Isabelle’s teasing added a touch of flirtation to the air. Ryan chuckled and replied, “Being henpecked is just another way of saying I respect my wife. And yeah, I’m totally okay with that.”


    He turned to me, practically begging for praise with his eyes.


    I smiled and kept quiet. Some things were better discussed behind closed doors. In public, we had to keep up


    appearances.


    Edward sat there quietly, while Isabelle kept sneaking wistful nces at him–her girlish feelings were written all over her


    young face.


    Edward had that maic, mature charm, a sessful career, and devastatingly handsome looks–no woman could ever


    resist a man like him.


    After dinner, Isabelle was still scheming to catch a ride with Edward, shooting Ryan subtle nces every chance she got.


    She wanted Ryan to step in, and he didn’t hesitate–he just turned to Edward and asked, “Uncle Ryan, can you give


    Isabelle a lift? She’s heading back to art school.”


    Edward replied tly, “It’s not on my way. You take her.”


    With that, he got into his car and drove off.


    Isabelle stood there on the curb, stunned and misty–eyed–you could tell she was hurting inside.


    Ryan looked a little exasperated and turned to me. “Vic, maybe Isabelle can ride with you?”


    I nodded. “I’m going that way anyway, I’ll drop her off.”


    Isabelle looked at me, her voice trembling. “Sorry to trouble you.”


    Ryan watched as we drove off. In the car, Isabelle nced at me and asked if I could put on a song–she was feeling pretty


    low.


    I hit y, and a mncholy farewell tune filled the car. I reached to skip it, but Isabelle, her voice soft, said, “It’s fine, just


    leave it on.”


    I kept my eyes on the road, waiting at a red light, when Isabelle suddenly asked, “Vic, do you really get guys? Ever wonder what they’re actually thinking?”


    I paused, then said, “Guys without a career are all about trying to make something of themselves, chasing cash. Once they’ve made it, they just want more money–and eventually, power too.”


    “What about women? And love? Don’t they care about that?” Isabelle looked genuinely surprised by my answer.


    I nced at her pale face and let out a softugh. “Women end up as their trophies, and love is just a little vor in their


    lives.”


    Isabelle blinked her big, beautiful eyes. “Vic, do you not believe in love anymore? Or is it because you’ve been through a


    09:11 Fri, 29 Aug


    marriage and now think love isn’t that important?”


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    Her words hit a nerve, and memories started flooding back. I let out a soft sigh. “We all have the same 24 hours. Women tend to pour their time into rtionships, and then get tangled up in emotions. Men, on the other hand, are all about their careers. Until they’ve reached the top, they won’t always have the perfect feelings <i>to </i>give a woman. It’s not that I don’t believe in love, I just don’t need it all the time.”


    Isabelle couldn’t wrap her head around my perspective. She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s right. Both men and women need love. Love is the most beautiful thing in life, and everyone should go out and find it.”


    “You’ve got a point,” I said, nodding in agreement. “For those who haven’t experienced it yet, love is definitely something


    to look forward to.”


    “Vic, is it true love between you and Ryan?” Isabelle asked, her gaze searching my face.


    My heart gave a little jolt–Isabelle was definitely probing for something.


    I remembered what I’d said before: sometimes, telling the truth just hands someone ammo against you.


    When it came to my own story, I always kept things close to the vest.


    “We’re still figuring each other out, trying to build some trust. True love? That’s a bit much for now,” I replied.


    Isabelle looked at me, surprised. “You’re not just stringing him along, are you? Ryan’s not some puppy you can mess with. If you’re with him, you really need to treat him seriously.”


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