Thanks for having us for dinner again. I love eating supper with you. You should move in with us after your daddy gets better.
Love, Andi.
Ha! Well, it’s a sweet note, but we all know she just wants me for my dollhouse. Okay, that wasn’t fair. I know Andi likes me.
Before I read Nash’s much longer note, I search the pantry for cereal. We must be out of all of the good ones because all that’s left is shredded wheat. I grab the box, because even shredded wheat sounds good—as long as it’s topped with lots of sugar.
After making up my bowl, I put things away and take the bowl, along with the letter, back up to my room. Turning on my bedside lamp, I lean my back against the wrought iron headboard and wince. It’s not comfortable thanks to the metal flowers and leaves that poke me in the back. I tuck a pillow behind me, and now I’m good. Eating a bite, I chew as I hold up the letter close to the light.
Isabelle,
I’m sorry about tonight. Things were said that, I feel, you misunderstood. So, since you won’t listen to me, I’m writing what I wanted to say. First of all, you can stop thinking I only want you for one night.
“Yeah, he wantstwo.” I scoff as I take another bite of my cereal. It’s good. Sugar is the nectar of the gods.
Second, yes, your dad asked me to take care of you, make sure you were eating, but he didn’t say how to do that.I’mthe one that wanted to be there for you in the evening.I’mthe one that wanted to cook for you. And do you want to know why? Because I, we, (me and Andi) wanted to be with you––to spend time with you because we like you. A lot!
He likes me?**sigh** I guess it’s better than the alternative.
Honestly, I’m confused about us. You deserve someone better than me, but whenever I think of you with another man, I want to punch something. Hard. And the reason for that is because when I picture my life, you’re with me. Beside me and Andi.
Oh my God.
Nobody else makes me crazy like you do. There’s no woman alive that can hold a candle to your beauty, intelligence, sense of humor, and your smile. And your body? I may never recover from seeing you like that tonight.
I’m getting emotional. This may be the best letter I’ve ever read––let alone received. Well, until I read this:
With all of that said, Isabelle, I don’t know what to do. The time doesn’t feel right for us. There’s all of the unknown Ivy bullshit that’s happening. And your dad? What if he doesn’t want to farm anymore? Will you take over? If you do, when would we see each other? If only Isaac wanted the farm… No. The time isn’t right. Not yet. But, I hope, in the future, things will work out. In the meantime, I don’t see why we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. Andi loves spending time with you, and if Ivy thinks we’re still together, all the better. What do you think about that?
Yours, Nash.
What do I think about that? I’m crying now, and it’s not pretty. I’m full-on blubbering. Plus, I’m mad too. I mean, he ruined the best letter I’ve ever seen with that last paragraph of crap. Not crap––excuses. I mean, where do I start? First off, the Ivy “bullshit” is how this whole thing really got started because he wanted to prove to her that he’s moved on. Next, using the farm justification is worse. “If only Isaac wanted the farm?” What? Has he never been with someone who had a job before? I guess Ivy was the only long-term relationship he’s had so, no, until she fled for Hollywood, the only job she had was in high school at the local Dairy Sweet. I guess being in a relationship with a career woman is more than the macho asshole can take.
I hope, in the future, things will work out? Keep doing what we’re doing because Andi loves spending time with me?
“Well, me too, asshole.” Only it’s obvious they won’t work out withhim. I need to forget about Nash being any part of my future. I sniffle and wipe away the last tears I’ll ever cry over that man. “Focus on the farm, Izzy.” That’s what I need to do. My family needs me right now. After that, I can think about my options. Option one? Move far, far away from this place andthatman. Option two? See option one.
31
Nash
Isabelle has locked me out.Physically and metaphorically. She literally locked up the house so I couldn’t get in there to cook her supper. People around here never lock their doors. It’s just not necessary. But she did. It’s like Fort Knox now.
She also won’t answer my phone calls or text messages. Honestly, I think she blocked me. But why? I thought I explained everything in the letter. It makes no sense because that, my friends, was agoodletter––probably the best letter I’ve ever written. Ha! No “probably” about it. I practically poured my heart out in that thing. No, I didn’t write the word love in it, but it was implied. Right?
Damn, I wish I had a copy of it so I could make sure. Maybe she didn’t read the letter. It’s possible. It could have fallen into the trash or something. Although their trash can was under the sink, so that isn’t feasible. Maybe Andi set it somewhere else? No, I know it was on the counter. I looked back at it as we left that night.
I guess I need to accept that Isabelle saw it and read it and didn’t like what it said. There must have been something in there that made her stop wanting to see me or hear from me. At first, I assumed she didn’t reply because she’s been so busy, but when I stopped by to see if she needed any help with the cattle, she walked away and sent Ben over to talk to me. “We’re all set, Nash. Thanks for your help, but we’ve got everything under control now.”
I know she has it under control. She’s got the farm running like a well-oiled machine. Now that the harvest has been completed, all she has to do is deal with the livestock and plan for next year’s planting. I say “all she has to do” like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing; it’s everything.
So, yeah, she’s not talking to me, and it sucks because I need to talk to her. I need her advice. It’s also imperative we’re seen together in town. Word’s gotten around that she broke off the engagement. I’m not sure who started that rumor, but I suppose it could be anyone around here who’s seen us together lately. Ornotseen us together. No matter, Ivy got wind of it, and now she’s doubled, almost tripled, her efforts to weasel her way back into my life. I’ve had to put Shawn McMasters, the attorney Max recommended, on retainer because she keeps showing up at my place asking to see Andi, and my kid has been close enough to hear us. It’s only a matter of time before he gets involved with this.
The last time was yesterday. When Ivy finally left, Andi started asking questions. “Is that my mom again?”
I couldn’t lie to her. “Yeah, that’s your birth mother.” I reserve the term “mom” for someone who is loving and present. That’s not Ivy.
“Did she want to see me?”
