Marry me

Chapter Twenty-Five.

A member of the female species stared back at me in the vanity mirror. I recognized her. She was me and she had the most deadpan expression I had ever seen on her face. At that moment, my emotions were bipolar. I didn't know whether to be sad, angry, or anxious. I turned my upper body to the left and the right, taking a glimpse of the different angles of the outfit I had on.

I was wearing a black tee with black cropped jeans with black boots that had gold zips accenting them and a long brown tweed blazer. My hair was tied back in a high ponytail with loose strands hanging down the sides of my face, framing my face.

And I was in no way looking enthusiastic.

My brain had already fully processed all that had happened in the past hour and after the conversation, I had had with Mr. Trevelyan, I figured there was no point arguing with an emotionless robot. At least that's what I thought.

I could have easily had my way and slipped out of my clothes and gotten cosy in bed but I didn't. I wasn't wicked. And besides, this was my fake husband we were talking about.

"Don't let them see you down," I whispered to my reflection, repeating what I had always said to myself since when my dad had died. "Don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You're a bad bitch. Own that shit."

I kept repeating the words to myself until I heard footsteps and saw Ann's salt and pepper hair peek into the room through the barely-open door. "I think the-" she stopped short and walked into the room. "You look good, Isabelle."

"Thanks," I said hoping I didn't sound a tad too apathetic.

She didn't seem to notice at all. Thankfully. "Ivan is downstairs."

And how is that my problem? I wanted to say but I held my tongue and mumbled, "Okay." Minutes later, I was descending the spiral stairs as slowly as I possibly could.

"I thought you got yourself lost again, Miss. Greene," I heard Mr. Trevelyan's voice from the last floor. How did he even know I was the one coming down the stairs? That man, sometimes. He didn't stop there. "I figured since you're prone to mistaking some rooms for other rooms, it won't be hard to get yourself lost."

My mind flashed back to when I entered his room thinking it was mine and I scowled. It's not like it was my fault. I got to the bottom of the staircase and noticed him. "Oh, I love that you are singing my praises, Mr. Trevelyan."

I saw he was wearing a dark blue silk shirt and black dress pants. The shirt had a few top buttons undone and I caught a glimpse of a silver dog tag chain dangling on his neck.

And of course, my delightful ex-boss chose to say nothing. Instead, he walked right past me and straight towards the large double doors of the mansion.

I sighed once and twice, imagining all of my problems (Mr. Trevelyan) in one breath and puffing them all out. Just this night, Greene.

*

It was seven pm when we got there. Where 'there' was I didn't know. All I knew was that Mr. Trevelyan parked the car right in front of a small coffee shop. I waited for him to exit the car before I could, just to make sure we were at the right place. Mr. Trevelyan didn't spare me a glance when I almost fell on my face, walking towards him. Bless his arrogant soul -if he has a soul, that is.

The cold evening breeze bit into my cheeks, watering my eyes, as we proceeded into the coffee shop. I caught the faint sound of a bell ding as he opened the door. A strong whiff of different kinds of coffee and spice wafted around my nostrils as I looked around the shop. It was good as empty with only a handful of people scattered over chairs and between tables, and their conversations drowned out by the quiet music emanating from somewhere in the shop. The floors were checkered black and white like a chessboard and around the counter, golden light bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting a goldish hue on the marble top counter.