Page 51 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“Aw, you guys make such a sweet couple,” Fran coos.

“They’re not a couple,” I say. “They’re best friends.”

Fran kisses my cheek. “Well, we were best friends, and look how we ended up.”

That statement causes a blanket of tension to settle over Bella and I. My eyes meet hers and so many words are exchanged without us saying anything. Words of betrayal and guilt and hurt...and longing. She’s testing the boundaries of my undead feelings because I didn’t know it was possible to want someone so badly while hating them so much.

Tommy notices the glances between us and decides to cut through the tension. “Yeah, Izzy and I will never be anything more than friends...which brings me to the real reason I came over here. Helen, you beautiful woman, bring your tight little ass over here.” He shifts a step to the right and reaches over the counter to take Helen’s hands in his. “From tomorrow, I officially don’t work here anymore, so theno fraternizing with the customersrule falls away. If you want to slip me your number before you leave...”

Helen giggles when he lowers his voice to whisper in her ear. Another barista places two cappuccinos on the counter. “Orders 312 and 313,” he says. “314 is almost done.”

“It would be done already if Tommy wasn’t so busy flirting.” Isabella’s complaint is accompanied by a giggle. “We’re still on the clock, Cassanova. You need to?”

She stops when her eyes drift to me again and she notices that I’m still watching her every move. Just once, I’d like for her to not be so distracting, to not be a beacon that draws all my attention in her direction. Is it too much to ask for just one day when she’s not a walking temptation? Even though her skirt is an appropriate length now compared to our high school days, she’s still showing off the most enticing amount of skin, and her shirt somehow exposes just the right amount of cleavage. The situation is awkward enough as it is without me forcing myself to look elsewhere, just tonotgawk at her.

“You cupcaking, sir?” she asks.

The question shocks me but intrigues Francesca. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, cupcaking,” Bella explains. “That’s just a term we use when a customer is discreetly checking out our array of goods on display.” She moves to the left until she’s behind the glass food cabinet. She catches her lower lip between her teeth and heat surges through my body. “Would you like a cupcake, sir? We have these ones here withextrafrosting.”

I chuckle at her antics, even though I’m grinding my teeth beneath my smile. This particular power play is both bitchy and disarming because I don’t know how to react. Part of me is stunned that she could say something like that in front of Fran, but eventually, I find my voice. “No, thanks. I’m not interested in anything on offer.”

“You sure?” Her cocky smile widens. “The way you were staring made me think you secretly want a cupcake.”

“Nope. They look great...probably taste great, too. But they’re packed with a lot of unhealthy stuff that’s just not good for me.”

Francesca loops one arm around my waist and runs her other hand down my abs. “As you can see, my husband is careful about what he puts into his body. He limits his sugar intake. I, on the other hand, have no willpower when it comes to sweet treats...so I’m going to take a chocolate cupcake.”

“Really, Watson?” I ask with a short laugh. “You said the ice cream sundae you had last Friday was thelasttreat for the rest of the month.”

“Andyou just heard me say I have no willpower.”

If there was a power game going on, I just won. It wasn’t intentional, but that hurt her. I saw the first sign when Fran called me her husband, the second when I called her Watson. The whole interaction hurt her. I can see it in the way her amber eyes follow Fran’s hand as it moves across my chest. Her playful demeanor disappears, and she quietly goes about packing a chocolate cupcake into a small cardboard box. I should find some satisfaction in knowing I finally got the upper hand, but somehow, it hurts me more to see her in pain.

Bella is just about to ring up our order when Helen grabs Fran’s hand. “Don’t pay yet. Tommy says they have some imported Arabica beans, and I want to try one of them.”

“We have a few. Let me show you.” Instead of walking around, Tommy hops over the counter and leads the ladies to the shelves on the other side.

“Sir, you can come through,” Bella says, looking past me to the gentleman behind me.

He collects his coffee and pays. After he leaves, we just stand there in silence, not even looking at each other. There are no other customers except us, and Helen seems to be asking a billion questions about each brand of coffee beans.

“So, a radio show, huh?” I ask, not just to break the awkward quietness, but because I want to make mention of her achievement. I push my feelings of animosity aside and give her the credit she deserves. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she responds softly. “It’s an amazing opportunity. Who would’ve thought airing all my secrets and embarrassing myself in front of total strangers could reap such rewards?”

“Maybe you have to look at the silver lining and believe the ends justify the means. This job is so perfect for you. Music is a part of your...personality. You always used to say you had no direction and knowing this now makes me wonder how this never crossed your mind as a career path before. It makes sense that this job chose you. And I know that you’re gonna get in there, and you’re just gonna be...amazing. I’m so excited for you, and I’m so happy that you and Tom finally found something you can put all your passion into.”

“Of course, you’d say that.” She drops her head to stare at the floor. She’s silent for a moment, and I don’t know what I said to upset her. After a steadying breath, she finally looks up. “I know you’re angry and you’re hurt, and youhateme right now...and yet that was still so sincere. Can you just be an asshole for once? I mean, would it kill you to be nasty or spiteful?”

I shrug off her irritation. “I can be angry and hurt and still want you to succeed in life. And trust me, I’m still pissed about what you did...but I’m very good at compartmentalizing my feelings, and my anger doesn’t overshadow the fact that I want you to be happy...You deserve to be happy.”

“Ugh! That’s so...you.” Shaking her head, she smiles and lets out a heavy sigh, the tension slowly deescalating. “The next time Tommy asks me why I can’t get over you, I’m going to bring up this conversation. It’s definitely one of those moments I’ll bepiningover in the future.” She stresses the word to remind me of what I told her at the bowling alley, and just like that night, she owns her vulnerability instead of viewing it as a weakness. “Shit, when you broke my heart, youbrokeit. It just doesn’t work anymore. The damn thing can’t seem to love anyone else.”

Isabella has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, so despite the pain hidden beneath that statement, she still says in a playful tone. Instead of going down the dark hole of our past and playing the blame game, I decide to keep the conversation light the same way she is.

“I know a good repair guy if you want his number. He’s great at fixing bruised egos, shattered self-esteems, that kind of stuff. I’m sure he could fix that heart of yours right up.”

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