My stomach tightens. If I didn’t know it before this call, I know it now: I’ve got no desire to hook up with Isabel again. And not just because I’m busy tonight. If I were as free as a bird tonight, I’d still say no. “If you’re horny, call some aspiring model or actor,” I say. “Fulfill your Mrs. Robinson fantasies.”
Isabel scoffs. “I’m not horny for just anyone, Reed. I wantyou.” Her tone becomes vulnerable. “I miss you.”
Fuck. How did I let myself get into this situation with this woman,again? Drunkenly fucking her at that party in the Hamptons was a felony stupid thing to do, no matter how much she swore she could handle a no-strings arrangement.
I look at my watch again. “I have to go, or I’m gonna be late. Travel safe back to the land of Maple Syrup. And congrats again on the franchise deal. I love being able to say, ‘I knew her when.’”
“Wait,” Isabel says sharply. “I need to see you, if only for an hour. I won’t take no for an answer, Reed.”
I clench my jaw. Oh, how I hate that expression. If I want to say no to a request, then I’ll say no. Unless, of course, the person asking me for something is my mother, sister, CeeCee, Josh, or Henn. Also, my housekeeper, Amalia. That woman can have anything she wants from me, too—although she’d never ask, so it’s a moot point. Clearly, it’s time to cut the cord, once and for all. “Isabel,” I say calmly. “It’s obvious this ‘whenever we happen to be in the same city’ arrangement isn’t working out as well for you as you promised it would.”
“I’m not allowed to miss you?”
“You’re not, actually. I certainly don’t miss you.”
She inhales sharply. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not. I’m being honest. I have no ill will toward you. No desire to hurt you. But the truth is I don’t think about you when I’m not in your presence. Which, literally, means I don’t miss you. And, clearly, being missed is something you want and need.”
“Yeah, I’m such a weirdo. Do you enjoy hurting me? Is that it? You get sick pleasure from being mean to me?”
“How am I being mean? You’re literallybeggingme to fuck you. If you had an ounce of self-respect, you wouldn’t be telling me you ‘won’t take no for an answer.’ You’d be telling me to fuck off.”
Isabel says nothing to that. But I can tell by her stilted breathing she’s holding back tears.
I soften. “I’m not good for you, Isabel. Never have been. Let’s walk away, once and for all, before you get hurt again, okay?”
“You want me to walk away before I get hurt?” she spits out. “Yeah, it’s a bit too late for that, Reed.”
I sigh. “I’ve got to go. Congrats on becoming a superhero.”
“Are you getting back at me for hurting you? That was a million years ago, and we weren’t even dating exclusively at the time.”
“You didn’t hurt me. Don’t conflate my passionate desire to seek revenge against a punk-ass ingrate with a passionate desire foryou.”
She draws in a shocked breath.
“You’re obviously looking for more than a sexual fling with me,” I continue. “And that’s not something that interests me. Not with you, not with anyone. It’s nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal?” she shouts. “Reed, I’m in love with you! I’m sorry if that’s an inconvenient truth, but I can’t help what I feel.”
For a long moment, I look out the window of my sports car at the cement walls of the parking structure, feeling angry with myself for opening myself up to this drama again. And for what? Some drunken, nostalgic pussy at a party. “I can’t fathom you’re actually in love with me, like you’re claiming. But if you are, then that’s your misfortune, I guess.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Isabel whispers.
I can’t help smiling at the question—the same one I’ve been asked by women my whole life. Shit, I’ve even asked it of myself plenty of times,too. Most memorably, when I stood next to Josh on a beach in Maui and watched him exchange marriage vows. And then again, when I stood next to Henny on my patio in the Hollywood Hills and watched him do the same. When I stood on a beach in the Bahamas and watched my baby sister, Violet, say “I do.” And, most recently, when I sat in a castle in France and watched CeeCee exchange marriage vows with a French billionaire, certain her third time down the aisle would be the charm, even though she and her new husband weren’t even planning to reside on the same continent after the nuptials. All those times, and others, too, as I’ve watched the people I care about promising their eternal love to one person, I’ve found myself wondering, if only fleetingly...What the fuck is wrong with me?
“This isn’t goodbye,” I say, my heart softening at the sound of Isabel’s sniffling. “If you need a date to a red-carpet event and you can’t find anyone who looks as good in a tux as I do, then call me. And it should go without saying, your secrets will always be safe with me. We started this climb together as kids, and I’ll always have your back. But if you’re genuinely in love with me, like you say, then it’s time for you to move on. There’s no happily ever after I can offer you, sweetheart. No ending to this story where I’m the prince and you’re my pretty princess, and we ride off together into the sunset on a white horse.”
Isabel sniffles. “You’re selling yourself short. You could be the prince, if you’d let yourself.”
“I’ve gotta go. It’s time for me to ‘give back’ to some college kiddies, all of whom are almost certainly plotting to ambush me with their music demos afterwards.”
“Reed.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you at all the parties during awards season. And when I do, don’t worry, I’ll always make sure everyone thinks you’re my ‘one that got away.’ Not the other way around.”
“Reed.Stop. Please. You can’t just?—”
