3. Izzy
3
IZZY
Poke .
Poke.
Poke.
I crack one eye open, finding a grinning Lilibet with her index finger extended, ready to shove it into my cheek again.
“Hi, Lili.” With a groan, I heave myself up to sitting and wipe the drool from my mouth.
The little girl tilts her head and frowns up at me, thoughtful. “Why are you sleeping on our couch?”
“Lili,” Layla admonishes from the hallway, her hands on her hips. “I told you to let her sleep.”
Lili’s brows shoot up as she whips her head around and faces her mom. “She was already awake.”
Head dropped back, Layla huffs. “ Sure she was.”
Wonton, finally roused by the commotion, yips, launching his tiny body at Lili and showering her with kisses.
While the two love on one another, I rub at my eyes, willing my body to perk up. Sadly, it’s not working. Only an espresso shot—or five—will be capable of that.
Layla, dressed for the day, shuffles into the kitchen. “Bacon and eggs sound good to you, Izzy?”
With a grateful smile, I nod. “Sounds delicious.”
I change into fresh clothes and take Wonton out to potty. He spends an awful long time sniffing a light post before finally hiking his leg and peeing. Boys.
When he’s finished, he makes sure to kick the grass with his back feet.
While he searches for a spot to finish his business, I turn my phone on and check my messages. There is a string of texts from Finneas. Unsurprising. As well as a few from my sister. Even one from Reid that pulls a bark of laughter from me.
Sorry you saw my ass , it says. Best one you’ve seen, right?
With a shake of my head, I respond with a middle finger emoji. Almost immediately, he sends a crying-laughing one back. At least one of us isn’t traumatized by the situation.
I reply to Finneas next, apologizing for not checking in. I also fill him in on the accommodation situation and warn him that I might be back sooner than I expected.
Who knew the little town of Parkerville, Maine, was such a destination in the summer months? I’ve only been out here in the fall or winter, maybe the very start of spring, since I tend to travel more for brand trips or destinations I want to vlog in the summer.
Via’s texts are the last ones I read.
She feels terrible, of course, promising that if she’d known, she would’ve picked me up at the airport and we would’ve had a girl’s night. It’s not her fault. In my haste to get the hell out of LA, I didn’t make it clear that I was coming right now .
I’m fine. I tell her. I stayed the night with Layla.
Via: You couldn’t get a room at the inn?
Me: It’s booked until the end of time.
Rather than respond via text, my sister calls.
“Come back over here. We’ll figure something out.”
“No.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s okay.”
She and Reid go back and forth between their apartments. It doesn’t feel right to take over her space, now that I’ve really had time to think about it.
“I feel terrible,” she says, her voice wobbly.
“Via,” I say her name slowly, hoping she can hear the sincerity in my voice. “I’m a big girl. I’m all good here. Promise. I’m out with Wonton, but I’m heading in for breakfast now. Love you, bye.”
Before she can protest again, I end the call.
Now that Wonton has finished his business, he’s hovering at my feet. So I scoop him up under my arm and carefully climb the steps to Layla’s apartment. It’s not a bad place, but the stairs have definitely seen better days, so better safe than sorry.
Back upstairs, I hang Wonton’s leash on the hook by the door, alongside Lili’s purple raincoat.
“Just in time.” Layla slides a plate down the counter and peers at me over her shoulder.
Relief washes over me. The macaroni and cheese I scarfed down last night was barely enough to satiate my appetite. Since the tiny table in the corner only has two chairs, I take my plate to the couch and curl my legs under me while I eat my breakfast.
Wonton jumps up beside me, knowing I’ll share my bacon and eggs with him.
“I was thinking,” Layla begins. “If you’re okay with it, you could stay with my dad.”
Confusion curls through me at the suggestion.
Her dad?
Derrick Crawford?
The man I set my sister up on a date with, not knowing yet that she’d had a one-night stand with his son? The son she’s currently dating?
A pit forms in my stomach. I don’t think Derrick is capable of hating anyone, but his feelings for me probably hover somewhere close.
“Uh.” I swallow thickly. “That’s okay.”
“No, I’m serious,” she goes on, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “He’s all alone in that house now, and he has plenty of space. He wouldn’t mind the company.”
Go back to LA, go back to being miserable and hating every second of my life? Or tough it out with Derrick for a bit?
Living with him, temporarily, obviously, probably wouldn’t be difficult. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man that would give a woman trouble. But there’s a good chance he hates me. I’d spend the whole time stressed about it, and the worst part is the major crush I’ve been harboring for the guy.
I would never in a million years admit to Layla that I have a crush on her dad .
But I do need a place to stay.
My stomach twists, making my breakfast feel like a lead ball.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “As long as he’s okay with it. ”
“He will be,” she promises with a smile.
Derrick’s house is a cute bungalow on an idyllic suburban street full of shaded yards thanks to all the large trees.
Layla gave me her key and assured me it was okay to head over and get settled. So after a stop at the grocery store so I could pick up a few staples as well as stuff to make dinner tonight to thank Derrick for letting me stay here, I’m standing in the middle of the living room.
I let Wonton down, and he takes off with a yip to check out the house.
“Don’t pee on anything,” I warn him.
The house is homey. Straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie. It’s warm. Lived in. Nothing like the white-on-white-on-white spaces in LA. This is the kind of home I’ve always dreamed of having.
In the kitchen, I put the grocery bags on the counter and get to work unpacking them. Wonton sits dutifully at my feet, hoping I’ll take mercy on him and give him some sort of treat.
Once everything is put away, I return to the living room and take my suitcase upstairs to the room Layla told me would be mine. Since I’m planning to be here for a few months, I put my clothes in the dresser that sits beneath a small, mounted TV.
Wonton pads down the hall and pokes his fluffy white head inside, tail wagging victoriously when he finds me.
I got Wonton shortly after I moved to LA. He belonged to a neighbor—a puppy she’d brought home for her spoiled kids, only to find out they had no interest in taking care of a dog. She was planning to take him to a shelter when I bumped into her, and the second I saw his sad, little puppy face, I knew he was mine.
From what Layla mentioned, I should have a few hours before Derrick gets home. Owning his own construction company keeps him busy. That’s how we met—he was renovating my sister’s art store and apartment.
Speaking of my sister, I’ve ignored her last few texts.
Not because I’m upset with her, but because I’m not ready to talk. She’s bound to ask more questions. She’ll want to know the truth behind why I’m here. And no matter how I explain it, she won’t understand. Not for lack of trying, but because she can’t relate to what I do.
MacBook in hand, I settle on the bed. Almost immediately, Wonton curls into a ball beside me and begins snoring like an old man, even though he’s six.
I browse Amazon, adding things to my cart that I forgot in my haste to get away. Then I order shampoo and conditioner from Ulta. There isn’t a physical location anywhere close, but I’m picky about what I use on my hair. Or maybe it’s that my hair is picky. If I don’t use a certain kind of shampoo and conditioner, it’ll be greasy within hours.
As I shop, trepidation still plagues me. Is Derrick really okay with having me around? And does he really want to share the house with another person? It’s only been about a year since Layla moved out with Lili.
He’s probably enjoying the bachelor life, and here I am, throwing a wrench in his plans.