Chapter 4
Isla hadn’t ventured outside since she’d brought the brownies over to Nolan’s. It only had to slightly do with the hangover she awoke to after her night drinking out of the bottle. But with Nolan right next door, and his damn car sitting in the driveway for the last day and a half, it was too much of a risk that she’d see him again. Luckily, her parents gave her time off from the family floral shop so she could settle into her new home.
She looked around the old Victorian house she’d inherited from her grandmother and sighed. “What were you thinking?” she asked, as if her grandmother would answer her from the beyond. She didn’t know the first thing about being a homeowner, but that didn’t mean anything. She was now the rightful owner of her grandmother’s beloved house. Isla just hoped she didn’t burn it down.
It was definitely a possibility. Only a couple of months ago she’d put her mom’s china in the microwave, not realizing the gold leafing would create a fire show worthy of the Fourth of July. What use was a plate if you couldn’t put it in the microwave, anyway?
She smiled, remembering the look on Grandma’s face when she had told her. Bless her soul, she tried her darndest to cover the laughter, but like her, it was a force to be reckoned with, and she exploded into amused giggles.
The happiness from that moment quickly slipped into sadness as Isla was smacked with the realization that she’d never get another moment like that again. Grandma was gone. She’d put up a fight against the stupid cancer, but in the end, not even Grandma’s positive outlook and determination could defeat the ugly disease.
A tear dripped on her hand, and she wiped her eyes as emotion overtook her. It was like this. One moment she was fine, smiling at a memory or going about her life, and the next she was consumed by sadness, spreading through her like an unrelenting storm.
She swiped at the tears and took a deep breath. Grandma wouldn’t want her to cry. Isla imagined her watching from above, shaking her head and telling her to buck up, Buttercup. She wasn’t the one who died, and she still had a life to live.
With one more deep, calming breath, Isla headed into the kitchen. It had been Grandma’s favorite room in the house. It was where family and friends came together, and Isla vowed it would continue to be a place where friends and family gathered.
The faint scent of brownies still permeated the air, which only reminded her of coming face to face with Nolan for the first time in three years. The way the hard lines of his chest outlined perfectly sculpted muscles. How his eyes were still the exact color of a blue daze flower, so bright and vibrant the color practically jumped out at her.
Seeing him was like an electric shock to her system — unexpected at first, then uncomfortable and painful. It was definitely not the reunion she’d imagined after he’d left three years ago. In her fantasies, she at least had makeup on and her hair brushed.
If only Grandma was alive to bear witness to the drop and hop. Then again, the stubborn woman would probably find some way to bring Isla and Nolan together. As devastated as Isla was for the breakup, Grandma was just as upset. She loved Nolan, though it was kind of hard not to. She’d always tell them she couldn’t wait for their wedding. Even after Nolan left, she’d still randomly say it as if somehow, someway, the universe would bring them back together.
Oh yeah, Grandma would definitely love every horrible second of this little reunion. Well, Isla would not think about it any longer. She had cabinets to go through. She opened the first cabinet and froze. She couldn’t imagine throwing any of Grandma’s glasses away. Every piece held a memory. Every piece was a part of Grandma and her life. How the hell was she supposed to choose between what stayed and what went? It almost seemed cruel to figure this out on her own.
She opened the cabinet farthest from the stove, the one that didn’t hold any of the place settings or wine glasses that adorned the table at the holidays. Her heart stopped in her chest, and her breath caught. Tears pressed at the backs of her eyes, and she closed the cabinet door, so she didn’t have to look at the World’s Best Grandma mug Isla had given Grandma for Christmas when Isla was in fifth grade.
Isla had bought it at a school fair with the money Grandma had given her. It had instantly become Grandma’s favorite. She used it every morning for coffee… or hot chocolate on snow days.
She looked away from the cabinets, not wanting to worry about the task. It was probably best to start in a different room, anyway. The bathroom seemed like a great place to start. She went there and opened the medicine cabinet. A row of medicine bottles stared back at her —a ll the medication Grandma relied on in order to get through the day.
A woman who was vibrant and full of life, reduced to an existence where every day she fought to survive. Anger rose inside Isla, and she grabbed the garbage with one hand and with the other she knocked the entire row of bottles in the trash where they belonged.
Relief spread through her veins, and she inhaled a breath, calming her rattled nerves. She didn’t want the disease that took Grandma to define the woman she loved with all her heart. Throwing out the things that invoked the tragic memories felt good.
“I can do this,” she announced to herself. “I’ll start with all the bad things.” Those things would be easy to discard, and from there she could tackle the harder things. Baby steps. Small, tiny baby steps.
She cleared out the medicine cabinet, only keeping a box of Band-Aids and a bottle of calamine lotion. A sense of accomplishment spread through her. Determined to keep up her momentum, she went to the kitchen, but once she opened the cabinet, any sense of accomplishment was gone. Tears burned her eyes, and she closed the cabinet door.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she said. Her phone vibrated with a text, and she scooped it up off the counter. Olivia’s name flashed on the screen. Isla tapped the text open. A picture of an accent chair bursting with beautiful vibrant pinks, greens, yellows and reds stared at her followed by a text.
Harper and I came across this beauty while looking for chairs for her place. We both agree it has your name written all over it.
It was beautiful, Isla couldn’t deny that. She texted back.
It’s pretty.
It’s the only one in stock if you want us to grab it.
Isla thought about the blue and pink floral couches in the living room and how many holidays she sat on those very couches. The chair with all it’s loud colors wouldn’t match the subtle and possibly dated furniture. If she got the chair, she’d have to replace the couches. The thought caused a lump to form in her throat.
She propped her elbows on the kitchen counter and responded.
Don’t worry about it. I’m not ready to buy furniture yet.
Liv wrote back okay , and Isla could almost feel the disappointment through the text. Ever since Isla told them she was moving in, Olivia wanted to redecorate the place. Luckily, Harper was in the process of setting up her sip and paint studio—where she would teach people how to paint while they drank wine—and getting ready for the grand opening, and had recruited Liv to help, or else she’d be showing up with paint samples and fabric swatches every day.
Isla wasn’t sure if she even wanted to redecorate the place. There was nothing wrong with the furniture that was in the house, and besides, even though she was now the owner of the house, the home would never truly be hers. She couldn’t just go and upend everything Grandma had done in the last fifty years. It seemed… wrong.
The sound of a truck rumbled down the road, and Isla pulled back the curtain to look. A moving truck stopped in front of Nolan’s house, and two men jumped out. Nolan met them in the driveway, shaking their hands. She watched as they opened the back and began to unload box after box, then a dark gray couch. Not exactly something she would choose, but it was masculine and fit the man she used to know.
Seeing Nolan and his couch was another reminder that while he moved on, she was still exactly where she was when he left. If Grandma hadn’t passed, she’d still be living at her parents’ house.
Nolan made a life for himself without her while she wallowed in the regrets of the past. She needed to prove to not only him, but to herself, that she was no longer the same girl who publicly accused him of cheating. No, she was a strong, independent woman who didn’t throw herself pity parties or reenact that awful day over and over as if that would change the outcome.
He turned and looked up at the window. His eyes caught hers, and she quickly yanked the curtain shut.
Baby steps, she reminded herself. Baby steps.