He takes a deep breath and says, “I’m not asking for forgiveness, and I’m definitely not expecting it. I just want you to know I’m here, and that I’ll keep showing up. And maybe, eventually, you’ll believe that.”It’s a good answer, but I still don’t know how to let my guard down around him. I can’t shake the memories, the taunting, the years of feeling like I was the invisible girl in a room he ruled. But maybe… maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s changed, and maybe I need to give myself the chance to see that.I clear my throat, taking another sip of coffee to hide my hesitation. “Alright, then,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, though the tension in the air makes it difficult. “Consider this your chance. But don’t get too comfortable. I still reserve the right to hold things against you.”He laughs, a low, genuine sound that somehow eases the tension. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”For the first time, it feels like the walls between us are a little thinner, like there’s a sliver of
IsadoraI wake up with a headache that feels like a small construction crew is hammering inside my skull. The first blurry thought that crosses my mind is that I should avoid vodka for the rest of my life. Then, like a slow-motion horror reel, memories from last night trickle in—the drinks, the accusations, the way Alec just… listened.And… oh no, his apology.I sink further under the covers, as if they’ll somehow shield me from the mortification boiling up in my chest. I don’t remember every detail, but I remember enough to know I basically spilled out years of resentment and anger right in front of him. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he apologized. Genuinely apologized. Just thinking about it has me wrestling between wanting to hide and wanting to face him.After a few more minutes, I decide on avoidance. I pull myself together, gulp down water with a side of painkillers, and grab my things, making it to the bookstore an hour early, hoping to lose myself in a mountain of books befor
“Molly?” I frown, genuinely thrown off. “What does Molly have to do with anything?”She sets her glass down, staring at me with a look that’s almost pitying. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t know she’s in town. She’s your ex, your old friend, whatever. Apparently, she thought it’d be funny to remind me just how lucky I am to have you. How I’m just… in the way.”I frown. “And you think that’s what I believe? Isadora, whatever Molly told you, that’s not my problem. She doesn’t know anything about us.”Isadora gives a half-smile and scoffs. “I know that. But you and I both know that people like her are only saying what everyone’s thinking. You don’t have to say it, Alec. It’s obvious.”I take a steadying breath, watching her with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. “Why are you so sure you know what I’m thinking, Isadora?”“Because,” she says, her voice a low hiss, “it’s the same thing you and everyone else thought back when we were kids. That I’m nothing. That I’m not worth th
AlecDinner with my new wife should’ve felt like a step in the right direction. A chance to start fresh, clear the air, build… something.So far, it’s felt about as friendly as a high-stakes negotiation.We’re seated at this little Italian place just outside East Hills. Warm lighting, candles on every table, music that’s soft and pleasant but not overly romantic. The place itself is nice—small but cozy, with the kind of ambiance that usually puts people at ease. Not tonight, though. Our table might as well be a battlefield.I glance across the table, watching Isadora sip her fourth glass of vodka and soda for the night. Her fingers tap against the glass, and her gaze stays fixed on the wall like she’s hoping the night will end if she ignores me long enough.“So,” I say, leaning back, “are you planning on actually talking tonight? Or is the silent treatment part of the date package?”She doesn’t even glance my way. “No one asked you to sit there and watch me drink.”I sigh. “You know,
I manage to shake off the residue of Molly’s words as I continue down Main Street, though her smug smirk and thinly veiled jabs still linger, annoying as ever. She has no idea who Iam now—or so I remind myself with every step. Still, a spark of satisfaction hits when I spot a chalkboard sign outside the local bookshop:Help Wanted: Part-Time.A bookstore! I could practically cry with relief. Growing up, I must’ve spent half my life finding sanctuary between the shelves and all their worlds tucked inside paperback covers.The bell chimes as I push open the door, breathing in the familiar smell of paper and coffee from the café in the back. And despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips.“Hello?” I call out, scanning the rows of bookshelves and displays, each one more enticing than the last.A middle-aged woman with gray-streaked hair pops her head up from behind the counter. “Welcome! Can I help you?”“Yes,” I say, trying not to sound desperate. “I just saw the Help Wanted sign. Are y
IsadoraJob-hunting shouldn’t be this hard, right? I’ve covered half the town, plastered on a smile at every place that’ll listen, and still… nothing. Luna or not, nobody’s hiring.The town square buzzes with life as I navigate through it. Honestly, I’ve missed this—the small-town charm, the shopkeepers who still know my name, the feeling of a community. But apparently, job prospects are on the endangered list here, and I’m beginning to wonder if this whole thing was a ridiculous idea. I mean, it’s not like Alec can’t afford for me to take my time. But I’d rather pull my own weight, thank you very much.I’m turning the corner past the bakery, eyeing a possible “Help Wanted” sign, when a familiar voice cuts through the street noise.“Oh my gosh! Isadora?”I nearly groan. That chirpy, fake-sweet tone could only belong to one person.I plaster on a polite smile, turning just in time to see Molly Walker—the high school queen bee from Starfire Hollow turned grown-up menace—grinning as she