Page 12 of Velvet Varnish
“Seeing Isla today? I thought she’d just done your nails.”
I flex my left hand with flames on the nails, her phantom touch caressing me. “She did.”
Lily grins at me. “Did you finally tell her how you feel?”
My hand reaches for the food slowly, and the brown bag crinkles under my tight hold. “What do you mean?”
“Are you seeing her this morning? Have you professed your love?”
“There was an incident at the bar last night and I took her home to watch her.”
Her teasing grin drops. “Is she okay? What happened?”
“She’s all right. Just shaken.” I cough to clear my throat. “What do you mean, have I told her?” Does everyone but Isla know about my feelings? I didn’t think I was obvious. Barely see her except for our monthly appointment. The bar doesn’t count. I don’t always have time to talk to her.
Lily shifts on her feet. “I thought you finally told her everything.” She gestures at the coffee and tucks her arms together.
“I didn’t realise anyone knew…about it.”
“Dom, all you do is stare at her.”
I frown. Do I? I’m always aware of where she is, always know when she’s in the bar or walking into her shop, but hadn’t realised how obvious I was. I take the coffee tray and turn towards the door. I don’t make it three steps before I spin around and ask, “Does she know?”
Lily bites her cheek and shakes her head. “All I know is that she always asks what you’ve bought recently and if you’ve changed your coffee order. She makes sure she buys what you like on the days she sees you.”
I blink at Lily. Is that something friends do, or something you do when you’re interested in someone? Or is it because Isla’s thoughtful and wants to make me comfortable?
“Be honest with her. I think you’ll be surprised at the answer.”
I pause at Lily’s words, but by the time I have an answer, she’s disappeared and left me with her words in the middle of the coffee shop, trying to figure out what to say to Isla when I get home. Should I be honest with her? If Lily’s wrong, I could lose Isla as a friend, but if Lily’s right… Then I could have everything I’ve dreamed about for the last few years.
I could have Isla.
We could live together, and mix our books on the shelves, and I could hug her, and touch her, and kiss her. My breath comes faster as I start the car towards home. To Isla.
If I’m wrong, I could lose her, but if I risk it and I’m right… That outweighs the unknown. The possibility of seeing her every day.
I drive home slowly, conscious that if I let myself, I’d be rushing home and driving recklessly.
Need to know if she wants me too. Last night when she was on top of me fulfilled a longtime desire, her sweet lips pressed against mine. But when she’d gone to take off her blouse, I’d seen the gauze covering her hand. I couldn’t take advantage of her after the night she had. It wouldn’t be fair. She needed rest, and I didn’t want her in pain the first time we did anything. Isla deserves more.
I fumbled my words, but if it goes to plan, I’ll explain everything this morning. My stomach clenches at the thought of finally revealing my feelings to her. The reason I continue to show up at her nail salon, read the books she recommends, and why I make sure her table at the bar is given priority.
I jolt the car into park, gather the goods, and stride up the stairs. Want to speak to her as soon as possible. My steps slow to unlock the door. What if she isn’t awake yet? I can wait. Her coffee’s iced anyway. I’ll put it in the fridge and she can drink it when she wakes up.
The lounge is quiet, exactly as I left it, her shelf of books untouched except for the empty space where her favourite usually sits. The kitchen is quiet too as I put the food away. I sip my coffee, barely tasting it. I glance towards my room. Maybe I should check on her. To make sure she’s okay and finds everything she needs. There are fresh towels in the bathroom, but what if she can’t find them?
Sculling the rest of my coffee, I stall myself a few more minutes before I tread lightly to my room. If she’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her.
I nudge the door wider and peer into the dim room. The sheets are back in place, perfectly made as if she never slept in them. I frown. There’s no noise coming from the bathroom and the door’s open. I check anyway, and when I don’t find her,I fight the panic rising in my chest and search through all the rooms.
She’s gone.
Isla left without talking to me. Without letting me explain what happened last night. I collapse on my bed—the bed she slept in—and roll to my side. My eyes latch on the book I gave her and I launch upright. There’s a piece of paper sitting on it. Snatching the paper, I ignore my shaking hands and skim it quickly.
Dom,
Thank you for helping me last night. You made me feel safe after the disaster at the bar.