Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(40)

She did as she was told.

He hugged her again at the door and then looked her in the eyes.

“You should tell him, you know. Everything.”

It’s too late, way too late, she thought.

But she said nothing.

Mikey gave her a look before he sighed, kissed her temple and walked out the door.

Isabella went back into the great room and stood motionless, waiting for Prentice to return. It felt like years but was more likely five minutes when she saw him walk down the stairs.

He stopped four feet away from her, his beautiful, every-colored eyes locked on her, his face closed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he replied.

“I’m still sorry,” she pushed.

He gave a jerk of his chin but said nothing else.

“Is he okay?” Isabella asked.

“He will be,” Prentice answered.

Isabella slowly closed her eyes.

Then she opened them and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

Prentice didn’t reply.

Isabella squared her shoulders and licked her lips, waiting for him to say something.

He said nothing. In fact, he looked like he was waiting for her to say something.

She pulled in a deep breath. Then she let it go.

Then she said something.

“I’ll just… head to bed,” she told him.

He didn’t say a word.

She turned to the hall.

“Fifteen months,” Prentice said.

She turned back to Prentice.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“Fifteen months we were together and you didn’t say a f**king word. We spent every minute we could together when you were here and when you weren’t we spent every minute we could talking and you didn’t say a f**king word.” Isabella felt her heart start beating faster but Prentice wasn’t finished. “Did you give a f**k about me at all?”

Bile started climbing up her throat, she ignored it, clenched her hands in fists and simply replied, “Prentice.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You didn’t. If you did, you would have f**king shared your life with me. At least part of it. You didn’t share f**k all. I was in love with you, I asked you to marry me, for f**k’s sake, and I didn’t even know you.”

Her heart stopped beating faster and started slamming against her chest, her nails tore fiercely into her palms and her eyes flew to the stairs.

“Prentice, the children,” she warned.

“Tell me now,” he demanded.

Her eyes jerked to him and her heart stopped.

“What?” she breathed.

“All of it, Isabella. Tell me now.”

“But… why?” she stammered.

He leaned forward at the waist and clipped, “God damn it, tell me now.”

Isabella could take no more.

“Why?” she snapped, throwing her unclenched hand through the air. “What does it matter now?”

But he wasn’t paying attention to her. His eyes had followed her hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered, anger out of his voice, gaze still on her hand. “You’re bleeding.”

She quickly looked at her palm, saw he was right and closed her hand into a fist. As she did this, he advanced so he was close.

Very close.

She tipped her head back to look at him and declared, “It’s nothing.”

His head was bent toward her hand, his fingers closed on her wrist and he said, “Elle, you’re bleeding. Let me look.”

Isabella blinked, feeling the name only he used wash over her like she hadn’t had a bath in decades and that name was warm, clean water.

“Open your hand,” he ordered, his thumb insistently pressing on her fingers, he looked distractedly over his shoulder to the kitchen and asked, “Did you break a glass washing up?”

“It’s nothing,” she repeated.

His head came back around and he lifted her hand between them, thumb unrelenting, trying to open her closed fist.

“Let me see,” he murmured coaxingly.

Panic stricken, she jerked her wrist and he lost hold. When he did, his eyes snapped to hers.

“I said, it’s nothing,” she whispered.

Prentice stared at her.

Isabella took a step back, holding her wrist where his hand was, feeling his warm strength still there. Memorizing it, she pressed her hand against her chest.

His eyes dropped to her hand. Then they went back to hers.

And they were cold. So cold, she shivered.

“Secrets,” he said softly, his voice awful. “Which is the same as lies. Secrets and f**king lies.”

She held his gaze, it cost her but she held it and didn’t breathe a word.

After long moments, Prentice looked to the floor and shook his head.

Then he turned away and asked, “Turn the lights out, will you?”

Then he walked up the stairs and disappeared from sight.

Chapter Seven

Elle

Prentice

Prentice stood on the terrace of the pub, whisky in hand, eyes on the sea.

Two days it had been since he’d discovered Isabella had not abandoned her best friend in her hour of need but, against the odds (and Annie could be stubborn so Prentice knew the odds were most assuredly against Isabella), she nursed Annie back to her old self.