Page 55 of A Perfect Fit

I take off my suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “My driver will be here soon.”

Isabelle pulls my jacket closer to her. “Your jacket smells so nice. I want to keep it.”

“Then it’s yours to keep, baby,” I whisper.

Isabelle’s face relaxes, and she bites her bottom lip, drawing my attention to it.

I’m instantly reminded that tasting her lips for only a few seconds tonight wasn’t enough. The urge to kiss her again crashes against me, but I shove the temptation away. The last thing I’m going to do is take advantage of her when she’s drunk.

“Isabelle?”

I turn to the sound of the voice, spotting a female passerby on the sidewalk, wearing a blue blouse and pencil skirt, with dark hair and brown eyes that’s similar to Isabelle’s.

“Oh my God, Ivy?” Isabelle calls out. “Is that you?”

“What are you doing here?” Ivy asks, stepping closer to us. Her gaze drifts to me, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And who are you?”

I hesitate, considering how to best answer that question. Friend is probably the most appropriate reply, given we’re no longer at the reunion. “I’m⁠—”

“This is my boyfriend, Jackson,” Isabelle cuts in, looping an arm around mine. “Jackson, this is my sister, Ivy.”

“Your boyfriend?” Ivy crosses her arms. “Really? I think you’re drunk, Isabelle.”

My eyes narrow. What is her problem? First Oliver, and now Ivy. Ivy’s tone and the way she’s talking to Isabelle—it’s condescending and disdainful, and it doesn’t sit well with me one bit.

I reach for Isabelle’s hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m very grateful and proud to call Isabelle my girlfriend.”

Maybe I shouldn’t play along. There’s no way Isabelle would tell her sister that I was her boyfriend if she were sober, and she’ll probably regret this tomorrow morning.

But fuck it. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Isabelle turns to me with a smug look on her face, and it’s the most adorable sight ever.

“My boyfriend’s way hotter than Ben, right?” she adds, facing Ivy again. “And probably smarter, too. Guess I finally beat you at something.”

The way she says those last seven words causes a hollow feeling in my chest. It sounds like she’s joking, but I know she’s not. Suddenly, as I stare at the woman beside me, I realize that she’s witty, sassy, and passionate on the outside, but there are so many more layers to her than that.

Ivy scowls. “I have no time for this, Isabelle. You should get home.”

“Bye, sis,” Isabelle says, waving at her sister as Ivy walks off.

Moments later, Tony pulls up to the curb, his car window rolled down. “Good evening, Jackson.”

“Hey, Tony.” I turn to Isabelle. “Bella, this is my driver, Tony.”

“Hi, Tony!” Isabelle waves excitedly at him, flashing a bright smile. “Nice to meet you!”

Tony smiles politely at her. “Good evening, miss.”

I open the car door to the back seat, helping Isabelle as she climbs inside.

She gives me a side-eyed look. “I can get inside fine. I’m not that drunk.”

“That’s exactly what a drunk person would say,” I say, getting inside after her and shutting the door.

“You’re so annoying,” she mutters. “Jackass. You’re the biggest jackass in the world. Jackson ‘the Jackass’ Carter.”

“Thank you,” I sarcastically say, buckling her seat belt and then my own.