7. Izzy
7
IZZY
For reasons unknown, I’m on edge as I head to book club. It’s ridiculous, really. I know all these ladies, and even if I didn’t, I never get flustered when I meet people.
Once I’ve parked on the street in front of the house, I climb out, then open the back door and grab the plate of crostinis I made along with the twice-baked potato poppers. I considered filming the process, but in the end, I left my camera where it’s been, in my bag, since I arrived in Parkerville.
The sight of Via’s car in the driveway relieves a fraction of my anxiety. At least my sister is already here.
Get it together. There’s nothing to be nervous about.
Except Glenda. She’s a loose cannon.
Heart beating and hands shaking, I juggle the dishes of food and use my elbow to knock.
It opens, and then I’m blinded by Ella’s excited smile. “Izzy!” She takes the food from me and ushers me inside. “Come in, come in. We’re waiting on a few more people.”
While Ella heads for the kitchen with the dishes, where I’m sure there is enough food for twenty more people than will be in attendance tonight, my sister waves me over to the couch where she’s chatting with a few other familiar faces.
“Not much longer now, right?” Via asks the heavily pregnant woman at her side.
For a moment, dread washes over me, but it’s tempered when I note the genuine smile on my sister’s face. She battled infertility for years before her divorce, and often, it can be hard for her to be around pregnant women or babies. But lately it seems like she’s in a better place.
I’ve offered to be her surrogate, and I meant it. We’ve talked about it here and there, but she says she’s at peace with how her life has played out, and she’s certain that when she’s ready for kids, she’ll look into other options like adoption.
And when it finally happens, she’ll be the best mom ever.
The pregnant woman rubs at her stomach, excitement shining in her eyes. “Six more weeks, maybe less.”
Across the room, Glenda calls out, “Six weeks gives us plenty of time to throw you a baby shower.”
The woman sighs. “I’ve told you, that’s not necessary. Just being here with you all is enough for me. Even if I can’t have the wine.”
“We want to,” another woman chimes in.
My head is on a swivel as the women volley back and forth. Their familiarity has already eased my trepidation about being here tonight. It’s comforting, this closeness they share.
I have friends in LA, but none of the relationships I have are like this. Most are, unfortunately, superficial and mutually beneficial. In fact, if I walked away from LA and my social media, chances are Finneas is the only one who would keep in touch.
Small towns often get ragged on, but in my mind, having such close relationships with other members of the community is special.
“Oh,” my sister says, turning to me. “Izzy, this is Jessica.”
The pregnant woman beside her waves.
“Cassandra.” Via points out the woman who joined in with Glenda about wanting to throw a baby shower. “Susan, Anna, Mindy, Tammy, and Lucy.”
With a wave, I give the group a nod. I’ve met most of them before, but only in passing, so I didn’t have names to put with faces.
“I heard you’re livin’ with Reid’s daddy.” Glenda’s drawl is unique. It’s not quite southern but not northern either.
“Where’d you hear that?” I ask, wishing I had grabbed a drink before I joined Via on the couch, if only to have something to do with my hands.
“Around. I talk to people besides this lot.” She points to the gathered women, brow arched expectantly. “Well, are you?”
I mimic her expression, though mine feels a bit more exasperated. “I didn’t realize it was a question.”
Smiling so big I’m surprised her face doesn’t crack in half, Glenda wags a finger at me. “I like you.”
Via gives my knee a light swat. “My apartment is small, and the inn was full, so Derrick generously offered her a place to stay.”
Technically, he was forced into it, but I have no interest in getting into that debacle.
“That’s kind of him,” Glenda says, eyeing me. “He’s a good man. Good looking, too. And single.”
Via drops her head back and howls with laughter. “Glenda, I beg you, please don’t try to set my sister up with my boyfriend’s dad.”
My stomach knots. What would my sister think if she knew I check Derrick out on a near constant basis when he’s at home? Maybe it’s wrong, but it’s damn near impossible not to. Daddy Crawford is hot .
“Why not? They’d be a great fit.”
The way Via shudders in horror stings. Not so much with hurt, I guess, but with disappointment. Though I don’t understand why. I’m not looking to date Derrick, and I’m pretty sure he’s sworn off the idea of dating altogether after how disastrously things went with my sister.
