Page 36 of My Infatuation with Isabella

January 25, 2025

Ihaven’t been ableto think straight for the last week, and if I have to be completely honest with myself, I’ve been moody as fuck. I’m snapping at everyone for any little thing. And I don’t mean to, but I just want to be left alone so I can think and process. I need time to recover from the bomb that was dropped on me last week because the aftershock of the blast is still rippling through my life. It rocked the foundation on which I’ve built...everything, and I just need time to stabilize because it feels like that foundation will crumble if I don’t do something to fix it.

Hearing her voice again opened doors I would’ve rather kept closed. And now I keep hearing it. I’ll just be brushing my teeth, and I’ll randomly hear her say,“Le sigh, De Lorenzo.”I’ll be eating dinner with my family, and I’ll hear her say,“It could use a bit of chili.”What she said the other night on the radio shouldn’t matter to me. I’m happy with Francesca now. We’ve been together for four years, married for two of them. Ten months can’t overshadow four years...yet it can. What Isabella said shouldn’t affect me...yet it does.

Scott is still apologizing, but I can’t accept it. I don’t know why he sent me that link. He said he thought I needed closure, but this is the opposite of closure! This is ripping open a door to my past that I’d shut and sealed. It took me two fucking years to move past all that, and now it feels like I’ve been flung back into 2019, just obsessing about her every second of the day. I don’t know what’s worse. Thinking she cheated on me...or knowing she didn’t. I can’t believe she would lie to me about something like that.

I bury the shitty feeling I have in the pit of my stomach and move out of 2019 back into the present. “Franny, can you please decide which one you want so we can go home? How is it possible thatmayonnaisecan trip you up like this?”

“There are so many to choose from.” She scans the variety of bottles on the shelf and picks up another one. “See, this one has the least amount of calories, but this one is so creamy.” She puts it down and picks up another bottle. “But this one has a garlicy-herb flavor to it.”

I glare at her, then proceed to dump all three bottles into the shopping cart. “Choice made. Let’s go.”

“We can’t take all three.”

I start pushing the cart toward the checkout counter. “Yeah, we can, and you’ll use all of them. On the days you’re being anal about your weight, you’ll use the low-fat one. On the days you feel like you want comfort food, you’ll have the creamy one. And on the days you want to beadventurousand make fancy...chicken-mayo sandwiches, you’ll use the garlic and herb one.”

She giggles, looping her arms around my waist as we walk to the counter. “You know me so well.”

I smile when she looks up at me and pluck a kiss on her lips. “I do. And I know that as soon as we get to the front, you’re gonna take some peanut butter cups, even though you said you were serious about not eating junk anymore.”

She tries to hide a sheepish grin. “They’re my favorite. If I get them, I think I’ll package them into little Ziplock bags and only eat a small portion every three days.”

I simultaneously chuckle and roll my eyes. “Just eat the whole damn thing, Fran. I don’t understand why you plan every little thing about your life. What you eat, when you eat it. Just do what you want.”

“It’s a well-known fact that women and men don’t have the same metabolism. You can eat whatever you want and still keep your physique. I have to plan my diet because if I eat the whole pack of peanut butter cups, my ass will jiggle for three weeks.”

“And what’s wrong with that? There’s nothing wrong with having a fat ass.”

The words spark a memory the second they leave my mouth.

Her body beneath me. My hand squeezing her supple flesh.

“You feel this fat ass, Dylan?”

“It’s so fat.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want to me. This body can take it.”

I shut my eyes to the image of her, brushing it off as I push the cart a few inches forward. I’m distracted when we reach the cashier, handing her the items one by one until the cart is empty.

She rings it up, then smiles at me. “Anything else, sir?”

“Well, I’d ask you to scan this, but she’s priceless.”

“Geez, De Lorenzo, save some of that cheese for a large pizza.”

This is the type of shit that has been going through my head ever since Scott decided that I needed fucking closure. Again, I brush it off. “No, that’s all, thank you.”

I pay, and Fran’s voice becomes background noise as we walk outside. See, the great thing is that Bella gave me a new association with grocery stores, but the problem is thatshebecame the new association. I used to think about her every time I went to the store, but eventually, those memories faded. I stopped drawing that connection to her, but today...today her whiskey voice keeps echoing in my head.

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