Annie gave Isabella a “What?” look and Isabella gave her a “You know!” look in return.
Then Annie grabbed Isabella’s hand and dragged her down the hall, up the stairs and to the guest suite.
“Annie, what on earth?” Isabella asked when Annie stopped them in the sitting room.
On the couch were coats and bags. Annie dug through them, pulled out her big, suede, satchel purse and yanked out a magazine.
“I’m sorry, Bella, something’s happened,” Annie said and handed the magazine to Isabella.
Isabella took it, saw it was one of the way too many celebrity gossip magazines and she stared at the cover.
Confused, she looked at Annie and asked, “You dragged me up here because you’re upset Bianca Preston is adopting another child from Africa?”
Annie’s eyes bugged out, her hand shot forward, she ripped the magazine out of Isabella’s hold and opened it to a page that Isabella saw had been marked by Annie turning down the corner. She flipped it in half and handed it back to Isabella.
Isabella instantly understood.
She saw a full page photo of Prentice, Jason and herself walking from the Range Rover toward the hospital. It had been taken several days before.
Prentice was close to Isabella, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back. Jason was walking close to Isabella’s side. Isabella and Jason had their heads bent, eyes to the ground as they walked. Prentice was gazing straight ahead.
They all looked pale, tired and worn.
Isabella’s eyes flew to the caption.
Socialite Isabella Evangelista, with her new beau, handsome, award-winning architect Prentice Cameron and his son, Jason, visiting the hospital after a tragic accident involving Cameron’s daughter.
Isabella’s eyes flew to Annie and she said the first idiot thing that came to mind.
“Prentice has won awards?”
Annie’s eyes bugged out further then she snatched the magazine from Isabella’s hands and snapped, “That’s not the point. Prentice is going to freak.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Prentice was going to more than freak.
He’d always wanted a quiet life, a simple life and that was what he’d given his family. He’d moved them to their private house on the cliff close to the sea. He (obviously) excelled at his work (awards!) and she knew he enjoyed travel (or, he did twenty years ago, she had no idea about now).
But he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his photo in celebrity gossip magazines.
And he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his children’s photos in celebrity gossip magazines.
And he certainly didn’t want to be referred to as Isabella’s “new beau”.
“This isn’t good,” Isabella whispered.
“No, it isn’t,” Annie returned.
Always, for Isabella, it was something.
Something dark.
Something bad.
Even in the middle of a miracle.
Isabella gazed at her friend. “What am I going to do?”