Consequences

Part 71

Isabelle watched as he retrieved the eggs, got the milk and butter out of the fridge, rummaged for a saucepan, and as if he had been doing it for years, set about making her some scrambled eggs. She was tempted to tease him, but figured that made the situation far too intimate. She needed to remember to keep her distance.

Doug glanced over his shoulder and noticed she was watching him. He was tempted to say something glib, but figured that might make the situation difficult.

A few minutes later Doug dished them both a plate full of fluffy eggs. He'd also made some toast. He placed some cutlery by her plate, asked if she'd like some salt and pepper and when she shook her head, he took his seat. Isabelle was really tempted to laugh at the fact he seemed so at home in her kitchen. She should be waiting on him.

"You can use the study." Isabelle told him as she sought a topic that might be safe and neutral. What had happened to for this unexpected tension to suddenly rear its head? Why was she suddenly feeling skittish? She tried not to over think it. But in the back of her head she knew that she was veering toward accepting she was still attracted to the man. Her head kept advising against it. Her heart kept urging her to take the risk. "It's probably a better office than the kitchen."

Once again she wanted to roll her eyes at her lack of sophistication. Because now by offering she also gave the impression she expected him to hang around. She wanted to kick herself. He no doubt would think she was being far too demanding in assuming he was going to hang around. Idiot, she remonstrated with herself. For a second she was tempted to apologise for being so presumptuous. But then she figured it might be best if she allowed it to slide.

Doug wondered why she suddenly looked embarrassed. "This is fine. I grew up in a caravan, so this is luxury working space." He told her. Now why had he gone and given her that information? He was tempted to kick himself. She'd probably think he was spinning her a hard luck story.

"A caravan." Isabelle tried to keep the pity out of her voice. He grew up in a caravan? Well he'd certainly come a long way since then. Grit and determination she figured. No wonder he'd been upset all those weeks ago when her name had started opening doors. He was probably a man who wanted to make his own way in the world rather than have people clear a path for him. "That would have been tough."

Probably an understatement, he thought, but did not intend to say that to her. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel sorry for him. His childhood was tough. That was the simple truth. But his childhood had also given him life long friends and a work ethic that saw him build a successful business. "Better than no roof at all." He bit into his toast.

Isabelle read that statement as a keep out sign. What was she supposed to do now? For a woman who was good in social settings and more than adept at managing conversations, she found herself struggling to think of a safe topic. That and the fact her brain still felt as if it was nothing more than cotton wool had her simply looking down at her plate and concentrating on eating.

A strained silence descended. Doug wished he hadn't been quite so terse when he'd responded just now. She no doubt had taken it as a reprimand. He forked up some scrambled egg and wondered why he was struggling to manage a simple conversation.

Isabelle did not make eye contact at all. She kept her eyes on her food as she ate her eggs and said no more. He waited for her to ask another question, and when she didn't he ate his eggs and said no more. The silence dragged on. The sounds of cutlery on crockery sounded like cymbals clanging in the silence.

After their early lunch, Doug waited for her to finish and then asked. "All done?"

She nodded. "Thank you. That was perfect." Though in reality she had no sense of taste at the moment, so the only thing that registered was the texture of what she ate. The eggs were light and fluffy. He might run a business empire but he could also cook.

"You're welcome." Doug said as Doug cleared the dishes from the table. Now they sounded like a couple of trite distant relatives. Not for the first time he wished he could re run their time together. There were so many things he'd do differently. Things had been going so well in those heady early days. Being with her had felt perfect. He'd seen it as forever material, and yet at the first hurdle he'd fallen. That did not sit well with him.

"I've made you a hot drink." Doug told her rather than asking her whether she wanted a hot drink.

"Ok. Right. Thanks." Isabelle replied as Doug put another of his drinking concoctions in front of her. It was basically hot water with some honey and lemon, and he placed an Aspirin beside the mug. "Thank you." She said more earnestly as she picked up the mug and took a sip. The water was still way too hot.

While she drank that hot drink he loaded the dishwasher. Again silence descended. Isabelle wished she could think of something witty to say to break the silence.

Doug rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He wished he hadn't been flippant about his childhood. Introducing the difference in their lifestyles had clearly alienated her. He wasn't going to pretend he did no come from that part of the world. He was who he was, because of his family history. Living and growing up in that caravan had taught him a lot. Tolerance, patience, compromise. And he planned on using all three to win this woman back. For he was starting to see what Ryan and Jared had seen a long time back: Isabelle Sojour-D'Sa meant something to him.