Isabella
The N train leaves me three blocks away from Harry's apartment. Three blocks should be enough time to calm down and turn back around to head home. Maybe even to Cornelia since I'd have peace and quiet to take a nap or read or sit in the bath until I'm all pruney.
I've never been good at talking myself off the ledge. Kat is usually the one to knock some sense into me and help me see past my anxieties and self doubt. And for a really long time I used substances to forget how I was really feeling. But now Kat's out of town for Thanksgiving and I'm sober and this charity gala is tomorrow.
Most 'high profile' women that are planning on attending tomorrow are probably all in spas so their complexion is perfect or having their final fittings for their gowns. Not panicking on the streets of New York making a mad dash for a man's apartment. And yet here I am, unable to make my legs move any faster and feeling my lungs burn.
The closer I get to Harry's building, the more my anxiety grows. By the time I walk through the doors and say hi to his doorman, I'm damn near close to having a full blown panic attack. The elevator ride up to his floor seems longer than normal, dragging on as I pick at the skin around my nails. They're raw and have been bleeding on and off all day with how much I've been picking.
When the elevator doors open to his apartment, this feeling of regret and embarrassment grows in my chest. Why the fuck did I come here?
Before I can even just go back downstairs and pretend this never happened, Harry sees me. With furrowed brows, he walks over and I reluctantly step out of the elevator before the door can close.
"Isabella. Is everything okay? I didn't know you were coming."
"I... I'm fine. I should go." I turn to press the elevator button but he reaches forward and takes my hand carefully.
"You can talk to me. It's okay, Ottie's not here. Come sit." He's gentle as he speaks, clearly sensing my panic.
I let him guide me further into the apartment and sit me down on the couch, resuming my obsessive skin picking. This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have come.
"Isabella. Is everything okay?" He asks again as he sits down on the coffee table across from me, reaching forward to stop my hands from picking.
I look at him finally, feeling myself completely fall apart. "I can't do this." My voice is barely above a whisper as tears fill my eyes.
His gaze softens, his bottom lip pouting out ever so slightly at the sight of my tears. "Do what?"
"This. All of this. I don't belong in this world, I don't deserve this. Just take all the money back and everything. I just can't..."
"Where is this coming from? Of course you deserve this."
"No, I don't-"
"Isabella." He cuts me off, his voice stern but at the same time so caring. "If you're dead serious about ending this, I understand. But I don't want you to make a decision like this if you're gonna regret it. Last night you were fine, did something happen?"
My tears start to spill over as his thumbs gently caress my knuckles. "Nothing happened, I just don't deserve this and you need to take it all back. It was very kind but this just isn't my world."
He nods, not letting go of my hands. "Can we talk this through? I just want to know where your head is. I don't like seeing you like this." When I finally nod, he sits back and lets go of me. "Okay. Did I do something or say something? Is it about the gala tomorrow, because you know you don't have to go if you don't want to."
Just the mention of the gala brings about more tears. "I just don't belong here, Harry. This is your world, you're the rich and famous CEO. You know, maybe Christian will give me my job back-"
"Christian? Has he said anything to you?" He looks alarmed at the mention of my ex.
"No. I haven't seen him in months but that's my world. The clubs and Chris. I'm not someone who wears Gucci and walks red carpets."
"Can I ask why? Why do you think you're not someone who can do those things?"
"Because... Because I'm just not. I'm an addict, I'm a stripper. I'm sleeping with you for money. I don't deserve to be at that event, I'm an imposter."
"You're not an addict, Isabella. You're sober. You have been for years. And even if you fell off the wagon, being an addict doesn't make you unworthy of anything. And you're not a stripper, Isabella. Sure, you worked at strip clubs, but you're more than just your body. You are so intelligent, talented, and funny. You're kind and have the most generous heart. I understand feeling like you're an imposter, I've felt that more times that I can even remember at this point. But you are worthy and I'd love to have you there with me tomorrow."
He places his hands on my knees, rubbing them gently in an attempt to calm me down. "You know, if we were bringing morality into the idea of who's allowed to go where, a lot of the people attending the gala wouldn't be allowed to go. Important people. Probably even some of the people they're honoring. All kinds of addicts and men who have affairs and who only care about profits and not the poor. You are fine, Isabella. Nobody is going to say anything to you, nothing bad."
