“Iz, I’m sorry.” I sit up, too, dragging a hand through my hair. “It was a joke. A dumb one, I’ll admit that.” I put a hand on her arm and feel she’s trembling. “I know we’re not getting married, okay? You’ve made it clear you’re not here long-term.”
Maybe my heart hasn’t gotten the message, but the rest of me has. I know this thing between Iz and me can’t go anywhere, and I accept that.
I’m trying to accept it.
She bites her lip and holds my gaze. “I care about you a lot, Bradley. So much.”
“And I care about you.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. “Our time together—it’s been amazing. And this, what happened between us just now—” Color floods her face again, but she doesn’t drop eye contact. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing. But my time here is ending soon, and I don’t want it to hurt too much.”
“It’s okay, Izzy.” I cover her hand with mine, not sure if she means her or me. Which of us is more likely to get hurt? “I understand you can’t stay. I’m happy with the limited time I’ll have with you.”
It’s not a lie, but also not the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway.
“Good,” Izzy says softly. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“We are.”
We’re not. Because if we were, my heart wouldn’t tick up to tachycardic rhythms, rattling my ribs as Iz pulls me in for a slow kiss. My head wouldn’t swim as my whole body moves toward her like we’re drawn by magnets.
It’s then that I know for sure a finite time with Izzy isn’t enough.
It could never be enough.
Chapter 11
Isabella
I swear I’m not avoiding Bradley over the next several days. I’m simply swamped with wedding-related tasks and medical appointments.
There’s an overnight trip to Portland for checkups with my nephrologist and transplant team. Apparently, all this stress requires an adjustment in my medications, though I refrain from sharing this with the family.
There’s also a rehearsal dinner catered by Sean, a six-course meal featuring dozens of delicacies that have me piling my plate with more bruschetta and chicken cordon bleu than any human ought to eat.
Then there’s the last-minute dress fitting where I discover I may have eaten a bit too much bruschetta.
“You’re sure it’s not too much trouble to let out the seams?” I bite my lip as the dressmaker—a lovely woman I’ve only just discovered is a Bracelyn cousin—adjusts a pin at my hem.
“Relax, girlfriend.” Valerie smiles and plucks another pin from her magnetic bowl. “I’ve got you.”
Girlfriend. I like that. Love it, actually, the thought that I’ve built these close but casual relationships with people connected to me by both blood and community. The thought of leaving them soon is almost too much to bear.
“Hey.” Lily sidles up to me and flashes her Cheshire cat smile as Val moves away to pin someone else’s dress. “You sure you’re not knocked up?”
“What?” Heat floods my face as I translate the colloquial phrase. “No! Of course I’m not—Lily.”
“Hmm?” Her eyes flash wide and innocent, but there’s nothing innocent about my sister-in-law. It’s my favorite thing about her. “I mean, it’s always a possibility,” she murmurs so no one else can hear. “Birth control can fail.”
She’s baiting me, of course. Waiting for me to insist I couldn’t possibly be pregnant because I haven’t had sex.
But the big, silly grin spreading over my face wipes that defense off the board. “I suppose anything’s possible.” I fight to fix my expression into something more Lily-like and less kid-with-a-popsicle giddy. “But doctors do tend to be keenly aware of the need to take precautions.”
“Get it, girl.” Lily beams and holds up a hand, which I obligingly smack. “I ran into Bradley at the coffee shop, and he never stopped grinning. Not even when the barista spilled coffee down the front of his pants. I took that as a sign things had moved to the next level for you two.”
“Oh, well—”
“Way to go, Iz.” Lily wraps an arm around me and gives me a tight squeeze. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I’m unaccustomed to accepting praise for sexual conquests, but it’s a nice change of pace from being fawned over for my ball gowns. “I’m enjoying myself.”
“Good for you.” She cocks her head, studying me. “Any chance you’ll change your plans and stick around?”
A cold drip of guilt slithers down my spine, and I fight to keep my face from falling. “Afraid not,” I tell her. “But with luck, I’ll come back and visit.”
I don’t tell her how different things will be. I don’t have a glass ball, but it’s certain my whole life will change in just a few weeks’ time.
“I sure love having you here,” Lily says. “We all do. It’s like you’ve always been part of the family.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them back. There’s a buzzing somewhere behind me and it takes a moment to realize it’s my phone. “Pardon me,” I say. “It’s probably my mother.”
I grab the phone and slip out the door into the hallway, careful to keep my dress from brushing against the rough plank walls. The readout on my screen is from a number I don’t recognize, and I hesitate before answering.
“Hello?”
“Isabella! I have some good news.”
Kathryn Parker’s cheer ripples down the phone line, and I’m instantly reminded how much I love her son’s smile. I’m so distracted by the memory of it that I almost miss what she’s just said.
“Good news,” I repeat, already grateful for it. “Is it about Kevin?”
“Congratulations,” she says. “You’ve been approved as a secondary foster.”
Relief, mixed with sadness, swishes through my veins. “That’s wonderful. Do they—are they aware I won’t be around much longer?”
“Of course. That’s the point of a foster like this. A chance to socialize the animal in multiple environments to give it the best chance of thriving in a forever home.”
“Wonderful.” I know I have no right to feel sad at the thought of Kevin having a forever home with someone else. It’s the way things have to be, so I push back my sadness. “When shall I come get him?”
“Hang on.” Her voice goes muffled, and I recognize the male voice in the background. My heart speeds up as Bradley comes on the line.
“Hey, Izzy,” he says. “Congratulations. Want me to bring Kevin over tonight?”
I should say no. I should keep a careful space between us and insist one of my brothers will bring me out later with a pickup truck suitable for transporting swine.
But my heart gives my voice box a different message than my brain would. “I’d love that,” I hear myself saying. “I can make dinner.”
“For me or for Kevin?”
“For both of you, of course. It’s the least I can do.”