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She was packing up her stuff when her phone buzzed. She looked down at it. A reminder of dinner with her mother. Oh God no. She could not do that tonight. She could not. Unfortunately, her mother didn’t pick up when she called to cancel and was likely on her way to the restaurant.
Her mother had a bottle of Chianti on the table when she arrived at the elegant little Italian trattoria on Fifth Avenue that treated its Hollywood clientele with an understated attention to detail Dayla loved. Her mother gave her a long look, rose and kissed her on the cheek.
“We’re drinking.”
Izzie collapsed in the leather chair opposite her mother. “I might need more than a bottle.”
Her mother gestured for the waiter to pour her some wine. “What happened?”
The same as before...except this time she’d fallen apart in front of millions of viewers.
Her mother sighed. “Everyone has bad performances, Izzie. Pick yourself up and move on.”
“Maybe you were right that day in L.A.” She fixed her mother with a belligerent stare. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for the spotlight.”
Her mother took a sip of her wine and set it down. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” she returned in an antagonized tone. “I like being in front of the camera when I’m out on assignment. Anchoring...that’s a whole other story.”
Her mother sat back in her chair. “You don’t thrive in the spotlight like your sister and I do. And you don’t have the same thick skin. You thought I was being unnecessarily cruel guiding you away from acting, but I was trying to protect you, Izzie. The pressure to be always on, to always look perfect...to never be able to escape the public eye no matter how much you want to.” She shook her head. “It’s unrelenting. I may have been a terrible mother, but I never wanted you to go through that. You’re too smart. You have too much to give. Look at those stories you do out in the community. You were always one of those kids who was going to change the world.” She gave her a penetrating look. “Maybe that’s all you need.”
Izzie stared at her, stunned into silence.
“If you get that anchor job,” her mother continued, “it’s always going to be about how good you look for how long. A glorified popularity contest. A political tug-of-war that will never end. Sure you can affect change in that role, you’ll have the power, but it isn’t going to be about the story anymore. It’s going to be about your image.”
Izzie twisted her hands in her lap, wondering where this mother had been all her life. “I don’t even know if I want the job...or if it’s even a possibility anymore.”
Her mother frowned. “So why kill yourself trying to win a job that stresses you out this much?”
Because I’ve never stopped trying to win your approval. Because despite the fact that I told myself I didn’t care what you thought anymore, I’ve spent my entire career trying to prove I’m good enough for you.
She blinked back the tears that threatened. Her mother reached across the table and wrapped her fingers around hers. “Live with it for a day or two, Iz. You’ll know what the right decision is.”
Izzie stared down at her mother’s hand wrapped around hers and felt her chest constrict. “I can’t have you walking in and out of my life,” she said heavily. “It’s too hard.”
Her mother’s fingers tightened around hers. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that, Iz. Not anymore.”
Izzie’s phone beeped. Releasing her mother’s hand, she dug it out and saw that the message was from Alex. He had sent her another one of his quotes. Courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. Nelson Mandela. How are you?
Her mouth curved.
“Alex?” her mother asked.
“Yes.”
Her mother’s gaze sharpened on her. “You’re crazy about him.”
Her smile faded. “Yes.”
“So why don’t you look happier?”
She picked up a piece of bread and buttered it with elaborate precision. “We argued last night.”
“About?”
“His ex-girlfriend.” She abandoned any pretense of eating and laid the bread on her side plate. “His stunning ex-girlfriend he almost married who wants him back.”
Her mother gave her a long look. “Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t trust myself.” She’d proven that last night, hadn’t she? Her insecurities had cost her an anchor job and made Alex doubt her. Again.
“Maybe you should figure out why,” her mother said softly. “It’s clear you’re madly in love with him, Iz.”
She swallowed past the huge lump in her throat. “What if I’m not enough? What if he decides he’s still in love with her?”
Her mother’s mouth twisted. “Life is all about the chances we take. You can’t reap the rewards if you don’t put yourself out there.”
And hadn’t that night in London taught her that? Why was she having this huge regression? Was she determined to be a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or was her direction all wrong?
Her mother took a sip of wine and set it down. “You know how I remember you as a child? You were always the little daredevil, jumping off walls, falling off the balance beam, wild for roller coasters...” A smile lit her eyes. “Wild for trouble. You used to give us heart attacks. I swear I took you to the emergency room so many times when you were around six or seven they started to look at me funny.”
Izzie smiled. “My right elbow still aches on rainy days.”
“The monkey bar break.” Her mother looked down at her wineglass and twisted the crystal stem between her fingers. “I remember talking to your father after I left, checking in on you guys. He told me Ella was her usual ‘I don’t care about anything’ self, and that you were fine, doing great at school and raking in a bunch of athletic awards. But he knew you were hurting.” She looked up at her daughter. “Then he said something that made me very sad.”
Izzie felt her composure slipping, the memory of those awful first months trying to keep it all together, ones she never let herself revisit. Her mother’s eyes grew suspiciously bright. “He said he’d been talking to your swimming coach about your progress and your coach had said it was a shame you didn’t take risks anymore because you were good, but you could have been great.”
Izzie drew in a breath, feeling as if she’d just been socked in the stomach. She dropped her gaze and found herself staring at her mother’s shaking hands. Please not now. She couldn’t do this now.
“What happened between your father and me was complex, Izzie.” Her mother’s voice held a lifetime of regret. “I know you think I destroyed him, but it’s not that simple. Life isn’t that simple. And not everyone’s going to walk out on you. I promise you that. Take a chance on Alex. He seems like he’s worth it.”
Izzie thought about herself as that daredevil little girl. How that part of her had come out that night in London. And wondered if she could channel it again. Because her mother was right. Alex was worth it. And she was madly, head-over-heels in love with him.
* * *
Alex leaned back against the elevator wall, his mouth curving. It seemed like forever ago he’d gotten stuck in that elevator with the whirling dervish who’d transformed his life, but in reality it had only been six weeks. Six weeks to him finding his penthouse empty without her. Six weeks to the man who never entertained the concept of long-term doing it on a regular basis.
He’d had plenty of time to think on his whirlwind twenty-four-hour trip to Seattle. And he’d come to the realization that Izzie had been right about Jess. He’d been so busy being self-righteous, he hadn’t stopped to think how he would have felt if it had been her out to dinner with an ex she’d once been crazy about. No, he’d never given her any reason to doubt him, and she should trust him. But his ex did want him back. And that was different. He needed to tell Jess to find someone else to support her. He couldn’t be that person. Not anymore.
He watched the skyline of Manhattan fly by as the glass-walled elevator slid upward. His need to prove himself to his father was the root cause of his biggest failures. The question was, could he alter that pattern for the future? Could he avoid being a chip off the old block in all the ways that mattered?
The doors opened on the fiftieth floor. He was so lost in thought it took him three tries to punch in the security code that bypassed the receptionist’s desk through the back doors. There wasn’t one minute since he’d met Isabel Peters that he hadn’t known she was different. She made him a little insane—yes. But he was also starting to think she might be the one. That he might be in love with her.
His hand froze on the handle of the double glass doors that led to the executive offices. He’d sworn he’d never utter those words again after Jess had left. Did he have it in him to be the man who stayed when Izzie seemed to want to run every time things got tough?
He thought, perhaps, yes.
Head spinning, he pushed through the doors and headed toward Grace to grab his messages. Tonight, according to the heads-up James Curry had given him, Frank Messer’s accusations were going to die a slow death in front of America. Sophoros would finally be rid of him with the generous settlement Alex had put together to make Messer disappear forever this time, and things would be back to normal. Then he would deal with Izzie.
