The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella) novel Chapter 12

Isabelle walked into the kitchen to the sight of Jacob standing over an overturned recycling bin, with several shattered beer bottles at his feet. He had a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, still as he looked at the mess he had made.

When Isabelle appeared, he looked from the mess to her and then back again. “I…uh…” he began, then went to rub the back of his neck, but realised that was impossible with the dustpan in his hand. So he dropped his hand and shrugged.

Isabelle was relieved that he didn’t seem to have hurt himself. But she couldn’t help but be amused at how he looked standing there looking at the mess he had made as if not sure how it had happened.

He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I was sweeping and then…I hit the bin.”

Yeah, she had guessed as much. Stepping forward, she reached for his broom. “Let me clean it up.”

“No,” he said, stepping back. “Careful,” he added, looking down at the shattered glass. “Don’t step on them.”

Isabelle stepped back from the fallen bin. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“I can handle this,” he told her, beginning to sweep the shattered pieces together. “But I can’t handle you getting hurt because of me.”

Isabelle couldn’t keep her smile to herself. Did he realise how sweet that sounded? “Okay,” she finally gave in, seeing as he really did have a handle on things. Leaving him to his devices, she went back to continue tidying up the living room.

It didn’t take much longer for Jacob to clean up his mess and complete the rest of the cleanup. When he looked around the kitchen, he felt satisfied at the result of his efforts. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done such intense housework, but it sure felt nice, almost therapeutic.

Leaving the kitchen area, he ventured into the living room. He had caught glimpses of Isabelle moving around but hadn’t managed to really see what she was up to. Now, looking at her final result, he couldn’t help but stare in awe.

It was the same old living room, the same furniture, but it looked completely different. She had moved the furniture, gotten rid of all the clutter, and seemed to have wiped down every visible surface.

Isabelle turned to face him and indicated the room. “What do you think?” she had a big smile that suggested she was happy with her work.

She had every reason to be, Jacob thought. “It’s nice,” he told her. Way more than nice. “It looks very different and way better,” he added.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes shining with joy. “You like it?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking around again. There was something about how she had rearranged everything that reminded him of his late mother. His mother was very organised and at all times, everything in their home, down to the smallest details, always looked thoughtfully placed. And, in a way, it made the house more warm, lively. “It reminds me of my mother,” he found himself admitting out loud. He didn’t care whether that was too much information or not. “She was really good at making a room look like the comfiest place ever.”

“Your mother must have been a gentle woman,” Isabelle said, smiling softly.

Jacob gazed at her with a small smile. “She is your mother-in-law, you know.”