Scotland for Christmas. Cathryn Parry

Jacob was pretty sure that Eddie had told her the lurid details. Hence her obsession with fixing Jacob up.

      Isabel had seemed to respond to his intensity. Maybe she had some natural intensity of her own deep inside her, dying to come out. Maybe it had taken the shock of Alex dumping her for it to escape through that protective surface of hers.

      And Rachel... Until today, he hadn’t thought of her in years. At this point, she was nothing to him. The thought of her stirred no feelings, one way or another. She’d been a drama queen—open and direct, the opposite of his mom. He’d mistaken that for intensity, and at the time, he’d craved it because it had been such a novelty to him—someone who wanted to pick everything apart and react expressively to it. After being brought up in a mostly silent home, where people tended to withdraw above all, it had been intensely appealing to find someone who thrived on emotion.

      Jacob squinted to find the turnoff he needed. They were almost there.

      Isabel stirred next to him. Stretched like a cat, totally not conscious of him. Comfortable in his presence.

      And something about that just grabbed him and held on.

      Don’t, he told himself. Let her be just a job.

      He reminded himself of that over and over during the rest of the drive.

      * * *

      THERE WAS SOMETHING wonderfully freeing about sitting next to a man whom she didn’t need to give one fig about impressing. Isabel could put her head back on the seat. Let her hair down. Not worry that it was dark outside and the SUV’s engine was lulling her to sleep.

      She’d forgotten how freeing it was to be on the road for a long drive. In her fantasies she could get in a car and drive all day, just get away from her life.

      It felt like being in a fairy tale with him, nothing close to her everyday reality.

      “Knowing Me, Knowing You” by Abba was playing on the radio. She found herself singing along about breaking up never being easy. She put her hand over her mouth and broke into laughter again. That had sounded terrible.

      “I don’t care,” she said aloud. She felt tired of needing to put on a good front. Tired of living for tomorrow. She just wanted to laugh and sing and feel better now. “Do you mind if I turn up the volume?” she asked Jacob.