Page 91 of A Perfect Fit

“Izzy—”

“No, we’re done here, Oliver,” I interject. “Stop calling me Izzy. Please leave me alone and never contact me again. Or I’m going to get a restraining order against you.”

Two passersby walk past us, frowning as their gazes flick between Oliver and me.

“And if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to scream for help, Oliver.”

Oliver hesitates, as if contemplating whether to say something else, but ultimately walks off.

My vision blurs as I lean against the nearest wall, tears streaming down my cheeks once he’s out of sight.

I don’t have feelings for Oliver anymore, so why do his words hurt? Why does closure feel like I’m being broken up with again?

A ding reverberates as the elevator doors open, and a familiar face steps out and immediately sees me, his brows furrowed as he runs over to me and pulls me into a hug.

Jackson.

I wrap my arms around him and bury my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

“It’s okay, Bella,” Jackson murmurs, stroking my hair. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

I allow myself to let out my sobs and hold on to this moment with him for as long as I can. To be the raw and unfiltered Isabelle and not the Isabelle who always uses sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

We stay fixed in that position for I don’t know how long before Jackson pulls apart from me. He cradles my face, his thumb wiping away my tears.

“What happened?” he asks, voice gentle.

I stare at him, hesitating. After what happened between us tonight … he wants me, right? Or was that all simply a spur-of-the-moment thing?

The truth is, I’m scared.

I’m scared I’m developing feelings for Jackson, that I’m falling for him, and one day, he might decide he won’t want me anymore.

Jackson isn’t the same person as Oliver, and comparing them would do Jackson a huge injustice. Nevertheless, once upon a time, I innocently believed Oliver would be my first and only boyfriend. We talked about our plans after graduation, all the countries we’d travel to, and even what our future wedding and honeymoon would look like. He showered me with flowery promises, all of which I believed and held close to my heart.

Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and it all happened so quickly, suddenly. Six years of memories turned into nothing but a six-worded text from him saying, I think we should end things. And then … silence.

Now, I can hear that tiny voice in my head again—the one that likes to send my brain into overthinking mode and is warning me to keep my heart guarded.

My gaze drops to the floor. “I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

“Okay, we won’t talk about it.” Jackson’s tone is soft. “How about I get you a cup of tea and we can cuddle together instead?”

That sounds so ideal, and I’d love nothing more than to find myself in his comforting embrace again. I want that. I really do.

But I’m scared that if I hold on to him again, I’ll never want to let go. And if Jackson ever changes his mind about me one day, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to put my broken heart back together.

I swallow. “Actually, I might go back to my room and get some rest.”

“Okay.” Jackson lowers his head slightly. I can tell he’s trying to mask the disappointment on his face, and I hate that I caused that disappointment. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’m sorry,” I quietly say.

Jackson shakes his head and musters a small smile. “Don’t be.”

I give his jacket and Amex card back to him. “Here.”

His eyes trace my face. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”