Page 36 of Hunter

“She’s coming,” Kasia says as she reappears in the dining room. “Wait till you see her, Mr. Devane. She’s breathtaking.” The younger woman smiles wide, her face alight with excitement. She has worked tirelessly setting up the space since I confessed my plan this morning.

My dining room has never looked so romantic in all the years I’ve lived here. There’s never been a reason for it to be considering I’ve never had a woman in my home before. Our home. What should have been Isabella’s and my home. It’s a room I’ve never spent much time in. Eating by yourself on a daily basis isn’t a pleasant experience—there is no need for a space dedicated to it when you’re on your own.

But this evening, the long mahogany table is set with perfect crystal and white porcelain. There’s a huge bouquet of red roses at the top, green leaves in contrast to the romantic tones. Soft classical music plays in the background as candles flicker on every surface.

The sound of heels on wood cuts through the melody. I look up just as Isabella steps into the room. Shadow hides her at first, but as she moves forward, the candlelight slowly brings her into view. First the long lace dress appears, hugging her curvy frame and highlighting each swell perfectly while nipping in at her waist. As the light moves up her body, it finally falls on her face, perfectly adorned with light makeup that doesn’t hide her natural beauty.

We stand at opposite ends of the room, me dressed in my tuxedo and her in the dress she wore all those years before. Once I snap out of the trance she created, I walk over to her, hand outstretched.

“You look incredible, Bella,” I tell her, taking her hand and lifting her knuckles to my lips. “Like the last time I saw you in this dress.” She giggles, her focus dropping away to the floor, obviously shy. After a few moments, she looks up once more.

“You’re sweet,” she says in a whisper. “But we both know this isn’t the same dress.”

“Perhaps not, but this one looks just as good if not better.” I lean down once again and kiss the back of her hand. The tension of the night, which had been building as I waited for her to appear, is increasing second by second. “This way.” I lead her to the table, pulling out her chair. She lowers herself down, patting her wedding dress into an acceptable shape with delicate fingers.

Kasia appears again, gliding into the dining room with a bottle of champagne as I take my seat opposite Isabella. She pours us each a glass of the crisp liquid. I pick up my flute and Isabella mimics my movement. We both lean forward, tapping the crystal softly together.

“To new beginnings,” I say.

Isabella pauses, not taking a sip as I do. Her eyes stay focused on mine as she watches me sip. Slowly, her glass moves to her lips and she drinks before holding it steady mid-air.

“To a beneficial agreement.” Her toast is short but direct. She angles the flute toward me, and I pause, unnerved by her words. “May the next eleven months allow us to find the correct path.”

“Here, here,” I whisper, then we both drink again.

This time, it is Ronan who appears in the room carrying two small plates. He places one in front of Isabella, then myself. She looks from the plate to me then back at her plate. I wait to see if she realizes what is in front of her.

“Is this?” she says and I grin, delighted she has already realized my plan. The small touches are being noticed, and it means the world.

“Yes. It’s our wedding meal. I promised you a do-over, and we’re having one.”

As the second course is laid before us, Isabella clears her throat.

Until that point, we’ve been talking about her new studio and what she accomplished in her first filming session. Her face is lit up as she details what she did, her upcoming plans, and how she sees her brand developing over the coming months and years. She is genuinely breathtaking, highlighting each stage of her progress and goals. Everything I loved about her all those years ago is still here on display in front of me. She is a more confident and driven version of her younger self, making her irresistible.

“Your letters,” she murmurs, almost silent, but I know what she said. “They were…” Her words disappear as her confidence wavers with the discussion. My nerves rise with the uncertainty of what she is going to say. A few seconds of nothing feels like an eternity waiting for an answer.

“They were what? Bella.”

“Honest.” Of all the things she could have described in my letters, that was a word I never expected. “They are beautiful, Hunter. I haven’t read them all.” She giggles again, and a soft flush coats her cheeks. “They’re too many for one day. I may have never made it to dinner. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“They were always yours,” I tell her. “I just never had the confidence to send them.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

That statement is even more unpredictable than how she described my correspondence. My skin prickles with the unwanted negativity. Her mouth thins a fraction, her brow creasing in thought as she picks her words. No doubt she senses my unease and feels the need to elaborate.

“I don’t mean I don’t want to read them,” she begins. “It’s just back then, I would never have appreciated what you had to say. I was hurt, Hunter, hurt in more ways than I know how to describe.” She lifts her cutlery and starts to push chicken around her plate, clearly nervous by the direction of our conversation, even though she started it. “All I felt was pain and loss; realism wasn’t within my vocabulary.”

“Bella, that night hurt us both, but it doesn’t need to destroy us any more than it already has. We have a chance.”

“It’s been twenty years…” she challenges.

“Yes, but we have at least twenty more to live, and I want to live them with you.”

Our meal continues, and we discuss what she had read that afternoon. Isabella has a lot of questions regarding my business dealings, the places I’ve been, and the time we spent apart. Some of her questions seem mundane, and I must remind myself that although I’ve had a window into her world all this time, she hasn’t had one into mine.

Throughout our conversation, she skips around different topics, and I sense there’s something she wants to ask but is uncertain whether to. After I have brought her up to speed in my current car acquisition business, she takes a deep breath and white teeth bite into plump pink lips.

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