For the next hour, the group yammers on about how great it would be for Derrick to find a girlfriend. They move on from considering me as an option to naming every decent woman in a fifty-mile radius.
I stuff my face with food to keep myself occupied and to avoid uttering anything incriminating. As much as I’d like a glass of wine, I stay away from the alcohol so I can drive back to Derrick’s house. I don’t want my sister or anyone else volunteering to give me a ride home.
At the end of the night, I say my goodbyes to the ladies and hurry out to the car, but before I can make my getaway, my sister appears beside my window, forcing me to roll it down.
“Don’t let them scare you away. They’re a fun bunch, I promise.”
“They’re great. I’m just…”
I don’t know how to explain that I’m floundering. I’ve had my life figured out since I was a teenager, but now it’s spiraling out of my control. Then, to top it all off, I’m attracted to my pseudo-landlord. I’ve only been in Parkerville for a week, and I’m already making a mess of things .
I settle on “tired,” which isn’t exactly a lie.
I haven’t slept well in months.
Via’s lips tug down and her eyes shine in sympathy. “Is there anything I can do?”
With a smirk, I cock my head to the side. “Yes, Via, why don’t you get some sleep for me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated, but at least you’re feeling well enough to joke.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I insist, starting my car. “I’m going to go home and shower, put on a face mask, and vegetate on the couch.”
She arches a brow, her face lighting with interest. “Home, huh?”
“It’s a figure of speech,” I sputter, even as my face heats.
Laughing, she steps away and lifts a hand. “Go relax and try to sleep tonight.”
I hum and shift my car into drive. “Yep, I’ll try.”
As if I haven’t been trying for months. I’ve tried every herbal remedy under the sun and all kinds of yoga positions before bed. Despite my absurd attachment to my phone, I even left it in another room at night for weeks. Still, my quality of sleep didn’t improve.
I’m afraid I might be a lost cause.
“I love you. See you soon.” Via waves, taking another step back.
I give a soft “I love you too” before I roll up the window.
I shoot Derrick a text, warning him that I don’t plan to make dinner tonight since I gorged myself at book club. That way he can pick up his go-to artery clogging fast food. Whatever floats his boat.
His response is a simple thumbs-up emoji.
He’s not home when I arrive, which I expected. After letting Wonton out, I head straight for the shower, where I turn the temperature up so high I practically scald myself.
The bathroom is practically a sauna when I get out and wrap a towel around my torso. As I go through my after-shower routine, I quietly sing along to the music playing from my phone, swaying my hips to the beat. I spray leave-in conditioner into my hair and gently work through my long strands with a comb. My hair is past my breasts now, a feat I’ve accomplished without extensions, despite what rumors online might claim. I love my long hair, but there’s no denying it’s a lot of work.
When I’ve worked through all the tangles, I wash my hands and push my hair back with a headband so I can apply a face mask. The mask smells strongly of eucalyptus, and the charcoal color wants to adhere to my fingers. Once I’m finished, I scrub around my nail beds until they’re thoroughly clean, then I set the alarm on my phone so that I remember to wash it off.
I learned my lesson after I fell asleep while wearing a mask years ago. I broke out so badly that it took almost six months to get my skin sorted out.
When Wonton sniffs, I scowl down at him. “Listen, I know I need a pedicure, but it’s going to have to wait.”
He sneezes in response.
I finish up in the bathroom and change into my comfiest pair of pj’s—the kind of pj’s that are almost transparent and falling apart, yet feel so good I can’t bear to throw them away.
Downstairs, I find the house empty still. So far this week, Derrick has been home by this time. I tell myself not to worry. He’s probably working late or stopped for food or…
Or he’s on a date.
It’s an absurd thought .
Not because Derrick isn’t dateable. He’s the opposite, in fact. Fuckable, too. But he doesn’t date. My sister was the exception, and look where that got him.
Still, jealousy rises up inside me, rushing forward like a hot, uncomfortable wave.
My attraction to Derrick needs to take a hike. He’s not interested in me.
I’m probably feeling this way because it’s been so long since I’ve had sex. I’m just craving some touch. That has to be it. Right?
I settle on the couch with a bowl of popcorn—my favorite snack—and turn the TV on. Wonton jumps up and curls up next to me with his head on my leg. Nothing on TV captures my interest, so I end up scrolling through Netflix before eventually settling on one of my all-time favorite shows.
