2. Izzy
2
IZZY
There’s no place on earth that soothes my soul like Parkerville, Maine.
I can see why my sister chose it without even visiting. It screams small coastal town and idyllic life by the sea .
I turn the radio down as I navigate the RAV-4 I rented for my stay—a far cry from my BMW back home—toward town. The fabric seats smell faintly of cigarettes, despite the contract I signed that said no smoking in the rental.
When the town limits come into view, the smile that spreads across my lips is uncontrollable. Almost immediately I feel better than I have since the night of the interview.
I roll the window down and inhale the salty ocean air.
Home .
That’s how I feel, like I’m returning to where I belong .
Once I turn onto Main Street, it only takes a minute before I’m parking beside my sister’s store, Color Me Happy.
I grab the doggy backpack from the passenger seat and let Wonton out.
“Let’s go potty,” I croon to my beloved Maltese.
He makes quick work, hiking his leg up on the dumpster, and when he’s done, I scoop him up and cover his head in kisses, his fluffy white fur tickling my nose.
“Let’s go see Auntie Via.”
The last time I visited, my sister gave me a key to her apartment above her art store, urging me to use it any time.
My chest goes tight. I really hope she meant that.
Her car isn’t in the alley, so she’s probably at her boyfriend’s. He’s eleven years younger than her, insanely hot, and absolutely perfect for her. She deserves someone who worships the ground she walks on after how things ended with her ex-husband.
When I unlock the door and push it in, all the air leaves my lungs.
“Oh my God.” I slap a hand over my eyes—my poor innocent eyes.
I did not expect to walk in and find my sister pinned against the counter while Reid goes to town.
Nope.
With a shudder, I run back down the stairs, hugging Wonton to my chest, grateful I didn’t lug my heavy suitcase along with me.
I quickly herd Wonton back into his bag, then start the car, ready to get the hell out of there. But before I can, Via’s at my door.
“Izzy.” She knocks on the glass, her face bright red with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. ”
As I roll the window down, I do my best not to think about her boyfriend’s butt. “It’s okay. I didn’t think you were home, so I was going to let myself in. You know, key and all.” I hold up the key like I need it for evidence.
“When you texted that you were coming, I thought you meant next week or next month, not the next day. My car’s at Reid’s.” Her words fall from her mouth quickly. “We came over in his to get some things and got… distracted.”
Movement in my periphery catches my attention, and when I find Reid standing in the open doorway of Via’s apartment, shirtless, his jeans pulled up but still unbuttoned, I sigh.
“Hey, Izzy.” With a smirk, he waves one hand.
I’m not sure it’s possible to embarrass that guy.
“Hi, Reid.” To Via, I say, “I’ll stay at the inn for now.”
“Wait.” She purses her lips, her nose crinkling in confusion. “How long are you staying?”
“Through the summer.” Or forever, since I’m canceled.
Her brows rise in surprise. “That long?”
“Mhm.” I explained the debacle to her, but she’s entirely inept at social media, so the whole thing went right over her head.
“Reid’s leaving. Please, stay. It would be silly for you to stay at the inn.”
From the look of things, it would be a terrible idea for me to stay here. I don’t know why Via and Reid haven’t moved in together yet, but I respect my sister for wanting to take it slow. She got married fairly young, and look how that turned out.
“Yeah.” I nod at a shirtless Reid, who’s still hovering by the door. “Sure looks like he’s going to leave.”
With a scowl, she shoos him inside. “I’ll make him leave.”
“It’s fine.” Disappointment flickers through me, but I keep my expression light. “You weren’t expecting me. I’ll stay at the inn for now and figure something out.”
The inn is cute, but it’s not a great solution for the length of time I plan to be here. Being relegated to a single room would be torture.
“Izzy, I’m serious, please stay.”
“Listen.” I inhale and let it out slowly. “To be perfectly honest with you, after what I just saw, I’m not sure I’m capable of entering your apartment without throwing up.”
Frowning, she mutters, “Fair enough.”
I pat her hand where it rests on the open window frame. “I’m very happy for you, though.”
Via laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Thanks. You’ll find someone special soon enough.”
My heart pinches as the words hit. I’m not so sure about that. Guys in LA are incredibly vain. Disgustingly so. Most of the women are, too. Sure, I’ve had a smidge of Botox here and there and some lip filler myself, but most people who call the City of Angels their home go overboard. And more than that, I’ve yet to meet a single one who is capable of loving someone more than they love themself.
Forgive me for wanting to be someone’s everything .