I try my best to wipe away my tears before they can run down my cheeks but some manage to slip through. I hate crying in front of people. I hate being vulnerable. Being vulnerable is what got me into a seven year relationship with Christian. I hate being seen as weak.
"I'm sorry."
"For what? It's okay to be nervous. You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling and I'll be here to listen. There's no reason to apologize." To my surprise he leans forward, pressing a comforting kiss to my forehead. "I'm gonna get you some water, okay?"
I just nod, feeling so embarrassed that I even came here to freak out in the first place. He shouldn't have to deal with my problems. He doesn't pay me to show up unannounced to cry on his couch.
He comes back with a glass of water for me, passing it as he sits back down on his coffee table. "So, what do you want to do? If you don't want to go tomorrow, then you don't have to go. And if you want this arrangement to be over, then we can do that too. Though, I'm not taking the money back, that's yours."
He tucks my hair behind my ear as I take a sip of water. I just shrug, looking down at the glass. "I don't know."
"Do you wanna go rest and take a nap? You can take my bedroom and change into something comfortable, it's okay. Sleep on it and then let me know."
I just nod, figuring taking a quick nap might be good for me. He walks with me to his room and gets me a shirt of his to change into. "I'll be here if you need me okay?" He leans in the doorway, giving me a small yet reassuring smile.
"Okay."
When I wake up, it's dark outside. It startles me at first, especially since I didn't plan on sleeping for that long. Then again, last night I got maybe two hours of sleep so I guess I was tired.
Once I've come more to my senses, I realize two things. One, that the house smells heavenly. Two, that Harry is talking to someone. That could only mean one thing. Ottie's here.
Instead of going outside and exposing myself and in turn Harry, I grab my phone. Ignoring all my missed texts from Kat and Brynn, I open my messages with Harry.
What should I do?
We agreed to keep Ottie away from this, but that's kind of hard to do when I'm in her house. Harry should've woken me up and kicked me out when he knew she was coming home.
I can hear him walking toward the room after a while, and soon enough the door opens. He slips through and closes the door behind him, turning on a lamp as he approaches the bed. "Sleep well?"
"I guess. You should've woken me up."
"You were tired so I let you rest. I checked in on you a couple hours ago and you were out. I made dinner, if you're hungry."
"Isn't Ottilie here?"
"She is. If you want to get home I could package it up for you. But you could stay and eat, we'll just tell her I invited you over for dinner as a surprise for her or something."
A part of me knows that I should be firm with our contract. Ottilie is supposed to be unaware of what we have going on. And yet, here I am actually thinking about staying. The food does smell amazing and I'm already here...
"Okay... If you're sure." He's the one that didn't want Ottilie involved. He's her father, I don't want to intrude on his wishes.
"I'm sure. Just get dressed and I'll distract her in her room and you can pretend you just got here." He smiles at me before getting up and leaving the room.
It takes me a second to really make sure that this isn't just some weird hyper realistic dream before I start getting dressed again. Sure enough when I peek out of the room, I can hear Harry and Ottilie behind the closed door across the hall. Quietly, I go toward the elevator, sneaking a text to him that the coast is clear.
The sound of little feet running through the halls brings a small smile to my face. Sure enough, Ottilie runs over to the elevator with a gasp before hugging my legs tight.
"Miss Isabella!" She squeals in excitement as she looks up at me.
"Hi Ottie! Your dad invited me for dinner, is that okay?"
"Yes!" She grabs my hand and leads me further into her home, completely unaware that I've been here for hours now. Harry meets my eye with a playful smirk, clearly glad we were able to get over on his three year old.
"Thank you for joining us, Miss Isabella."
"Thank you for having me, Mr. Styles." He always likes when I call him that.
Ottilie steals me away to show me around while Harry finishes dinner and sets the table. It's weird being in the apartment with her and seeing her interact in the space. If anything I'm really glad Harry and I have a different place to go because this is Ottie's home. I don't want to intrude on her home, even if he says it's okay.
As she shows me her stuffed animals and dolls, she asks me a million questions. Mainly about what I did today and if I like playing with her toys. Thankfully I have plenty of experience with kids so I don't have a hard time keeping up with her.
"Miss Isabella, why was tap closed?" She asks as she sits down across from me to play with her dolls.
"Well, there's a holiday this week, Thanksgiving. And a lot of people travel to be with their families during that holiday so we close the dance studio so nobody misses out. But we'll have class next week, I promise."
