Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(66)
Author: Kristen Ashley

And Fiona knew those words were some of very few good ones in any of those books.

It was then Fiona decided Sally and Jason were meant to exist in part to heal Bella.

And, as crazy as it sounded, Fiona was proud to have had a hand in that.

When Bella finished, she left her rooms to shut down the house.

All except the light outside, the light in the vestibule and a lamp in the great room.

Then she paced while Fiona trailed behind her. The longer she paced; the more cross she became.

And the more hilarious Fiona found it.

Fiona felt Prentice’s presence first.

She dashed in front of Bella so she could watch her face when she realized he was home.

Bella heard the 4×4; she stopped pacing and glared at the door.

Fiona couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

The door opened.

Bella tensed.

Fiona popped back into her tent by the ever-blossoming apple tree.

“Bloody hell!” she shouted at its silk walls.

* * * * *

Isabella

Isabella didn’t think she’d ever been that angry.

He’d taken her suitcases. And her passport.

It had to be him. Who else could it be? They hadn’t disappeared into thin air!

And why? Why had he taken them?

It was mad. Utterly insane.

She had to go, for his own good, even for the children’s!

Especially after last night.

No, she couldn’t think about last night. She just couldn’t let last night happen again.

Ever.

She just had to get… out… of… there!

Not for herself, but for him.

Her father, who was a jerk, who both she and Prentice knew would always be doing jerky things that would drive Prentice up the wall.

And Jason and Sally would witness it. Heck, they already had! They could even be caught up in it (her father didn’t hesitate with his venom, no matter what your age, that Isabella knew all too well). And this was something which didn’t bear thinking about.

And the photographers, who were annoying, who both she and Prentice knew would always be hounding her and now him and the children. And Prentice would hate that then begin to hate her for bringing that in their lives.

And she was…

She was…

Weak.

Not like Fiona, who was good and talented and funny and loving and strong and confident enough to use bold colors while decorating her house.

Isabella was weak.

And, whatever was in his mind now (and something was definitely in his mind, Isabella just didn’t understand it), Prentice would begin to hate that too.

She had to get out of there. For his own good.

Didn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he see? Why was he keeping her there? Why was he doing this? Why wouldn’t he just let her go?

It was exceedingly exasperating.

She heard the SUV and her eyes turned to the door.

She was going to let him have it the moment he walked in.

She’d practiced her whole speech. Heaven knew, she had enough time waiting for him. And her speech was perfect.

The door opened, Prentice entered and every practiced word flew from her mind.

He walked into his home casually, because he did it every day (so of course it would be casually).

But there was something about watching him coming home after work that hit Isabella in a strange way. It wasn’t unpleasant, not in the slightest.

And he looked good.

Wearing a tan-colored, all-weather canvas jacket that was worn in enough to look good and fit him well, but not worn out, a deep blue button-up shirt, a pair of jeans that were also worn enough to fit (too well) but not worn out and boots.

He was the kind of man who made any clothing look good (too good) and Isabella noted this fact with inappropriate fascination at that juncture, since she should have been giving him what for.

She also noted that his hair was slightly disheveled, probably from the wind outside.

That looked good on him too (too good).

She watched mutely as he secured the door and turned out the lights.

Then she noticed as he walked through the vestibule and into the great room that his eyes were on her.

Her mind kicked into gear.

“Prentice, we have to talk,” she announced as he got close.

Too close.

Toe-to-toe with her, right in her space.

She decided to hold her ground so as not to appear weak.

This was the wrong decision.

Ignoring her announcement, his head started to come toward hers, his eyes on her mouth.

She contradicted her earlier decision and decided it was time to retreat. She leaned away and started to take a step back but, quick as a flash, he had a hand at her hip and his other was cupping the back of her head. He held her steady while his mouth descended to hers and he kissed her.

Hard, thorough, deep but not long.

He lifted his head and looked in her eyes.

The kiss was nice. Too nice.

“Did you save me some sponge?” he asked softly.

Her mind was adrift, still reeling from his kiss.

Sponge? What was he talking about?

“Wh… what?” she stammered, her focus on getting her heart to stop beating so fast and uncurling her toes.

“Sponge. Did you save me some?”

“In the kitchen,” she answered in a breathy voice.

His hands dropped and he moved away. Shrugging off his jacket, he threw it on an armchair and headed to the kitchen.

Stupidly, Isabella watched him.

Then her eyes moved to his jacket.

Really, she should ignore his jacket. It wasn’t harming anything, lying there on the armchair. There were other, more important things to do.

But she couldn’t ignore it. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

She hurried forward, grabbed his jacket and took it into the vestibule. She hung it on the hooks with the other jackets and then used all of her willpower not to run to the kitchen.

She had to be cool, calm, and collected.

She had to concentrate.

She had to get this done.

Now.

Prentice was pressing buttons on the microwave when she arrived in the kitchen.

“Pren –” she started.

“Just a minute,” he cut her off. Turning, he walked with long strides to the stairs and up them.

Isabella stood in the kitchen, listening to the microwave whirring, staring blankly at the stairs.

She did this for awhile. She did it until Prentice walked back down at the exact same time the microwave dinged.

He went directly to the refrigerator.

“Pren –” she began again.

He interrupted her by asking the inside of the refrigerator, “I see the kids are asleep. Were they okay tonight?”

“Yes,” Isabella answered quickly. “Now –”