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“Break all your silly plans. It’s been way too long and I miss you.”
“I would if I could.” I’m not sure that’s a true statement, actually.
Isabel’s voice turns stiff. “You’ve got a hot date?”
I look at my watch again. Shit. I need to end this call in exactly four minutes to make it to the stupid panel on time. “No, I don’t have a hot date—not that it’d be any of your business, if I did. I’ve got an event at UCLA in a few minutes, and then I’m meeting a couple friends for dinner and drinks.”
Isabel sighs with relief. “Perfect. Yes, I’ll join you for dinner. Thanks for asking.”
“Not this time.”
“Oh, come on. Whoever your friends are, they’d be thrilled to break bread with ‘America’s Sweetheart.’”
“Nope. It’s a Boy’s Night Out. Maybe next time.”
“Who are the friends?”
“Josh Faraday and another guy from college you don’t know.”
“Josh Faraday! He’d love to see me! Remember how much fun you, me, Jen, and Josh—”
“That’s ancient history. Josh is happily married these days.”
She gasps. “Josh Faraday is married?”
I look at my watch again. “Yup. He’s married with children and living in Seattle. And I’ve got to hang up in three minutes to make my event.”
“Wow, I thought for sure Josh would die a bachelor, the same as you.”
“So did Josh. But the minute he met his crazy wife and her even crazier family, all he wanted to do was build a white picket fence with her. He’s got two babies and another on the way and says he wants to fill a minivan. Josh is so happy these days, I’d hate him if I didn’t love him so much.”
Isabel scoffs, and I know she’s aggravated to hear me use the word “love” in relation to Josh, when I’ve never once said it in relation to her. “Come see me after you’re done with your friends,” she says. “Whatever time it is. I don’t care how late you come, as long as you do.” She snickers. “And then make me come.”
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 want you.” 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 literally begging me 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.”
