Chapter Twenty
Izzy
One week later
“What about these?” Simone says as she leans over the coffee table in my hotel room, reaching for the black envelope of photos that I printed a few days ago.
“No!” I flinch instantly, grabbing it just in time before she can get to it. Fixing my voice to have a more even tone, I try to play it off. “Those aren’t from the shoot.” I hug the envelope to my chest, protecting it.
Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head with obvious suspicion. We’ve known each other long enough that I can predict exactly what’s going through her mind. She’s a creative director, and we became good friends years ago after working on several different projects together. I purse my lips, knowing that she isn’t going to let it go until I either show her the pictures or tell her what they are.
“They’re from the Wyoming trip.”
“TheWyoming trip,” she clarifies.
I close my eyes, nodding slowly. “TheWyoming trip.”
“You already showed me those. They were gorgeous,” she points out, confused over why I’m hoarding the stack in my hands if she’s already seen them.
“You haven’t seenthese. No one has, if you catch my drift.”
She dramatically holds a hand up while picking up her glass of wine and taking a long sip. “Girl, you got freaky in the mountains with your camera?”
“Maybe,” I laugh.
Her eyes soften. “You really like this guy. If you didn’t, you would have just shown them to me, and we would have had a good laugh over it.”
It’s true. I’ve told her enough about my car breaking down and staying with Ledger for a few days, so she knows the gist of the situation. Maybe not all of the dirty details, but I think she got the hint when I told her I missed him.
I shrug, moving the envelope to my lap. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“Has he called?”
The smile on my face is instant and laced with wistfulness. “He calls a lot, actually.”
“Say less. Can I be a bridesmaid?”
“Shut up,” I joke, throwing the nearest pad of sticky notes at her.
My hotel room is a bit of a mess at the moment, with mood boards, photo shoot equipment, and overflowing luggage scattered all around. Simone’s stack of notebooks leans to the side, not far from tumbling off the cluttered coffee table. My print proofs from yesterday’s styled shoot are pinned to a random bulletin board that leans against the window. Our half-drunk glasses of wine have lipstick stains, and the end-of-day light filters through the crystal.
In the distance through the window, the Alps take up half the sky. They’ve been a perfect backdrop these last few days, butI quickly learned they don’t hold the same rustic beauty as the ones I left behind in Wyoming.
Simone stands, brushing down the front of her charcoal blazer. The puffed sleeves and rhinestone buttons are perfectly on-brand for her. She’s always dressed to kill on the job. I, on the other hand, have been in leggings and a hoodie since we got back to the hotel earlier this afternoon.
Her expression is calm, but it’s the fiercest I’ve ever heard her speak. “Girl, you’vegotto slow down and book some domestic jobs. Get a place to stay that isn’t a million miles away from him. You’ve wanted to find a new place for a while now anyway, right?”
I nod with a sigh. “Isn’t that a little premature, though? I mean, it hasn’t even been a month. I can’t just upend my entire life for this guy. I don’t even know what we are, technically.”
“Why? You’re not twenty-one and trying to figure your life out. You have your shit together, and the least you could do for yourself is give it a fair shot with him.”
“I don’t really see myself compromising my lifestyle for a man just so we will miss each other less,” I laugh. “You know this about me.”
“Yes, I know this about you,” she groans. “And I respect it. Believe me, I do. But what about for therightman? Babe, he’s not telling you to quit everything and give you his full and undivided attention 24/7, is he?”
I shake my head. He’s never asked me to change a single thing about myself or my life.
“Love and compromise coexist,” she adds. “You’d be hard-pressed to find one without the other.”
