4. Izzy #3
We all break into laughter, wrapping ourselves into patchwork quilt cocoons on the kitchen floor, eating pie and drinking cheap beer.
“You alright?” Sloane bumps her shoulder against mine.
“Fine, yeah.”
“She’s lying,” Zoe says, leaning forward. “Never seen her glare so much in my life as she did this week at the roses Jack sent.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I ignore the comment about the roses back at the store. “I’m just tired.”
Sarah and Maisie collapse, smacking their hands against the old pine boards, wheeze-laughing about something Sarah said.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but hearing them makes me happy and breaks my heart all at once. I’ll do anything for my friends or family, but in between giving everyone else what they need, I’m starting to wonder what I want.
Which is probably why my brain keeps latching on to the one person I shouldn’t be thinking about.
So when my phone vibrates with a text, my heart jumps straight into my throat. Funny how the universe knows his stupid perfect grin has been living rent-free in my head for the past week. I try, with all the chalants in the world, to possess none when I grab the phone and read the message.
Jack: Thought you’d throw them out.
Izzy: Almost did.
Jack: So, you liked them?
Izzy: Don’t get cocky.
Jack: Bad news on that front…
Jack: When can I pick you up for our date?
Izzy: Smooth.
Jack: Not the answer I wanted.
Izzy: But the answer you’re getting…
“Tired of wondering what it would be like to go on a date with Jack, you mean?” Zoe asks, giggling. “Wait, who are you texting right now?”
“No one.” I grip my phone tight, turning away.
“You aren’t!” she screams. She stands on her knees, ready to dive for my phone. “Isla Jane Sinclair, are you texting Jack Murphy?”
“Nope.”
“You filthy liar!” She lunges for me and the phone, and we wrestle until Sloane plucks it out of my hand with a smug grin.
“I’ve known him for a long time. The Murphys grew up next to my dad’s place,” she says. “Jack has a reputation, and I’m not saying it’s not earned, but he’s a good guy.” She hands me back my phone.
“Oooh, the bad boy with a secret heart of gold. You love that, Izzy,” Zoe squeals.
I roll my eyes, still catching my breath—from Zoe’s tackle, not from that dumb flutter that happened when his name popped up on my phone. “I have enough going on right now.”
“You won one date.” Zoe brushes back her curls, then reaches over me for the pie in Sloane’s lap and stabs another forkful. “Might as well let the guy spoil you for a night.”
“What makes you think he’ll spoil me?”
She shrugs as Sloane laughs. “Well, if you don’t want craziness in your life, stay away from the Murphys.” As if on cue, her phone dings. “Girls, Ethan’s ready for pick-up and drop-off duties. How are we feeling?”
The girls all groan, but it’s late, and as much as I want to stay up and hang with my friends, I know we all need to be responsible adults and go to work in the morning.
“You didn’t stay away,” I tease her.
A dreamy smile floats onto her face, and she tucks a piece of her long brunette hair behind her ear. I swear, if you look up “magnetic” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Sloane Arden. “Never could.”
“Well, the extra attention has been great for the store,” Zoe adds. “And now that you’re thinking of expanding, you should let him take you out for the date.”
I grab the pie, cutting a small piece to leave more for the others. “It was bad enough seeing my horrified face when I won all over TikTok.”
“Most of New England was horrified you turned him down,” Maisie teases.
I shrug. I don’t care about hockey. Or those damn dimples of his. Or the fact that he has a fuckboy reputation, which I’m not the least bit interested in. Not. At. All.
“He wouldn’t be a bad way to hop back into… dating,” Sarah points out, a wide grin on her face. “Guy’s got a reputation for a big—”
“No,” Sloane says, jumping up to her feet. “He’s my boyfriend’s brother and a good friend. I don’t want to talk about his—”
“Giant cock,” Sarah finishes.
We lose it. All of us, even Sloane.
Once the giggles die down, I haul myself up off the floor and help Sloane clean up—grabbing plates, tossing trash, and wiping down the kitchen counter. Anything to keep myself busy and distracted. I’m one hundred percent not thinking about Jack Murphy or his alleged big cock.
Though he certainly walks around like he’s more than confident in that department.
“Actually… I was invited to the home opener for the Breakers on Saturday night. Why don’t you come with me?” Sloane spins with a big grin. “Wear some red lipstick and fuck up his night.”
“As if he’d even notice me.” I throw the sponge by the sink, thankful the doorbell rings.
Sloane squeals, racing for the door. She throws it open, then launches herself at Ethan. He catches her, burying his face against her shoulder to hide a sappy smile.
Shit, the Murphy boys are inconveniently hot.
Ethan’s tall, tanned, and broad-shouldered from years of working on the family’s lobster boat. He also only has a smile for the woman who refuses to be set down right now. I give everyone a hug before they race out the door and somehow manage to pile into Ethan’s truck.
The silence settles back around me once they drive off. I finish tidying up, load the dishwasher, and try not to think too hard about everything that happened today.
It’s not until later, when I’m tucked in bed, staring at the same page I’ve read three times, that my phone pings.
Sloane: Say you’ll come with me on Saturday. Pleeease!
My fingers are quick to type “Can’t” before I delete it. Then I text “Nope” and toss down my phone on my duvet, not sending anything.
Sloane: I can see you typing…
I peek over to my phone, annoyed, then pick it up again.
Izzy: I liked it better when you were the new girl in town.
Sloane: Pretty please with sugar and a new book on top?
I grin into my pillow.
Izzy: Fine. I’ll go. But not because I want to see him.
Sloane: Obviously not.
And then a string of laughing emojis.
I set my phone down on my nightstand, turn off the light, and stare up at the dark ceiling. I don’t want to see him. I swear it. That stupid flutter when his name popped up earlier meant nothing. The roses were probably some PR move. The charity auction was just his way of helping his family.
I’m not going on that date. And after the hockey game this weekend, our worlds won’t collide anymore unless necessary. Like if Ethan and Sloane get married.
Maybe then.
Only then.
Damn it. I don’t even believe myself.