Chapter 16 #2
Letting out a groan, I roll over on my bed and lean forward to grab my phone, which is sitting on my nightstand, fully charged and with the charger plugged in.
Funny, I don’t remember placing my phone there last night, let alone pulling out the charger and charging it.
But the majority of last night feels like a blur.
It’s my mom calling me. Surely, it must be urgent if she’s calling me this early.
I answer the call and lie back down. “Mom, it’s seven a.m.,” I mutter.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
I draw my brows together. “I’m okay.”
There’s a long silence before she speaks again. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I don’t think so?”
Mom expels a breath. “Ivy said you have a new boyfriend.”
I blink, still half asleep and not yet fully recovered from my dream. It’s way too early for this, and I haven’t had my morning coffee yet. “Ivy said what?”
“She said she saw you with him and you introduced him as your boyfriend. She also said his name is Jackson.”
Confusion flutters through my veins. I don’t remember Ivy being at the reunion last night.
“Why would Ivy—” I freeze. A spike of cortisol rushes through my body, and I jerk forward, sitting up straight and nearly dropping my phone.
The encounter with Ivy last night—that wasn’t a dream. Reality hits me like a truck, and embarrassment floods through me like an overflowing cup. If I was only half awake moments ago, I’m wide awake now.
I lift my other hand to my face, taking in the repercussions of what drunk Isabelle did last night.
Oh boy. I’ve messed up big time.
“Isabelle?”
I gulp. I should confess the truth before this situation escalates. That’s the logical and sensible thing to do.
“Ivy was saying she doesn’t believe you,” Mom adds. “She thinks you haven’t fully gotten over Oliver. Is that true?”
Pain twists in my stomach when I hear Oliver’s name and remember the vicious words he said to me last night.
But Ivy’s wrong. Seeing Oliver at the reunion last night with Veronica has only solidified that I’m over him. Maybe I’ll never get an apology or proper closure from him as to why he ended things, but that’s okay. I’ve moved on, and I don’t want or need anything from him.
What’s not okay, however, is Ivy thinking she knows everything about me. My body goes tense the more I think about it. Of course, she had to go and tell Mom what she saw.
“Isabelle? Are you still there?”
“I do have a new boyfriend. Jackson,” I say, the words leaping out of my mouth. “What Ivy said about me not being over Oliver isn’t true.”
And … chaotic Isabelle strikes again.
There’s a long pause before Mom finally speaks. “Right.” Incredulity lines her tone. “Last time you said you didn’t have any time for dating.”
I shift in my bed and plow on with my lie. “Yes, but … things changed.”
“Okay.” She still doesn’t sound convinced. “What’s his last name?”
I ignore the lump forming in my throat. “Um, Carter.”
This time, surprise highlights her voice when she asks, “The same Jackson Carter you went to school with?”
“That’s right.”
Mom saw Jackson in action during our speech and debate tournaments a few times, but I’m surprised she still remembers him.
“All right,” she says after a beat. “Good to know. We should have lunch or dinner together sometime. It’d be great for your dad and me to get to know him.”
Beads of sweat form on my neck, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I definitely should’ve seen this coming.
“Isabelle? Are you listening?”
“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” I say, trying my best not to sound apprehensive. “The only thing is … Jackson’s really busy.”
“What kind of boyfriend is too busy to meet his girlfriend’s family?”
“He’s also really shy,” I lie.
Mom clicks her tongue. “Are you sure you’re not hiding anything?”
“Me, hiding something?” I fake a laugh. “I’m the most transparent person ever. I’m an open book.”
More like an open book with pages that are slowly falling apart.
“So, what’s with all the excuses?” Mom’s speaking Cantonese now—a sign she’s truly annoyed.
Knowing my mother, I’m sure there’s no getting out of this.
“Okay,” I reluctantly say, replying in English. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Great. That’s settled. I have to go now, but we can pencil in a time later.”
With that, she hangs up.
I rub my temples, contemplating packing my things and moving to the other side of the country or even across the world. I might as well add getting into ugly situations to my résumé at this point. Not to mention, this is outside the scope of my deal with Jackson.
Reluctantly treading out of bed, I head to the kitchen, planning to make myself a cup of coffee. I’ll figure out a game plan for my sticky situation later.
On the way to the kitchen, I bypass the living room and stop in my tracks when I notice something seems different. Very different.
The piles of fabric that were previously lying around everywhere are now color-coordinated and arranged in a few neat stacks beside my shelf.
Footsteps resound, followed by Jen’s voice. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I say. “Did you tidy up the living room last night?”
“Nope,” she replies. “I went to get dessert with Aaron, and I got home later than you did.” Her eyes sparkle. “I think I have an idea of who did, though.”
My heart skips a beat as blurry images from last night flash in my head.
Jackson.
Jen gestures to my work table. “He left you a note, too.”
I head over and pick up the note, reading the beautiful, cursive handwriting.
Bella,
I ordered a new shelf for your fabric, which should arrive at your apartment early next week. It’s about the same size as the shelf you currently have, but let me know if that doesn’t work.
Jackson
Jackson always had neat handwriting back in high school, and that hasn’t changed.
But as I stand in my apartment, still holding his note, it’s as though something else has changed.