“Can we talk?”
“Depends.”
I tilt my head, not expecting that answer. “On?”
“Are you going to feed me a bunch of bullshit excuses for why you bailed the other night? I’m not in the mood.”
“It’s not . . .” The urge to explain rests on the tip of my tongue but I realize it won’t matter. She doesn’t need to know why. She needs to understand how I feel. “I’m sorry. That night didn’t exactly go the way I wanted, either. And I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She exhales a rush of breath. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but you should know something about me. I don’t waste time on people who don’t value mine. You can’t keep our date? Fine. Call or text, or don’t make the plans to begin with.”
“My father was in the hospital.”
Her mouth opens as if to argue, but instead nothing comes out. The sharpness in her eyes softens and her hand rests on her neckline.
“That’s why I didn’t call. That and my phone met with an unfortunate water incident. I’m sorry, Cora. I wanted to be there. I feel horrible.”
“Your dad? He’s gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. He’s back home, and I saw him last night. He’s okay. As long as he follows the doctor’s orders.” I shake my head, unsure of how well he’ll listen. “Anyway, there’s no excuse for standing you up. I just—I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you.” She offers me a smile and I hate that it’s reserved.
I shove my hands into my pockets. “I should probably . . .” I lift my chin toward the set and release a ragged breath. I apologized. I set the record straight. Now I need to let her go and get back to work, but there’s still something so unsatisfying about walking away from this woman.
“Isaac.” Her hand comes out to stop me, resting gently on my arm. “If you need anything, if I can help, let me know. Even if it’s just to listen.” Her kindness astounds me. Catches me off guard and sweeps my expectations right off the ground. I stood her up, and here she is offering support.
The stress of these past two days unfurls in my chest and I realize just how much I’ve been internalizing everything. Fear of losing my father. Worry for fucking things up with her. Constant anxiety over my son.
Should I let her in? I was burned so badly by David’s mom, but Cora is nothing like Emily. She’s been upfront, honest, and her beauty extends far beyond her flawless skin. “Actually, yes. There is one thing.” God, it’s almost too selfish to ask. But I have to. If I’m going to let Cora in, I need her to know what that entails. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
She raises her brow and gives me a look that says nice try, buddy, but the last attempt didn’t end well for either of us.
“At my apartment this time.” It’s the easiest way to tell her about my son. I won’t be able to chicken out, or be tempted to ditch hard conversations for sexy times.
Her gaze flicks across to something over my shoulder. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Shit. She’s probably uneasy about coming to my place. We’re practically strangers. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that? If you’d rather meet somewhere public?”
“I’m not scared to be alone with you, Isaac.” She laughs, her lips spreading wide with the same smile that produces blockbuster movies. “I don’t want whatever we do off the clock to affect our work here in the studio.” She shrugs her shoulders, humor still present in her expression. “But if you can handle keeping those things separate . . .” Her brows lift in challenge. For at least the millionth time since I laid eyes on Cora I wonder what the hell she sees in me. Or how I got so damn lucky.
“I can do that.”
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word on a breath. Indecision plays out in her eyes. She wants me, but she’s being careful. As she should. If only she knew what awaits her, she’d realize she’s worrying about the wrong thing. Or maybe she’d bolt? I can’t imagine she’s up for the baggage that comes with being a part of my life. Still, there’s part of me that hopes she might. I owe it to my own happiness to give her a chance. She deserves to know why I’ve been so distant, and the right to walk away if it’s too much.
“Then will you come to my apartment? For dinner.” I can’t contain the optimism in my voice.
She purses her lips, pouty and full, and narrows her gaze. “Yeah. I will.”
My lips pull wide of their own accord. I don’t know if I’m more ecstatic over the fact she trusts me, or that she’s coming over tonight. Either way it’s a win.
“But if I show up and there’s no food, I’m walking out.” She points a finger at my chest and steps back.
Happiness takes over my mind and I can’t stop grinning. “Enchiladas. That okay with you?”
She groans, her smile still in place. “Um, yeah, sounds amazing.”
“Cool.” Cool? What has this woman done to me? I have zero game. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I better get back.” Her smile’s as wide as mine as she takes another step away. “I need to run through my lines before they need me on set.”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“Until then, Isaac.” She turns, head down and footsteps light, to walk away.
I’d like to say I’m a gentleman, that I don’t stand there and watch her hips sway until she’s out of view, but I’m not. I’m addicted to everything about her. Her smile. Her laugh. Damn, she’s gorgeous. I want to be the type of man she deserves. My mom’s enchilada recipe has been known to work a little magic, and I’m gonna pull out all the stops.
Eighteen
Cora
I half expect him to cancel, but at the end of my workday there’s a text waiting with Isaac’s address. I refuse to put forth all the effort I did the other night, and besides, this is dinner at his home. Dressed in a pair of jeans, a soft cotton V-neck, and a pair of sandals, at least I’ll be comfortable. Nerves along with anticipation flutter in my gut, but I refuse to get my hopes up—at least until I step foot in his place.
Following the directions on my GPS, I head toward a part of Los Angeles I’ve never been. The homes here are smaller, older, and some of the properties poorly maintained. This isn’t the flashy, wealthy neighborhood where I reside, but I suspected Isaac isn’t a closet millionaire. It’s not as if that’s why I want him. Besides, I’m familiar with how the other half lives. It’s how I grew up.
The address directs me to an apartment complex and I scan the building’s numbers until I find his door. My Hummer is obnoxious and huge parked in this space, but I can’t change what I drive any easier than he can change where he lives.
I take the stairs up to his apartment, knock on the door, and exhale my building nerves. I try not to play with my hands or bite the inside of my cheek. This is just dinner. No pressure. No expectations.
The door opens a few seconds later and Isaac leans against the frame, his body filling the space. “Hey.” His eyes crinkle, his smile shy as he meets my gaze. “You came.”