“Yeah, I’ve seen how getting along with you plays out before. Spoiler alert: Disappointing ending. So, hard pass.”
“That’s not…” I start.
“What? True?” Izzy fires back.
My brain is trying so hard to sober up, but there is far too much alcohol for that to happen, even when faced with the wrath of Izzy.
Izzy continues, “Because a string of unanswered texts, calls, and even a fucking letter beg to differ.” She pushes the friend next to her out of the booth. “I’m going to the bathroom. Fuck off before I get back.”
“I…well, okay,” I say lamely, turning back in my seat, noticing for the first time that my favorite bodyguard, Nash, is sitting in the booth next to me.
I take one look at the sympathetic cringe on his face and want to vomit.
“Nice timing,” I say, pulling out my wallet to pay. If Izzy doesn’t want me here, then maybe I should leave.
Nash chuckles. “I fortunately made it just in time to catch the really good parts.”
“Fuck you,” I say, but there’s no heat in it. I know this is on me. Izzy has every right to be mad.
Carter offers me a smile that’s so full of pity I can barely stand it. “Are you really going to leave it at that?”
“She doesn’t want to talk to me. It was the same when I saw her for those two minutes in Australia. I’m not going to force my company on her,” I say, staring at the door to the bathroom.
Carter stares as well before letting out a sigh. “Since I’m here as your friend, not your employee, I’m going to tell you this: letting Izzy steamroll you with her anger is a mistake. You need to talk to her. She needs you to talk to her. I understand why she doesn’t like to even hear your name, but it’s been fifteen years. She needs to move on. You both do.”
I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad. “She can’t hear my name?”
Carter nods once. “Her family goes out of their way to avoid ever mentioning you. The town even stopped playing music stations that you were on because she started crying once when she was home from college and heard your song on the radio.”
Fuck. I can barely think past the guilt rushing through my bloodstream as a mental image of teenage Izzy forms, sitting in the coffee shop, tears dripping onto her chocolate chip cookie as my first single plays.
I’m a fucking asshole.
“I may be wrong, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who made millions of dollars off the lyrics ‘second chances are rare.’”
Staring at me like he expected quoting my own song to me would work, Carter finally gives up and sighs. “Just go talk to her.” He nods toward the door Izzy is now walking out of. “No one uses the patio outside, but the door is always unlocked.”
I stand, not giving myself time to rethink what I’m about to do. About the immense amount of groveling that needs to be done.
Izzy’s eyes narrow as I step into her path, blocking her way back to her table. The one I now know contains Izzy’s two sisters, Bryn and Kelsey; Kelsey’s employee, Lila; Becca Montgomery, another one of Izzy’s friends; and a man I’ve never met before.
“Can we please talk?” I ask her, pulling on the back of my neck as if that will ease the deep discomfort I’m feeling.
“No,” she says firmly, making to step around me.
I step sideways to block her, doing my best not to draw the attention.
“Please, Iz,” I ask again, my voice soft. “I just…I need to apologize.”
“No,” she repeats.
The Izzy I knew back in high school was unaware that “no” was a complete sentence. She’d ramble an explanation untilshe eventually worked herself around to a yes. Even though it’s actively keeping me from my goals now, I can’t help the little spark of pride that blooms to life in my chest.
Realizing I might have to draw attention to myself to get her to agree, I plead loudly, “Please, Iz?”
I guess I’ll need my security team, after all.
As I start to drop to my knees to fully commit to the begging, she grabs my arm, stopping my downward movement. “Fine. Fine! But don’t call me Iz. Only my friends call me that.”
