Chapter 7 7

Grafton spent the rest of the day staring at his phone. He typed out text messages and deleted them. I didn't mean it. You took it out of context. Are we still on for Sunday brunch?

He couldn't hit send. The memory of Isadora's cold eyes in the café haunted him.

That night, he drove to her apartment. He parked his Porsche illegally in front of the fire hydrant and waited.

At 9:00 PM, Isadora came out the front door carrying a bag of recycling. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. She looked tired.

Grafton jumped out of the car. "Isadora!"

Isadora froze. She looked at him, then at the recycling bin. She sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. She walked over, dumped the glass bottles-they crashed loudly-and turned to go back inside.

"Isadora, please," Grafton said, blocking her path to the door. "Can we just talk? Like normal people?"

"We aren't normal people anymore, Grafton," Isadora said. She wrapped her arms around herself against the night chill.

"Look," Grafton said, running a hand through his hair. "At the club... I didn't ignore you on purpose. Bella just got back from Paris, and she's insecure, okay? She needs a lot of reassurance."

"It doesn't matter," Isadora said.

"It does matter!" Grafton's voice rose. "We've been friends for twenty years. You can't just throw that away because I have a fiancée."

Isadora looked up at him. The streetlamp cast harsh shadows on his face. He looked like a petulant child who had lost his favorite toy.

"I heard you," Isadora said softly.

Grafton stopped. "What?"

"In the bathroom," Isadora said. "I heard you talking to Topher. You said I was a burden. You said I was like a child."

all the color drained from Grafton's face. "Isadora... I..."

"Did you say it?"

"It was just guy talk!" Grafton pleaded, stepping closer. "I was just trying to... you know, look cool in front of the guys. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," Isadora said. "And you were right. I was dependent on you. I built my whole world around you. And that was my mistake."

"No," Grafton said, reaching for her. "No, Izzy. I take it back. I need you. You keep me grounded."

Isadora took a step back, dodging his hand. "You don't need a friend, Grafton. You need a fan. And I resigned."

"I am serious," Isadora said. "I wish you and Bella the best. Goodbye."

She turned and swiped her fob at the door. The lock buzzed. She pulled the heavy glass door open and slipped inside.

"Isadora!" Grafton slammed his hand against the glass.

Isadora didn't turn around. She walked to the elevator and pressed the button.

Grafton stood on the sidewalk, watching her disappear. He felt a surge of anger. How dare she? After everything he did for her?

He punched the glass again, harder this time. The doorman inside glared at him.

Grafton stormed back to his car. His phone rang. It was Bella.

"Hey, baby," Bella cooed. "Where are you?"

"I'm... out," Grafton said, his voice shaking with rage. "Isadora is being crazy. She's cutting me off."

"Oh no," Bella said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "That's terrible. She's probably just jealous. Listen, why don't we invite her to dinner tomorrow? At Le Bernardin. My treat. I'll apologize to her, smooth everything over. If she sees we're trying, she'll come around."

Grafton gripped the steering wheel. It was a lifeline. "You think so?"

"I know so," Bella said. "She just needs to see that I'm not the enemy."

"Okay," Grafton said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Okay. Let's do that."

He hung up, feeling better. A dinner. A nice, expensive dinner. That fixed everything.

In her penthouse uptown, Bella set her phone down on her vanity. She looked at her reflection. She applied a coat of dark red lipstick.

She smiled. It was a shark's smile.

"Let's see how much she loves you after tomorrow," Bella whispered to the mirror.