Free Back to the Top (Ross Records) (3) by Jl Paul

you to witness it.”
    I stopped cold, my heart filling with ice. I’d been afraid he’d kill himself, too, but I’d never said as much to him or anyone else.
    “I wanted to help you,” I said, zipping my bag and tossing it on my shoulder. “But you wouldn’t let me.”
    I started for the stairs, Jake right behind me.
    “I wanted to be with you,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “I wanted to be with you. But you decided my life. You decided that I had to leave. Well, I am going to decide my life now. I’m going.”
    When I reached the front door, I noticed Nick peeking out of the kitchen.
    “Iz, wait,” Jake said. “Let’s talk, okay?”
    “No,” I said, shaking him off while I opened the door.
    “Iz…”
    “Let her go, Jake,” Nick said behind me.
    I ran to my car without looking back and peeled out of the driveway.
    I cried all the way home.
     
    ***
    Wednesday night, Brad and I had dinner with his father, Henry, and George and Mildred Tharpe. The restaurant was almost as stuffy as the country club with dimly lit chandeliers, linen tablecloths, and soft music.
    Talk at the table centered on the big merger which left me horribly bored. I tried to follow along but my mind could care less and preferred to wander.
    I hadn’t thought about anything but Jake since the holiday weekend and needed to push that out of my brain. It was easier said than done, though for my body constantly tingled when I recalled his kisses and my heart melted when I remembered how sweetly he’d held me.
    I wanted to release an exasperated sigh but knew better. That would be ‘frowned upon.’
    Instead, I sat straight, sipped my wine, ate like a dainty little lady, and waited for the torture to end. It wasn’t that I disliked the Tharpes, they were actually nice people. But Brad’s father, Henry, was a total bore. He was also the person Brad looked up to most in the world. Brad’s mother, who had passed years ago, was the epitome of the 1950’s housewife. She dressed properly every day, stayed in shape, kept an immaculate house, had dinner ready the moment her husband walked through the door, and never worked a day in her life – outside of the home, that is. Brad wanted the same thing.
    I actually had no problem with women who wanted to live that way. People had a right to live how they wanted as long as they weren’t hurting anyone. It just wasn’t the sort of lifestyle I craved.
    Sitting at that table, I had a vision of my future: Isabella in a pretty blue dress with a crisp white apron over it, bustling around the kitchen, preparing a hot meal for her husband whenever he decided to come home. Every hair in place, makeup neat and complimentary, and the house clean, the children quiet – ugh.
    But what choice did I have? When Brad had proposed, I’d accepted. We’d made a deal. I couldn’t break that deal now.
    “Is everything all right, Isabella, dear?” Mildred asked, shaking me out of my stupor.
    “Yes, thank you,” I smiled. “I’m sorry; I was just making a mental list of things I have to do at the Children’s Center by the end of the week.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Brad’s furrowed brow and his father’s dark look.
    “Oh, I’ve heard great things about the Children’s Center,” Mildred said. “Jenny loves volunteering – she’s even trying to convince me to do it.”
    “That would be wonderful,” I said.
    “Well, I don’t have a whole lot of free time right now,” she frowned. “But perhaps I could come in at story time and read to them.”
    My smiled widened. “We have story time every day and also have several community members who volunteer to come in and read their favorite childhood book. I’d love to sign you up whenever you have time.”
    “I would enjoy that,” Mildred said. “Why don’t you give me the telephone number for the Center and I can call you tomorrow?”
    I gave her the number and we talked about the Center until the men decided the evening was