Page 125 of Enigma: An Isaac Retelling
Acting oblivious to the scold in my tone, she loops her arm around my elbow, then attempts to guide me across the street to an establishment more suitable for a woman who was raised with a golden spoon in her mouth. Silver is too below par for Clara.
I say ‘attempt’ because before she can budge me an inch, I yank out of her grasp then mutter, “I have a prior engagement, so unless you can say whatever you need to say in five minutes, it will have to wait.” It is more like thirty minutes, but I’d rather not disclose that to her.
“Okay. Fine.” She pauses a beat to give me time to gauge the authenticity of the apologetic gleam shimmering in her eyes before she continues, “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted atMummo Koti.Although it was a highly stressful time with Remy’s anniversary looming, my child-like behavior was not called-for, and for that, I am sorry.”
Her apology sounds genuine, but I’m still skeptical. “The anniversary of Remy’s death is still six months away.” I know because it was only six months ago she called me sobbing and inconsolable.
“I know that.” She guides us closer to the wall so the foot traffic can bypass us without impeding us. “I meant theanniversary of the day we met.”
“Oh.” I’m rarely at a loss for words, but her reply has me a little stumped. People who haven’t lost anyone significant in their life assume you only grieve the day they died. They forget about anniversaries, birthdays, and sometimes just a brief moment in time you thought you’d experience a thousand times over but only achieve once.
“So, as I am sure you can understand, I was hormonal, wretched, and…” she laughs as if our conversation is nowhere near as serious as it is, “… quite moody. But that doesn’t excuse the way I acted.” She steps closer to me, her eyes pleading. “I would love to make it up to you. Perhaps dinner?” Before I can advise her that isn’t necessary, she waves her hand to Harlow’s bakery. “We could double date with Cormack and Harlow. That would be fun.” Her face exposes her true response is starkly opposing to her high pitch. “Shall I ask Harlow now?”
“No.” I snatch up her hand before she can get two steps away from me. “I’m trying to keep a low profile.” Since my reply isn’t a lie, it doesn’t sound like one. “And I am also seeing someone.”
“Oh.” Clara looks as stumped as I did earlier, but she recovers quickly. “Who?” When I stuff my hands into my pockets, frustrated by her blasé response, she stammers out, “I’m playing, Isaac. I am just grateful my antics didn’t scare Isabelle away.” She fans her hand across my chest before saying with a snooty laugh, “It wouldn’t be the first time one of us has scared away a potential suitor. It’s been like this for years. I don’t see it changing anytime soon.” That’s her way of saying she has been a part of my life a lot longer than Isabelle, and she is planning to stay just as long. “I’m more than happy to extend an invite to Isabelle. If you forward me her number, I’ll reach out to her later today.”
She stops rummaging in her designer purse for her cell phone when I reply, “I’m not ready to go public with my relationship just yet.” When hope flares through her eyes, I quickly mutter, “It’s more exciting when it has an edge of secrecy to it. I’m sure you understand. You kept your relationship with Remy hidden from your family for months, didn’t you?”
She nods. “But for a good reason.”
I slant my head and arch a dark brow. “Are you saying mine are not?”
“No! It’s just…” She pauses, swallows, then starts again, “If things are already getting so tedious, you need to add gimmicks into the mix, perhaps this isn’t the relationship for you.”
“Things are not tedious. Far from it.” I guide her toward the curb before signaling for a cab. “But since I have a prior engagement, I don’t have the hours needed to tell you exactly how adventurous things are.”
Clara gasps before she snaps her mouth shut, then she pulls herself back together. “I don’t need a cab. I have a driver waiting for me around the corner.” After pressing a kiss to my cheek, she pivots around and stalks away while muttering, “You know where to find me when you need me.”
“If I need you,” I correct, but she’s swallowed by pedestrians before she can hear my reply.
Just as quickly, I enter Harlow’s bakery. I have twenty-five minutes to kill before my arranged meeting with Isabelle, but since I’ll never make it to the other side of town and back in enough time, I place Isabelle first instead of my quest for revenge.
Perhaps if I had done that sooner, we wouldn’t need to hide our blooming relationship.
49
“Are you sure there isn’t something I can get you?” Harlow clears away my empty coffee mug before wiping down the tabletop like it has been as scolded by my glare the past hour as Hugo.
He’s been watching me through the front window of Harlow’s bakery the past thirty minutes, his smile picking up every time I glance down at my watch. He loves that Isabelle doesn’t jump on queue. I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum.
Too frustrated to act nonchalant for a second longer, I answer Harlow with a head shake before I yank my cell phone out of my pocket.
“Oh, shit,” Harlow murmurs when I punch out a message to Isabelle.
Me:Isabelle, where are you?
When Harlow spots my rueful glare, she snaps her eyes away from the screen of my cell phone, mutters something about needing to rise bread, then darts into the kitchen at the back of her bakery.
While she occupies herself doing something that requires a lot of cluttering and banging, I stare at my phone, willing it to ring.
When that doesn’t occur within the next ten minutes, I send another message.
Me:I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour.
Two if you count how early I arrived.
When my messages sit unread for another ten minutes, I toss a bundle of bills onto the table to pay for my coffee, then exit the bakery under the amused watch of Hugo.