She looks a bit confused. "What's Thanksgiving?" Right, she's European.
"Thanksgiving is a holiday where families get together for a big dinner and we talk about what we're grateful for. Usually people have turkey and mashed potatoes and there's a big parade with balloons and musicians and people watch football."
I can see in her eyes how the little gears in her head are turning. "Are you going to celebrate Thanksgiving with your family, Miss Isabella?"
Reaching forward, I tuck her hair behind her ear. "No, Ottie."
She pouts slightly, "Do you not like turkey?"
I can't help but smile at her innocent little mind. "Oh I love turkey. And all the different kinds of pies. But I have an event tomorrow so I'm gonna go to that. I hope they have turkey."
She giggles, nodding. "I hope too!"
Harry calls us over to eat, so I take Ottie's hand as we stand up and let her lead the way to the dining table. "Can Miss Isabella sit next to me?" She asks as we approach.
"Of course, Otter." He picks her up, helping her into her chair with a kiss to the head. I take the seat next to her and Harry sits down across from us once he's sure everything is on the table.
The food on the plate in front of me looks phenomenal. Of course Harry is a master chef, he probably trained with the best chefs in Paris or something just because he was bored. Then again he has twelve extra years on me, maybe he used them perfecting his recipes.
I can feel his eyes on me and sure enough I meet them as I glance across the table at him. The corner of his lip quirks up in the smallest smile. It's reassuring almost, as if he's saying that this is okay. I offer the same smile to let him know that I'm feeling better.
Ottilie takes over the conversation at dinner, eager to chat my ear off now that she's given the chance. Usually she's super focused on dance, but now she gets to tell me every silly little thought that pops into her head. Harry has to keep reminding her to eat every few minutes.
Harry's legs brush against mine under the table, and it slowly turns into a game of footsie. I can almost see him restraining himself from reaching for my hand over the table like he always does when we go out to eat. But part of the contract is keeping Ottilie out of our arrangement and I'm not even going to go down that rabbit hole. Maybe I should've even said no to joining them for dinner, but it's been so long since I've had a real family meal.
I think Ottie purposely takes extra time to eat, wanting to keep me in her home for as long as possible. Harry doesn't seem to mind too much, watching his daughter talk and talk with the most loving look in his eye.
Toward the end of the meal, I check my phone, sighing when I see the time. "Well, I think I need to head out. I have to be up early to get ready for a party." Harry smiles when I say that, seeming relieved that I'm going to the gala. And honestly I feel good about it.
"Miss Isabella, can this be our Thanksgiving dinner even though there's no turkey?" Ottie asks with the sweetest smile on her face.
It takes everything in me not to just burst into tears at her sweet little sentiment. "You know, yeah. It can be Ottie. Thank you for having me." I hug her, lightly squeezing the sweet little girl. She giggles and hugs back, not even knowing how full she made my heart just now. I can't remember the last time I celebrated Thanksgiving. I can't remember celebrating a lot of holidays.
While Ottie runs to her room to get ready for bathtime, Harry walks me to the elevator. He hands me a tupperware full of leftovers despite me telling him that he didn't need to.
"Thank you for dinner, Harry. It was great."
"Of course, Isabella. You're welcome anytime." He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you about the dad dance. It's a thing we do at the school, there are a couple rehearsals but it's not mandatory, I just figured I'd ask."
"Do you teach the dad dance?"
I nod, "I do. It's honestly really fun." More like funny, since they all look so weird during it.
"Just let me know when I have to go and I'll be there. It's the least I could do, plus Ottie raves about your class and I should see if it's as good as she says."
We both laugh, but as it dies down his smile softens. He brushes his hair back as he leans against the wall by the elevator. "Are you sure you're okay going home? You could take the car or even stay here tonight, I'll take the couch."
I shake my head with a small smile. "No, I have to get up early to start getting ready anyways. But I might just take you up on the car."
"Done. The car is yours tonight. And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I mean it Isabella, I'm always here for you."
His hand comes up to cup my cheek and his thumb brushes against my skin. My eyes search his, though I'm not sure what for. I freeze as he begins to lean in, feeling my heart start to race in my chest.
I look away before he can lean in more and at the same time the elevator door opens. Defeated, his hand drops from my cheek and finds a place in his pocket.
"Have a good night, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow." Quickly, I get into the elevator, ready to pretend those last few seconds never happened.
"Goodnight, Isabella."
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inch resting.
gab