at home but brighten when I think of how the rain may be a good thing, making my dress further cling to my body.

My smile trembles with nervous energy when I sprint through the rain, step under the narrow awning above Isaiah’s door, and knock on it, soaking wet. The heat and humidity in the fall are still soul-sucking, yet I shiver as water runs in rivulets down my skin, my heart racing with adrenaline and anticipation of Isaiah saying, “Finally,” and drawing me into his arms when he opens the door.

But that’s not at all what he does when he answers the door after another round of knocking. He rubs the sleep from his eyes before he puts on his thick glasses with a frown that tugs the corners of his lips down instead of up into a wondrous smile. He’s dressed in a tight black T-shirt stretched across wide shoulders and a tapered waist, and I lose my breath seeing him in his baggy gray sweatpants.

He shakes his head, and after dragging a hand down the back of his fresh high taper fade haircut, he drops his fist to the doorframe. He’s holding onto the edge of the open door with his other hand, blocking the entryway like he’s expecting me to try pushing my way into the condo.

“You shouldn’t be here, Bailey. Go home,” he says quietly but with an edge to it, not once looking below my neck to appreciate the dress I wore for him.

“But—”

“Go home, Bailey,” he says again more firmly and inches the door closed, dashing my hope that he was waiting for me to come to him so he could sweep me into his arms without prying eyes.

I stuff down my hurt feelings, jut my hip out with a fake smile, and say playfully, “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday? You know I turned—”

He sighs. “Happy birthday. Get home safely.”

I strain to hold my smile in place, and tears silently mix with the rainwater dripping from my hair. I sound so small when I say, “But I’m eighteen. You don’t have to pretend you don’t love me anymore.”

He sighs louder, clenches his eyes closed, and drops his forehead to his fisted hand. “It doesn’t matter how old you are.”

I clutch my hands together so I don’t grab him by his shirt and shake him. “Yes, it does. I’m an adult now. There’s nothing stopping us from being together. You love me. I know you do…” I add a silent, right?

“Bailey,” Isaiah snaps with exasperation. I take a step back out of the protection of the awning, unintentionally dousing myself with more rain. I sputter and step forward again, and his square jaw drops. His chestnut eyes finally dip to my chest, and he groans.

There it is. The hot look I knew he would finally give me when I showed up, my white dress having turned slightly transparent in the rain. I put my hands behind my back, breathing faster, making my chest rise and fall noticeably. The sky turns bright white with a bolt of lightning, and a thunderous boom makes his front window rattle to the right of the door. It’s way too close, and I scream. Isaiah’s arm shoots out to wrap around my back. He pulls me inside and slams the door closed just as the next bolt of lightning and thunder shakes the unit.

His large palm is so warm and comforting on my back, and I don’t hesitate to sink against his chest, dropping my forehead between his pecs and stealing more of his body heat. My belly flutters as I drag in deep lungfuls of his honeyed scent.

He wraps his other arm around my naked upper back. “Shit, B, you’re shaking.”

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