Which, in itself, was refreshed humiliation.
However, Isabella was too exhausted to focus on that. Instead, she focused on their kindness which was a great deal easier to deal with.
Even though her days were mentally and physically strenuous, her nights were spent tossing and turning. She rarely slept and most of the time forgot to eat (probably due to the fact that she wasn’t hungry).
Isabella was running on empty. She knew this but had no clue what to do about it or any time to come up with a solution.
Except when she was tossing and turning but most of that time was spent thinking about Prentice sleeping in his own bed under the same roof not far away and how much she’d like to crawl out of her bed and into his and what she’d like to do with him there. She thought both about the semi-appropriate things, like giving him the affection he surely needed, and the very inappropriate things, like putting her hands and mouth on him.
Likely, this didn’t help her sleeplessness.
She decided not to think about that either.
“Miss Bella,” Sally called, taking Isabella from her thoughts. “When we get home, are you going to teach me how to be ambidextry?”
Isabella started to answer but Jason turned (again) and corrected (again), “Ambidextrous.”
Sally glared at him, losing patience, “Jace! That’s what I said! Am-bee-dex-try!”
Isabella leaned toward the girl, wrapped her hand behind her head, gently pulled her close and kissed her shining hair.
Then she answered, “I’ll do my best.”
And she would, in the few days she was going to remain there.
Sally was gaining strength. She’d broken her right forearm which was in a cast thus Isabella had told her she’d need to learn to be ambidextrous while her arm healed. She’d also had a couple of ribs broken which they’d been told would heal quickly. She’d had a number of deep contusions which were fading.
Other than that, shockingly (and thankfully), she was fine.
Therefore, Isabella reckoned, she’d get Sally settled. This, she decided, would take a day or two (or three). And then she’d get out of Prentice’s hair.
It must be said she didn’t want to be out of Prentice’s thick, dark hair.
In fact, Isabella spent way too much time thinking how much she wanted to run her fingers through it.
Nevertheless, although Prentice had been polite and even grateful for her help, he was just that. Nothing more. His politeness and gratitude were of the distant variety, and not, Isabella guessed, just because he had a lot weighing on his mind.
Which meant it was time for her to go.
At least, she thought (with not a small amount of sadness), this time it wouldn’t be ugly.
Things were settled between her and Prentice, in a way. It was over. They were acquaintances, ex-lovers of both varieties. There was so much water under the bridge, it was a wonder the bridge wasn’t flooded.
Even in the short expanse of time after the drama of their mini-reunion, they’d moved on.
Or, at least, it was clear Prentice had.
Isabella was just pretending. Then again, she was good at it as she should be, she’d had enough practice.
But the good thing was that meant that this time she could stay in touch with the kids from afar and not worry that Prentice was going to blow his stack.
Prentice rolled to a stop in the drive of his house and Isabella watched him as he looked around at the cars parked everywhere.
She bit her lip.
She probably should have told him about the party.
It wasn’t her idea. It was Annie and Debs’s idea.
She’d just cleaned the house and baked the chocolate cake and, maybe, bought all the decorations, blew up the balloons and hid them in her rooms.
He turned in his seat and locked eyes on Isabella, who was sitting behind Jason.
Isabella sucked in breath.
When she returned a week ago, he seemed somewhat angry and definitely impatient. This had gone away.
She could easily read annoyance and impatience in his eyes now.
Annie and Debs had talked Isabella into the party, insisting it was a fabulous idea the latter who, during their planning session the day before, had shown absolutely no ill-will to Isabella and was again treating her like the sister she always wanted but never had, a change in attitude that Isabella was also too exhausted to process.
Looking at Prentice, Isabella felt maybe they were wrong.
“Um…” she started hesitantly and he shook his head.
Then he turned away and got out of the SUV.
Isabella scrambled out and saw that Jason was looking around, eyeing the cars, a smirk on his mouth. Prentice unbuckled Sally and carried her in his arms as Jason hurried forward to open the door. Isabella, ever the coward, trailed behind.
So far behind, she heard the congregation inside shouting, “Surprise!” but she didn’t see it. It took her a couple of seconds before she entered behind Prentice and his family.
In the great room were Annie and Dougal, Fergus, Dougal’s parents, Prentice’s parents, Fiona’s parents, Debs, her husband and two kids, Morag, her husband and two kids and Mrs. Kilbride. The great room was festooned with pink and white streamers, bunches of pink and white balloons were fastened here and there and there was a big banner hanging on the stairs that read, “Welcome home Sally!”
There were trays groaning with food all over the bar-slash-counter that delineated the kitchen from the great room. The pièce-de-résistance, Isabella’s chocolate cake on a high cake stand Isabella had unearthed, the chocolate frosting decorated with swirls of pink and white icing, sat right smack in the middle of the culinary extravaganza.
But it was worse.
Annie was holding a little, adorable, squirming black kitty with a pink and white bow around its neck.
Isabella stopped next to Prentice, spied the cat and mumbled, “Oh dear.”
Sally’s eyes honed right in on the feline.
“Kitty!” she shrieked with pure joy.
“Oh dear,” Isabella repeated.
Prentice put Sally on her feet as Annie came forward with the cat. Then his gaze cut to Isabella.
At the look in his eyes, Isabella went directly on the defensive. “I didn’t know anything about the cat. I swear.”
He straightened and turned to her. “The party?”
Isabella bit her lip but decided it best not to answer.
“The cake?” he went on.
Isabella hugged her middle and cupped her elbows with her hands. She’d snuck down to the kitchen in the wee hours of the night to make the cake on the sly.
She didn’t explain this. Instead, again, she decided not to answer.