Strings Attached

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Like every other event I had to attend, this one too had turned into another ridiculous fiasco of people trying to collect large amounts of money under the pretense to really give a fuck about the cause. I hated attending social events and fundraisers were right at the top of my least favorite's ones. This one especially, given the fact that the fool Ethan Shaffer managed to ruin the entire night by addressing Isabelle as Cora. That guy hadn't changed a bit since college. Somehow, he always had the magical ability to appear in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time and say the wrong fucking thing.

Tapping my fingers on the desk to keep my nerves at bay, I slowly looked towards Isabelle. The moment my eyes settled on her, the most captivating shade of pink spread over her cheeks. It was so obvious she had been hit by Ethan's remark. The traces of hurt were present on her pretty face and, like always, it did something to me. For heaven's sake. It made me want to pick her up in my arms and tell her she shouldn't worry because I'd make it okay. Little by little, her presence was turning me into someone my father would refer to as a pussy, but surprisingly, I didn't care. If I had to show weakness to be the man she needed me to be, then so be it. She looked at me warily as if she highly doubted I was capable to swallow my pride and it tempted me to prove her wrong.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, accentuating the words that so rarely, if ever crossed my lips. "I should have introduced the two of you immediately, and then he wouldn't have made that wrong assumption."

Regardless of the fact that I had made an effort to make her feel better, she was still trapped in her dark world of despair. She lowered her gaze at the table, like she was ashamed. Looking at her like that was almost unbearable, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. Patiently, I waited for her to say something and after a short while, she finally looked up at me, saying the last thing I needed to hear. "I'm sorry as well. I know you would have been a lot happier if Cora was the one sitting across the table from you right now," she said in a quiet, humble voice.

As the feeling of disappointment surged through me, I trained my eyes on her, swallowing the words I suddenly wanted to shout out. You are the one I want sitting across the table from me. You are the one I want sleeping next to me. You are the one I want! Instead of doing that, I've opted for a more diplomatic version, hoping she would manage to read between the lines.

"You should stop trying to decode what I think or how I feel, because you're doing a very lousy job at it." Never in my entire life, had I uttered something with such determination and I already knew it was too much for her.

Now I was angry with myself because I had probably managed to scare her... again. This is not how I imagined this weekend to go. I hoped I would finally get a chance to gradually show her how I really felt, but ever since we arrived to Las Vegas, things only went from bad to worse and this last incident was just the icing on the cake.

Curious about her reaction, I glanced at her and noticed she was lost in deep thoughts. I've spent the entire evening trying to come up with something to say, but I couldn't think of anything that made sense and I knew that talking could only make it worse, so I wisely chose to keep my mouth shut. Still, I was bothered with the fact that she looked so damn sad. I had finally decided to end the torture for both of us and I told her we were leaving. She looked at me with a mixture of relief and the undertone of worry I had already learned to recognize in her eyes. No matter what I tried to say or do, nothing could ease her fears. Lowering her head to the floor, she was probably already busy imagining what could happen once we arrived in that hotel room. Though it make me feel frustrated, I couldn't blame her. Isabelle had a spectrum of memories to feed her panic and my reassurances were never enough to take them away.