Page 69 of A Perfect Fit

As Isabelle continues reading, I sneak a glance at Anna, who’s eagerly eyeing my interaction with Isabelle. She gives me an encouraging thumbs-up sign. It’s validating, though I’m feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Usually, I have no trouble talking to women and flirting with them, but with Isabelle, it’s as if all of that’s gone out the window.

I’m realizing I have no rules, strategy, or playbook when it comes to her. Despite us competing with each other and tossing insults at one another back in school, the truth is … Isabelle Curtis-Wong has always had an immense power over me. For better or worse.

“You feeling all good for tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Isabelle chews her bottom lip, and I block out all the thoughts that invade my mind that involve her lips and the way they felt against mine. “I’m excited.”

I clear my throat. “I have to finish off some work before our flight, but text me if you need anything before then. Don’t miss me too much when I’m gone.”

She responds in a jocular tone, “Don’t count on it.”

It’s almost as if my body is refusing to leave even though I’ll be seeing Isabelle again in two hours. But I force myself to drag my feet and head for the exit, saying goodbye to Anna and Lucy—who’s now reentered the coffee shop.

Later in the morning, I’m reviewing a client brief at my office when my phone dings with a new text.

Unknown

Hey, it’s me, Isabelle. I’m heading home now to finish packing

I’m grinning like I’ve won the lottery, feeling like a high schooler who’s just been noticed by their crush. I swivel around in my office chair and save Isabelle’s number into my phone before replying.

Me

I’ll pick you up at one. If you need more time to finish packing, let me know.

Isabelle responds moments later.

Bella

Don’t worry. I’ll be done long before then

By one p.m., Isabelle has not finished packing.

I’m not surprised.

When I call her from outside her apartment building, she tells me she only needs five more minutes, conviction underlining her tone.

“When you say five, should I double it and multiply that by ten?” I ask.

Even without seeing her, I can picture a scowl forming on her lips.

“Just wait inside your car,” she says. “I’ll come down when I’m done.”

“Nope. I’m coming up.”

I walk to the intercom and press the button corresponding to her apartment. There’s no way I’m not helping her carry her luggage down those old stairs.

Isabelle doesn’t protest, letting me up. I walk to her apartment on the fourth floor, knocking on her door. When she opens it, she’s wearing an oversize blue hoodie and matching sweatpants, her hair in the same high ponytail from earlier.

Even in a casual outfit, she looks stunning. Resisting her is proving harder and harder every day.

“I told you I only needed another five minutes,” Isabelle says. “I was trying to fit everything inside my luggage.”

That’s when I notice the large suitcase beside her that’s double the size of mine. “I thought we were going on an overnight trip, not a vacation to Europe.”

Isabelle crosses her arms. “What do you know about packing? Everything I have inside is an absolute necessity.”