Chapter Thirty-Three
Cassidy
In the interest of giving Luke time with his family, I scoot outside to the hospital’s Zen garden to call Isabelle and tell her I’ll be there in time for the lunch Mikael’s family is hosting.
As usual, she doesn’t answer. Busy bride.
I move on to Berkeley.
“There you are. You didn’t text me back last night,” she says, instead of her usual quippy greetings. “I thought there was another problem. Will said I was overreacting—”
“Will? You talked to Will?”
“What was I supposed to do? You didn’t answer the texts!”
I flip to the texts and read them. “Oh, okay. I did not see these. I’m sorry, Luke and I decided not to come last night because it would’ve been like midnight by the time we made it in.”
“So you just decided not to come? Where did you sleep? I figured you would’ve killed each other by now.”
My skin heats. “We slept in Vegas. Well, we stayed in Vegas. We have a lot to catch up on, Berk. Luke is…important.”
“Important? Like, an undercover celebrity or some shit?”
“No. He’s important to me. I think…” I take a fortifying breath as the branches of an orange tree sway in the breeze. “I know I’m falling for him. The ship has sailed. He’s everything I didn’t know I was missing in my life.”
Silence. Dead silence.
As it stretches on, I think about whether it was wise to tell her now. I should’ve waited until we were together so I could gauge her reaction. Or waited until she met Luke so she could see what I see.
But when you know, you know. And I want to tell her everything. I want to talk about him and invite him into the other areas of my life.
A bottle of wine might have helped grease the hinges of this conversation, though.
Finally, finally, she answers. “I very much look forward to hearing more about this. I’m super happy for you, Blossom. But right now, we have some fish to fry. Your sister is straight up not getting married.”
“What? What do you mean not getting married? Her wedding is in three days.”
“So I’ve heard. Since I got here, I’ve been watching her slowly crumple like a used grocery bag. And I swear she moved important stuff into your mom’s house. ‘Living here’ stuff. So it would be quite nice if you’d kick your cute ass into gear and meet me at this lunch with the family of—what’s his name? Swedish bodybuilder?”
“Mikael. The groom. I should’ve made you a list to memorize.”
“Right. I’ll bring your dress.”
“Okay, I’m coming. Of course I’m coming. I’m at the hospital with Luke’s mom—unexpected procedure of some kind—but I don’t think he needs me. He’s with his sister now. I’ll leave as soon as I check in with him.”
We bid each other a quick goodbye. My stomach turns over as I pace one more lap of the Zen garden.
If I call Isabelle and start probing now while she’s getting ready for this big luncheon, it’ll either piss her off or make her cry.
We need to have a conversation in person. Long overdue.
A conversation we could’ve had last night if I went straight home, to the house Isabelle apparently lives in now.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew, knew, Vegas was a selfish move. But I couldn’t tear myself away from Luke long enough to see things clearly.
And now, my sister is spiraling further.
I have to see her, figure out what’s really going on, and support her however she needs.
But first, I need to pop upstairs, check on Luke, and let him know I’m leaving.