I’ve tried to find a man who had the potential, but each time I find one I think may be a genuinely good guy, lo and behold, the shine wears off and he ends of using me for some sort of connection.
In LA, I swear there isn’t a single line that people believe isn’t meant to be crossed.
“I’m going to go,” I tell her. “I need to go see if they have a room.”
“All right, but summers are busy here, so if they’re booked, come back. Stay with me. ”
“I will.”
I won’t.
Two hours later I find myself at my assistant’s apartment. It was by pure happenstance that I hired Layla. Maybe it was even downright freaky, because she’s from the same small town my sister now calls home. All the work I need an assistant for is virtual, so when I was looking, I didn’t limit my search to LA. Layla has been a godsend, helping respond to emails, manage my schedule, and even edit the occasional video when I’m too busy.
“It’s the lumpiest couch in existence.” She cringes. “I’m sorry. Your back is going to scream at you in the morning.”
When I set Wonton down, he immediately takes off to sniff the corner of said couch.
Layla’s little girl is nowhere to be seen. Judging by the late hour, she is probably already in bed.
“A lumpy couch is better than the park bench I was contemplating.”
I filled her in on the Reid and Via situation when I called, desperate for a place to stay. After much gagging on her end, since Reid is her little brother, she promised I could stay with her, just as long as I was okay with sleeping on the couch.
The inn is booked until what feels like the end of time—or through the summer, whichever comes first.
“Let me grab a pillow and blankets for you.” With that, Layla disappears down the small, dark hallway.
My shoulders sag in relief. Her apartment is small, so accommodating me isn’t ideal, but she didn’t bat an eye.
Though this isn’t a long-term solution. I can’t stay here, taking up space, for more than a night or two. I might have to go back to LA after all.
The thought makes my chest tight. It makes me want to scream.
When I moved to LA years ago, it was full of opportunities for my social media career, and many of the friends I had made as I built my business were living there, too. As much as I loved it back then, it hasn’t held the same appeal over the last couple of years.
Layla returns with a stack of blankets and sets them on the edge of the couch before going back for pillows.
I’m surveying the room when Wonton growls at the kitchen cabinet, pulling my attention to him. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in his doggy mind. Why is the kitchen cabinet so threatening?
“All right, this is all I’ve got.”
Heart easing, I take the pillows from a smiling Layla. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll try to make other arrangements tomorrow.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m good.” I give her a dismissive wave, but at the same time, my stomach rumbles, contradicting me.
With a laugh, Layla wanders to the fridge. The surface of it is covered with an array of magnets and family photos. “I have leftover Kraft mac ’n’ cheese—princess-shaped, obviously. There’s turkey and ham if you’re okay with a sandwich.”
My stomach rumbles again. “I’ll take the mac ’n’ cheese.”
Layla heats it in the microwave while I fit the sheets and blankets onto the couch.
As I work, exhaustion from the day sets in. I travel often, and normally, it doesn’t faze me, but after the Lux debacle I find myself wearier than I ever remember feeling, no matter what I’m doing.
When my makeshift bed is made, Layla sets the warm bowl on the counter, along with a fork. “You can use my shower, too.”
“Bless you.” I sidle up to the cabinets and rest a forearm on the Formica.
Smiling, she perches on the edge of the counter, watching me devour the macaroni. “How are you doing? And be honest with me.”
Layla knows better than anyone what I’ve been dealing with, since she fields my emails and messages.
My stomach twists, and I grimace. “Why do you think I’m here?”
Her lips turn down in sympathy. “You can talk to me. I’m happy to listen.”
“I know.” I inhale another bite of food. “But you already know most of the details. The follower count, the brand deals I’ve lost. I used to love making YouTube videos, and anymore, that isn’t even fun.”
The things I used to find joy in leave me feeling anxious and stressed.
She gives me a sad smile. “It’ll blow over eventually.”
That’s what I thought, too, but I figured it would have happened by now. Instead, internet trolls continue to edit new videos with clips from the interview, keeping the fuel of hatred going.
In record time, I’ve finished my princess-shaped meal. I quickly rinse the bowl and load it into the dishwasher. “If you don’t mind,” I say with a sigh, “I’m going to shower and go to bed. Or… couch.”
The sympathy in her eyes as she watches me make my way to the bathroom only makes what’s become a permanent ache in my chest more acute.
When I get out of the shower, Layla has already gone to bed, and Wonton is asleep on my pillow. With a sigh, I scoot him over and lie down.
She’s right. The couch sucks. But I find myself drifting off to sleep within minutes.