“Nighty night,
Sweetie.” Isabella gently kissed Tony’s forehead.
“Nighty night,”
his sleepy voice answered, and his eyes closed.
Isabella left the room, leaving the door a
touch open. Time to relax a little before she, too would be going to bed.
She put on a
kettle of water for a nice cup of chamomile tea to relax with when the doorbell
rang.
She startled. Who
could want to visit her that late in the day? Her mother lived far away in
Florida. She hoped nothing had happened to her.
She looked through
the peephole.
A stranger stood there, someone who… she didn’t even dare think
it. Fernando? It couldn’t be. She ripped the door open.
Finally face to
face with him, Isabella didn’t know what to say. She stared at him, her heart
beating out of control. She hated him for what he’d done to her. No, she loved
him and was glad to see him. She didn’t know what to say. Her impulse to slam
the door into his face was stopped by the look in his eyes.
He looked older,
sadder somehow. “Isabella? Can I come in?”
Still speechless,
she held the door open.
He stepped in, and
she slammed the door shut after him.
Fernando looked
around the tiny apartment and his eyes fastened on her. “I’m sorry, Isabella,
but it really wasn’t my fault. Let me tell you what happened.”
Isabella stood,
arms akimbo, tapping her foot. “You better hurry. And you better have a good
story to tell.”
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