She broke her heart when she brokehis.
Neither would ever be wholeagain.
She didn’t stop until she reached the town car parked in front of the bistro. Hopping in, she shut the door and rested her head against the tinted window. As the driver pulled away and headed towards her hotel, she looked out of the window, but her eyes glazedover.
She had notears.
Notanymore.
She feltempty.
Defeated.
* * *
Izzie appreciatedthe driver for a silent ride through the rain-washed streets, but it did nothing to calm her down. Disconnected scenes and fragmented memories clashed in her head. She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if the gesture could erase years ofsuffering.
She had been clean for about a decade, but she recognized the emotions that could trigger a relapse. She fumbled inside her designer bag for her phone. Her sponsor’s number was the first one on the calllog.
“What’s up,gorgeous?”
“I screwed it up big time. I told you this wouldn’twork.”
Jim Evans was old enough to be her grandfather, which put Izzie at ease around him and was essential for his positive influence. He also didn’t give a rat’s ass about her celebrity status. Having grown up as the troubled son of an unhinged, dysfunctional movie-star couple, Jim had seen Hollywood at its worst. No one surprised him. Nothing shockedhim.
He was genuinely fond of Izzie though and became her sponsor when she started in the NA program. He had stuck by her side through struggles, small victories, and inevitable setbacks. His encouragement had helped Izzie move through the twelvesteps.
“The ninth kicks your butt every time, kiddo. You’ll manage, though. You alwaysdo.”
“Making amends is just the starting point with Tristan. I didn’t even get tothat.”
“You knew it wasn’t going to beeasy.”
“I had hoped it wasn’t going to be thishard.”
“Chin up, Izzie. You can do this. Now backtrack a little. Tell me what happened from thebeginning.”
She relayed to Jim the details of her meeting with Tristan. Every single embarrassing one. She never lied to her sponsor. That would defeat the purpose of having one in the first place. He hung on her words and coached whenever necessary. By the time she opened the door of the presidential suite she was in, Izzie was wrapping up the phonecall.
“We might be thousands of miles apart, but I’m just a phone callaway.”
“I know, and I appreciate you for it. It means a lot. Goodnight.”
When Izzie opened the minibar to get water, she eyeballed the miniature bottles of vodka, coveting the quick fix they promised. She grabbed a large bottle of Pellegrino and quickly shut thedoor.
Although her downfall had been cocaine, and resisting alcohol wasn’t normally a big deal for her, she was feeling way too crappy. Izzie knew better. Being clean meant abstaining from any kind of drugs, booze included. She poured the bubbly water into a tall glass and gulped down most of it, ambling to the opposite side of the living-room.
As the cool liquid soothed her dry throat, she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling balcony doors overlooking a dark bay. She opened them and stepped out, letting the night breeze wrap around her like a warm shawl. That was her first time in Florianópolis. When she had toured Brazil, she never played there. She was surprised to find a vibrant city sprawled across an island blessed by luxuriant nature, but one of the biggest revelations the city offered her was a Golden Gate-like bridge that connected Florianópolis to the main land. Tossing her head back to finish up the water, she contemplated the structure’s silhouette illuminated by fairy lights as the full moon shed a magical light down the bridge and theocean.
Breathtaking.
And sopeaceful.
Not at all the way she felt with a storm of conflicting emotions raging inside herhead.
Her mission involved so much more than her feelings orTristan’s.
She could notfail.
