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It doesn't tempt you...?
She woke up in the guest bedroom the following morning....... alone. She was both saddened and relieved by that. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was well after ten in the morning and the gloom told her that it was probably raining. Isabella was shocked that she had slept so late and rushed through her morning ablutions, while trying to ignore the ever-present queasiness. She gingerly made her way downstairs, feeling like someone with a hangover as she headed for the kitchen.
Fortunately there were no food smells emanating from the room but when she walked in, it was to find Justin sitting at the breakfast bar and staring thoughtfully down at his full coffee mug. He looked up when she stepped into the room his eyes sweeping over her figure, taking in the worn old jeans, faded sweatshirt and battered trainers.
"How are you feeling, ca... Isabella?"
"Fine," she mumbled, getting herself a glass of orange juice before turning toward the breakfast bar and taking the seat opposite his on one of the quaint wooden chairs.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?" He asked softly and Isabella grimaced, the thought of food making her stomach churn queasily.
"I'm fine." He swore softly.
"You're obviously not fine," he growled. "I don't know what you think starving yourself will achieve."
"Oh for God's sake, I'm hardly starving myself, just skipping breakfast."
"You look like you've skipped entirely too many meals recently," he shook his head and sent a scathing glare up and down her thin frame.
"If it'll get you off my back, I'll have some toast," she seethed before slamming her glass down. She used too much force and must have placed it right on the edge because the glass went tumbling down to the floor and shattered on impact, spilling the bright contents all over the floor. The jarring noise completely unravelled Isabella and frayed her nerves to breaking point.
"Oh," her eyes flooded with tears as she realised whose fault it had been. "I'm sorry..."
"Isabella," Justin was beside her in seconds, his hands on her shoulders and his face peering down into hers in concern. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, shrugging out of his grip and he dropped his hands abruptly.
"Are you sure?" He demanded to know. "You're as white as a sheet..."
"Just a bit of a shock," she waved his concern aside. "It's raining ," she observed inanely, in a very weak attempt to change the subject and her eyes fixed on the dull greyness of the world outside.
