The Homecoming: Book Three of The Psychopath Maker Series

Chapter 19: Wickedly Delicious

Oceanic, was the only seafood restaurant in Evening, which was quite astonishing for the coastal town. But once you stepped foot in the seaside eatery with its navy and white lighthouse-painted walls, beige stone floors that called to mind the sandy shores merely feet away, and easy classical music that embraced the melodic waves in a serene duet—it was understood that no other establishment could compete.

Isabeth quickly composed a text to Harper before entering the establishment. She apologized for her flippant tone earlier and promised to make it up to her, hit send, and then strutted into the packed building. Occupied tables with little room to spare, there was no surprise there. Oceanic was always crowded on a day ending in a 'y'. She hoped Troy made reservations but then again it was him so he probably just showed up, and flirted with the hostess or whoever had the clout to seat him at a table far enough from the kitchen with a view of the water.

Just as she advanced towards the brass podium where a blonde in a sailor's dress stood priming her smile for her arrival, she heard her name.

"Isabeth!" The eager voice sent her head twisting around with haste. A smile swooshed across her face as she set her eyes on the young man in olive slacks and a cream button-down rolled up to his elbows.

"Dude!" She called out, cutting the space between them—paying no mind to the shushes and discontented glares from older, over-esteemed diners. "Troy!" She fanned out her arms as she reached him by the table overlooking waves gingerly rolling in kissing the shore under the mandarin sunset. It was romantic and if she was there with Alex, she'd be swooning but she wasn't so she slightly smiled before turning back to him, "You're here on time."

"Where else would I be?" Troy chuckled, slipping his phone in his back pocket. "I'm not a flake."

"I don't know." Isabeth stepped into his space, hitched on her tiptoes since she went for taupe Adidas not pumps, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You kinda fell off the map." Her body fell into his as he embraced her tightly, until this moment with her heart thudding against her chest she didn't know how much she missed her third best friend.

Troy breathed in her soft, floral scent with his cheek resting against her full, black flat-ironed locks, "I apologize for that." He stroked her back, his fingertips nipped at the smooth skin of her back that her caramel crop top didn't cover. "I got so busy and..." His sight dropped down on her ample derriere sheath by a leather skirt. "Mmm, I missed you too."

"Then you should've texted." Isabeth pulled out of his embrace and swatted his shoulder. "Hmm," She smirked running her eyes over his full, broad shoulders then took a seat. "Has someone been pumping iron?" She plucked a warm croissant out of the bread basket. Her Aunt Jade would probably say 'Bread makes your butt big' but Isabeth couldn't care less. Bread was good and that's all that mattered. "Got a girlfriend." She wiggled her eyebrows tearing the roll in half. "Is she pretty? What am I saying, she's gorgeous and hopefully smart, too. You deserve it." She bit a chunk out of the roll.

Troy signaled for a waiter, "No girlfriend. Just hit the gym to blow off frustration."

"That I understand." She sat the pieces of bread on the saucer in front of her. "For a vacation town, the stress this summer has been boundless." She swallowed the grief growing in her throat and picked her eyes off the rye product. "But were you too busy to come to Fiona's funeral?"

Troy shifted in his seat, then drove a hand through his silky raven mane, "I don't like funerals, Isa."

"Neither does Malachi but he was there."

"Then he's a stronger man than I am." He slunk back against the chair. "Funerals aren't for the dead."

"Yeah." She nodded. "They're for the living and I needed you."