Chapter One
Izzy
Findinga man who supports you in your career is not difficult. But in my experience, finding one who doesn’t at least complain about it after a few months is nearly impossible.
My now ex-boyfriend staring back at me through my phone screen is no exception.
It’s not a mournful emotion, realizing we’re no longer together. Hearing him murmur the wordsit’s overwas better than taking off a too-tight bra at the end of the day.
Judging by the pained look on his face right now, he’s braced for impact, assuming I’d weep over the news. On the contrary, I’m fighting a laugh by holding a closed fist over my mouth. Probably not the most appropriate response to getting dumped, I admit. But in my defense, a breakup over FaceTime is downright comical.
I’ve been brainstorming all week, trying to figure out how to let him down easy and end this myself anyway. The fact that he beat me to the punch is a hilariously ironic twist of events I did not see coming. I’m barely holding it together while I listen to him ramble on about how much better off we are if we go our separate ways . . . as if I need convincing.
I’m not sure why I dragged my feet so long or what I was so worried about. Hurting his feelings? A pointless concern, clearly. Here he is, ripping off the Band-Aid before I got the chance to slowly peel it away.
Hoping it’ll help fight the urge to laugh out loud, I take a cleansing breath of mountain air. My focus shifts to the frozen body of water behind my phone instead of his face on the screen. I’ve visited many parts of the globe and appreciate each one of them for their unique landscapes. But there’s something about this place that feels more special than most. Maybe it’s the solitude. No nearby skyscrapers or bustling crowds of tourists. All crisp air and snow-capped summits. It’s a quiet beauty.
The faux fur lining around the hood of my coat blows in the frigid wind, and I pull the zipper up to my chin in an attempt to trap what little body heat I have left.
“Don’t cry. You’re so emotional,” he mumbles.
The grating annoyance in his voice reminds me of the reason I wanted to break things off with him in the first place. One ofseveralreasons, if I’m being honest.
“I can assure you, I am not crying, Jonathan.”
“Your cheeks are red, and your eyes are watery.”
“It’s ten degrees here, and the wind is brutal,” I explain with a sniff as a gust of blustery wind threatens to knock the phone out of my hand.
I knew it was coming, but the winter storm is hitting much sooner than I anticipated. Sooner than my weather app guessed as well, apparently. It wasn’t supposed to pick up strength and completely blanket the area until the early hours of tomorrow morning.
Mocking the weather prediction, heavy flakes of snow pepper the sleeve of my plum-colored coat, making me regret the several stops I made on my way to my destination today. I thought I’d have plenty of time to peruse the area. Take somepictures and do some sightseeing along the way. It’s obvious now that I should’ve kept driving instead.
“Right,” he deadpans.
I turn my attention back to him with an unamused glare. His fresh haircut is combed back perfectly, not a single strand out of place. The collar of his dress shirt is crisp and white, professionally dry-cleaned most likely.
In general, Jon is a nice enough guy. Cuter than most. Successful at his corporate desk job. All generally desirable characteristics for a partner, I suppose. Unfortunately,controllingeclipses every redeeming quality on his list of traits.
I don’t know why I agreed to keep things going after we met a few months ago. It makes me feel a little stupid just thinking about it. In truth, I think my wildly delusional side took over.
When he drunkenly admitted he’d like to have a girlfriend, I thought maybe, justmaybe, I could finally settle down. I really thought testing myself to see if I could slow things down and commit to someone was a good idea at the time. A self-inflicted test, if you will.
The possibility of finding someone to spend my life with was exciting at first, but as it turns out, eight weeks was all I could take with a finance bro whose idea of a healthy relationship looked a whole lot different than mine.
“Sorry to end it over the phone, I guess. It’s just that we’re both goneall the time,Isadora. I can barely keep up with it. It’s exhausting. I want someone who’s going to be waiting for me when I get home.”
Gross.
My face drops at his use of my full name. He thinks it’s a power move that will demand my undivided attention, and Ihatewhen he does it. He knows that. I care less now knowing that I won’t have to correct him on it again in the future, though.My eyes close and I slowly shake my head, fighting to regain some composure.
Better to be exhausting than dull, in my opinion. And I’ll be damned if I’ll put less effort into my career to satiate a man who would like for me tobe home waiting for him when he gets there.
I could tell him to kick rocks and admit I was going to dump him anyway, but that feels like a bitch move. Better to just go along with it and let the chips fall where they may.
“I get it. No hard feelings.”
His head tilts and he eyes me curiously. “Really?”
