Couples nestled into secluded spots, the room alive with whispers and laughter, a testament to our club’s unique appeal to both exhibitionists and voyeurs. Our communication about the openness of the Mirage had clearly emboldened them. Already, the club buzzed with energy, guests exploring their desires openly.
Izzy quickly put herself back together, grabbing her tray to head back into the fray of the lobby. Watching her from my spot behind the bar, a pang of sadness hit me. It was time to be up-front with her, to let her know that, for me, this couldn’t continue. We needed boundaries. Izzy had made it clear enough times that I wasn’t in her long-term picture, so it was better for both of us to start moving on now.
As she headed back to the bar, the familiar tension that had wrapped around us since our last encounter tightened. It wasn’t just the events of the evening that were weighing heavily on me. It was her words, the boundaries she had set without saying them directly. I understood her hesitations, her need to protect herself from whatever complications our relationship could bring, especially given the age difference. But understanding didn’t ease the sting of rejection, the sense of being placed in a box marked “temporary.”
Her gaze, always so piercing and revealing, met mine as she navigated her way back through the lobby. I often wondered if she realized how transparent she was to me, how her eyes were the windows to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her head. It seemed we had both reached a silent agreement on where we stood, but I felt the weight of voicing it fall heavily on my shoulders.
Drawing a steady breath, I prepared myself for what had to be said. “I think it’s time we set some new boundaries,” I began, my voice steady, even if my heart wasn’t. She stopped in her tracks, a testament to the seriousness of our conversation. “I understand where you’re coming from,” I continued, gesturing vaguely in the space between us, the physical representation of our undefined relationship. “And so, I think it’s best I give you the space you seem to need.”
Her response was immediate, a quick inhalation of breath, and then her lips pressed together in thought. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said, her voice tinged with a resignation that didn’t sit well with me.
It was a strange dance of giving and taking, of opening up only to pull back. Isabella was cautious, wary of rushing into something neither of us was ready for, especially with the looming reality of our age difference and what she perceived as my lack of readiness for the kind of commitment she envisioned. On my end, it was a protective measure, a way to shield myself from the potential hurt of being another temporary thrill in her life. My decision to step back wasn’t just about respecting her boundaries. It was about safeguarding my heart from the ache of being seen as not enough for someone I was, against all logic, falling deeply for.
As she nodded in agreement, I couldn’t help but wonder if she truly understood the depth of what I was offering—space, yes, but also a silent plea for her to see me as more than a momentary diversion.
TWENTY-FIVE
ISABELLA
The crisp morning air mingled with the aroma of fresh coffee as we found our spot in the bustling brunch café, a well-earned treat after the whirlwind of the Mirage Guild’s grand opening. As we settled into the cozy corner, the chatter and clink of dishes surrounded us, a comforting backdrop to our gathering. The girls were already animatedly discussing the night before, their excitement palpable. Yet, amidst the laughter and lively conversation, I found my thoughts wandering, detached from the celebration unfolding around me.
The girls buzzed with energy, rehashing each detail of the Mirage Guild’s grand opening, their voices blending into the background noise of the brunch spot. Natalia was gesturing broadly, recounting a particularly daring performance, while Jessie nodded, her laughter filling our corner of the café. I should have been right there with them, basking in the afterglow of our triumph, yet I found myself disengaged, my focus drifting.
I half-heartedly pushed around the hollandaise sauce on my plate, the rich, creamy texture suddenly unappealing. Last night should have been purely a cause for celebration, the culmination of our hard work and daring vision. And it was, to everyone else. But for me, it also marked something much more personal—a final chapter with Max.
“That event was a game-changer,” Emma enthused, sipping her iced latte. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The energy, the décor . . . it was all so spot-on. “Iz, I’m serious, you need to consider event planning as your career. You thought of everything.”
Jessie, eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and inspiration, nodded in agreement. “Truly, when Emma started creating custom events for the Prism Society, our members loved it.”
“Yeah, and I definitely don’t have time to do both with my design work. Honestly, I’d love to offload the events to someone else,” Emma said, her eyes twinkling.
The mention of passing the baton jolted me from my reverie. I blinked, focusing back on the conversation as Emma’s gaze settled on me expectantly.
“Really?” I asked. “You think there’s enough there to create something from?”
“My work on the Prism Society had me creating my own design firm that’s got a six-month-long waitlist for just a CAD sketch,” Emma said.
I had been craving direction the last few months, hell the last few years. Was this the direction I was meant to go in?
“Stop overthinking it, Iz,” Natalia’s voice cut in. She knew my reactions better than anyone.
“You’re right,” I said with a laugh, “Okay, yeah, I actually think that would be really fun. I know you guys are wanting to expand even more so I could help with those grand openings, club events, VIP member events . . .” My voice trailed off as my brain went into overdrive.
I was sick of floundering and waiting for overly obvious signs of what to do. It might not be the perfect decision, the best decision, the forever decision, but I’d be good at it. I wanted to be the person who allowed myself to make a decision without the full ten-year plan mapped out right along with it.
“Now that the club’s success is out of the way, when are we celebrating you and Max officially becoming a thing?” Emma teased, a sly grin spreading across her face.
“Wait, you all knew about Max and me?” I blurted out, the revelation catching me completely off guard. A flush of embarrassment warmed my cheeks as I realized our attempts at secrecy might not have been as successful as I thought. “Here I was thinking we were being sneaky.”
Laughter bubbled around the table, their knowing looks suddenly making sense. “Izzy, it was the worst-kept secret,” Jessie said with a chuckle. “Seriously, anyone paying even a little bit of attention could see what was happening between you two.”
My embarrassment morphed into a mix of amusement and resignation. So much for discretion. I let out a small sigh, the weight of last night pressing down on me. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news . . . Max and I . . . we decided to end things,” I admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth.
Silence enveloped our little corner of the café, their playful smiles fading into looks of surprise and concern.
“End things? I thought you guys were cute together,” Natalia said, her brows knitting together in confusion.
I managed a small, resigned smile. “Yeah, well, it was his call. I guess . . . it’s for the best. We’re at different places in our lives, you know? There’s an age difference and . . .”