My love for Gilmore Girls has never wavered, despite how many times I’ve watched the series from beginning to end. Rory drives me nuts half the time, but my love for the small town and the mother/daughter antics keep me coming back.
Maybe that’s why I like Parkerville so much.
It’s like Stars Hollow in a way. Small and quaint, with unique people and town customs. Only it’s coastal and has more stoplights.
I’m halfway through the first episode when the front door opens. Derrick holds a bag from the local diner in his left hand, while he fights to get his key out with the other.
“Long day?”
The scream that escapes the grown man is so high-pitched, I wince. The keys finally come free of the lock and go flying over his head before landing in the bush outside.
He grabs at his chest like he’s clutching his pearls. “What the fuck is on your face? ”
“Uh.” I tap my cheek where the face mask has hardened. “A face mask?”
“That shit is scary.” He points at me, wearing an accusing glare.
“Scary?” I repeat while he searches for his keys just outside the door.
He finds them quickly and locks up behind him.
I fight a grin at his exasperated expression when he faces me again. “What’s scary?”
“It’s all gray and white and zombie-like.”
“Careful,” I warn, teasing, “or I’ll put one on you.”
His eyes widen comically. “Not a chance.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” I call after him as he heads into the kitchen with his food.
He doesn’t respond, but I do hear him shuffling around in there, opening and closing cabinets and then the fridge.
I focus on the show again, and I’m surprised when he returns a few minutes later and sits in the leather club chair in the corner.
The living room is the definition of cozy. The TV is mounted above a fireplace and is flanked by bookshelves filled with a variety of books and other knickknacks, including pictures of Reid and Layla over the years. There are several of Lili, too. It’s clear Derrick loves his family.
“What’s this?” He points at the TV.
“You’ve never seen Gilmore Girls ?”
It makes sense, I suppose, since he’s a guy, but I love the show so much I find this news downright blasphemous.
He shakes his head and takes a bite of his burger. Through a mouthful, he says, “Nope. Can’t say I have.”
Dramatically, I drop my head back against the couch and sigh. “Welcome to the best show ever. This is the first ever episode. I’ll start it over.”
He straightens. “No, you?—”
“Too late,” I say with a smile.
He glances at the stairs like he’s tempted to run away. Instead, he settles back, grumbling a little, and before long, he’s sucked into the show like I knew he would be. We watch three full episodes, only pausing for bathroom breaks and so I can take off my face mask.
“We can watch more tomorrow,” I tell him after I’ve turned the TV off and am folding up the blanket I pulled off the back of the couch halfway through the first episode.
“I don’t watch much TV,” he admits. “At least not shows, and certainly not in order. I’m usually too tired after work, so I only turn it on for background noise.”
He follows me up the stairs, and we pause in the hallway in the space between the master bedroom and the guest room.
“The bookshelves,” I blurt out when it looks like he’s about to take off again and disappear into his room. Suddenly I’m not ready to part ways. “Around the fireplace. Did you make those?”
His brows furrow, like he can’t figure out where I’m going with the question. “Yeah, I did.”
“I love them. The dark green paint works well in the space.”
He nods silently, the simple move effectively cutting off the conversation I’d tried to start and leaving us standing together awkwardly.
It’s like the confidence that has always come easy to me is sucked into a vortex when he’s around.
Wonton nips at my toes, startling me. “I better go to bed,” I blurt out, throwing my thumb over my shoulder toward the guest room.
He nods, stuffing his hands into the jeans he didn’t change out of when he came home. “Good night, Izzy.”
Once we’ve gone our separate ways, I dive into bed and burrow under the covers. On the other side of the quilt, Wonton scratches at the fabric before he circles and plops himself down.
After I’ve composed myself a bit, I respond to a text from Finneas, then plug my phone in to charge.
That’s when the master bathroom shower kicks on.
Eyes squeezed shut, I curse myself silently.
This might be the worst thing imaginable. Derrick, a few feet away. Naked. Wet.
With a shaky hand, I snatch my phone off the nightstand, navigate to the white noise app, and tap on the whale sounds.
Calm. Soothing. Nature.
But also water.
Water like Derrick’s currently standing under.
I clutch the pillow from the other side of the bed and cover my face. Then I scream into it.