then returned her attention to Isabella. “What was that, sweetheart?”
“Nothing.”
“Of course, I think a lot of it has to do with Randall reminding your father how he used to be when he first arrived on the Hill.” Katherine leveled a sweet smile at her daughter and then reached over and cupped one of her apple-plump cheeks. “My baby. I can’t believe you’re about to get married. Where has the time gone?”
Isabella smiled back at her mother and covered the hand on her cheek with their own. A measure of happiness bloomed in her heart. She loved being the cause of her parents’ happiness. It was almost worth marrying someone she didn’t love.
“I think it’s time.”
Confused, Isabella stared at her mother. “Time for what?”
Katherine cleared her throat. “You know. Time.”
Isabella stared.
Her mother lowered her hand and shifted around in her chair. After making a few cursory glances over her shoulder, she leaned forward.
Still at a loss, Isabella followed suit and leaned closer as well.
“Time for...The Talk,” Katherine whispered. “You know.”
“The Talk?”
Her mother nodded and resumed looking uncomfortable in her chair.
Finally, it hit Isabella. “Oh.” A rush of heat surged through her. “Oh. The Talk.” Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably. “That’s okay, Mom. There’s no need for that. It’s okay.” She reached for her untouched champagne and downed the contents in a single gulp.
Stricken, Katherine pressed a hand against her heart. “Isabella Elizabeth Kane, don’t tell me that you’ve...that you’re no longer...you know.” She whipped her head around; making sure again no one was listening, and leaned forward to whisper, “A virgin.”
The pain medication lost the war with Isabella’s raging migraine. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “Of course I am,” she whispered, equally appalled.
Her mother almost collapsed with relief. “Oh thank goodness. I knew I raised a good Baptist girl.” She finally picked up her shoulders and straightened in her chair. “In fact, I’m sure it’s one of the qualities Randall likes about you. You’re so pure and innocent,” her mother prattled on. “A man knows the difference between a woman you play with and a woman you marry—especially a political man.”
Isabella went back to feeling like cattle. For the past week she’d tried to convince herself that Randall’s proposal was based on love or at least a serious case of like, but her mother dismissed those notions with the same ease in which she’d told her that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.
Pressing her lips together, Isabella tuned out her mom and went back to pushing her food around her plate. She lost her appetite over an hour ago. Not that her mother would notice.
“Isabella,” Katherine snapped.
“What? Huh?”
Her mother’s fork tumbled from her fingers. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” she accused.
Isabella started to deny the charge but then decided to come clean. “Sorry. I just...have a lot on my mind,” she offered with a smile. “You know: the wedding and all. What were you saying?”
Katherine still looked put out, but continued in a low voice. “I was talking to you about your honeymoon night.”
Isabella fought all that was holy not to groan and roll her eyes.
“When your father and I—”
“Mom,” Isabella cut her off. Despite being twenty-seven, and being the product of her parents’ coupling, Isabella didn’t want to imagine her parents ever having sex. “I know it’s important for you to have this conversation with me, but I really don’t think I can handle it.”
Katherine looked hurt.
“It’s just...awkward,” Isabella covered. “Maybe I should learn about it like everyone else—from my friends.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Please not from that Wakey girl.”
“Waqueisha.”
“Whatever. She’ll probably tell you to charge for it.”
“Mom.”
Katherine waved her hand in the air. “Fine. Talk to your friends. But take my advice: it’s best to lie still and recite the alphabet. It’ll be over before you reach Z.”
“Mother.”
“Alright, alright.” Her mother tossed her hands up in the air. “That’s all I have to say.”
Isabella sincerely hoped so.
“You never caught her name?” Charlie repeated.
“I know. I haven’t crashed and burned that badly since elementary school,” Derrick told his friend at the hotel’s bar while he tried to understand his disappointment every time he thought about the shy, skittish woman.
Charlie gave his buddy a good hearty pound on the back. “Well, don’t beat yourself up about it. We all have one off day every once in a while. Never happened to me, but I’ve heard stories.”
Derrick laughed. “Of course not.”
“Drinks are on me, old man,” Charlie chuckled. “It’s probably all downhill from here. From now on you’re going to have to start prowling for dates at the local bingo halls.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m just saying.”
Derrick let the fact that Charlie was the eldest of the two by ten days slide because today Derrick’s game was indeed off. He took another deep pull from his beer bottle and imagined for the umpteenth time what his little drowned rat would’ve looked like with dry hair and makeup. He hated he couldn’t see what dangerous curves lay beneath her bulky, black trench coat.
But then there was that moment in the cab when their eyes had met. He felt...something. It wasn’t sexual, though there was no question he had been attracted to her. It was...
“It’s not about who has the deepest curves or the thickest backside, but someone who, when you look into her eyes, her soul speaks to you down in here.”
Derrick gulped hard at the sound of Herman’s gravelly voice floating in his head. He looked at the three empty bottles lined on the bar and decided he’d had too much to drink.
“Oh, it’s just as well,” he mumbled. “The last thing I need to do is screw up another woman’s life.”
*
