She picked up a cinnamon roll from the pan next to him on top of the stove. They were still warm. She looked up at him as she thought about how to respond to what he’d said. He looked at her intently as he waited.
“Yesterday you promised me you’d never treat me like that again.” He started to say something, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m still here because I believed you. And if I ever feel like you’re doing anything—even unintentionally—to break that promise, I’ll tell you. Okay?”
He suddenly looked lighter. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
She smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”
He smiled back. He picked up a cinnamon roll and pulled off a piece of it. He popped the bite into his mouth and then licked the frosting off his finger. She suddenly realized they were standing very close. Closer than they’d been since…
He took a step closer to her. “Isabelle.”
She liked when he said her name like that, all low voiced and sleepy and a little growly. When did she start liking that? She hadn’t liked it before, had she? Had she liked it when he’d done that at the very beginning?
She had. Of course she had.
She took a step back. “So, um, where’s your laptop?”
He dropped his hand. “In the library.”
She reached for the coffeepot and filled up her mug. “Let’s go to the library, then.”
Izzy had worried that the library would be tainted for her after their fight in here yesterday, but as soon as she walked in, it felt like the room welcomed her back in, like a friend who had been gone too long. It felt like the walls, the shelves, the chairs had known she would be back, had been cheering for her the whole time, were cheering for Beau now. She sat down in the chair she always sat in, and felt the way they settled in together. It felt like a hug.
She laughed at herself. Was she anthropomorphizing furniture again? It’s not actually hugging you, Izzy!
Beau set his laptop in front of her, and she scooted the chair in closer to the table.
“That’s it, that’s everything I told you last night, and a little bit more. Maybe this is weird, but, um, I just wrote it like I was writing it to you. I didn’t change that as I typed it up, I was too worried that I’d trash it. It’s…It was easier to write it like that, somehow.”
She looked across the table at him, not sure what to say.
“I’m really glad that made it easier. But also.” She gestured to the notebook on the table. “I don’t think I can trust you alone with this overnight again, can I?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
They grinned at each other.
Then Izzy turned to the laptop screen.
Beau jumped up, like he hadn’t done since the first time she’d read his work. “I’m not going to go outside again, I’m just going to, um, go over there.” He pointed to the far side of the library. “I’ll look at some books, otherwise I might, like, stare at you too much.”
Izzy laughed. “Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
Once Beau was at the other end of the room, Izzy concentrated on what he’d written. It was rough, more so than other parts of the book he’d shown her, but it also felt more honest. More like him. She made a few notes, asked a few questions, but she held on to her biggest question.
“I’m done, you can come back now,” she said.
Beau came back so quickly she knew the book in his hands hadn’t distracted him at all.
“I was just reading some…” He looked down at the book he was holding. “Russian literature.”
She tried not to smile. “Russian literature?”
He nodded very quickly. “Oh yeah, totally, all the greats, you learn so much from them about writing, and life, and um, vodka.”
They both burst out laughing. Beau put the book down at the end of the table and sat down across from Izzy.
She pushed the laptop across to him. This was where they usually just sat in silence while he read her notes, but this time she started talking.
“I only had a few notes that I put in there—like you said, it was mostly what you told me last night. I’m glad you wrote it when it was fresh in your mind, it made it have that same urgency, that same honesty that it did when you told me. There’s a lot you can expand on, of course, and this is going to bleed out into a lot more of the book, but I’m sure you know that.” He nodded as he listened to her. “But I had one big question that I didn’t put in there, and I wanted to ask you.”
He let out a big breath. “Okay. Ask.”
Would he get mad if she asked him this? She didn’t think so, but she supposed if he did, it was good to know that now.
“You said last night that you haven’t talked to your mom about all this.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“But yesterday,” she said, “you sat outside and waited for me to come back so you could apologize to me. How long did you sit there, anyway?”
He looked down. “I don’t know, an hour? I wasn’t sure what to do—I don’t have your number, it’s not like I’ve ever had to text you, we live in the same house. I knew Michaela had it, and I almost texted her. I decided I would have, if it got dark before you got home, and it was getting there when you drove up.” He sighed. “But that wasn’t your point. What you meant was, I sat there and waited for you so I could apologize to you right away—why have I waited all this time to talk to my mom? Wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “Sort of, but I wasn’t going to say it quite like that. I mean, I get it, you’ve barely known me a month, it’s not a big deal; your mom is a different story.”
He looked right at her. “It was a big deal, Isabelle. You’re a big deal to me.”
She met his eyes and then looked away. “I…But—” She didn’t know what to say. This conversation was suddenly a lot more than she’d bargained for.
“But yes, I get what you mean,” he said. “It’s different. But I think part of why I sat there and waited for you—part of why I knew I had to talk to you—was because I know how bad it feels not to do it right away, I know how bad it feels to wait until it’s too late. I knew that if I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I was as soon as I could, I’d regret it forever.”
She looked at him, and she could see the sincerity in his eyes.
“Then don’t you think you’ve waited long enough, to talk to your mom?” she asked him. “Just think how much better you’ll feel afterward.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re right. Of course you are. But also. Does it have to be today? I can only deal with like, one hard conversation a month, and that’s pushing it, and so far there have been four in less than twenty-four hours. I’m sort of reaching a breaking point here.”
She laughed, and he did, too, even though she was pretty sure they both knew he wasn’t kidding.
“How about this?” she said. “How about you text her and ask if you can find a time to come see her. That way, you’ve done the hardest thing, and you’ll have a plan, and you won’t have to think about it for a while.”
He looked down at the table. “That’s a good idea,” he finally said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I usually don’t even have this with me.” He unlocked the phone and scrolled through it. “I don’t know what to say to her, though.”
Izzy smiled at him. “Yes you do.”
He looked at her, then down at his phone. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He typed quickly with his thumbs. “There.” He lifted his head, a terrified look on his face. “It’s done.”
She smiled at him. “Good. Also, you should probably have my number, just in case.”
He pushed his phone across the table to her. “Good idea.”
She added her number to his phone and pushed the phone back to him. He stared at his phone for a second, and his eyes widened.
“What if she doesn’t text me back?”
The age-old question.
“I think we need to fill the next few hours with something that makes it impossible for you to check your phone compulsively.” She stood up. “Do you want to teach me to surf some more?”
His face relaxed. “Absolutely.”
As they drove toward the beach, she looked out at the horizon. It was still overcast and drizzly and windier than the day before. It didn’t feel like the best day for surfing. Especially when she remembered how hard it had been the last time, when the weather was much calmer.
“Maybe we should just…sit on the beach, instead of surfing?”
Beau laughed. “Oh, you’re not getting out of this so easily. You said surfing, we’re going to surf today.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and his voice got more serious. “The surf isn’t too high for you today; I checked. And I’ll be right there. But if you really don’t want to go, we don’t have to. Whatever you want to do.”
Did she still trust him, after the past few days? She shouldn’t. She still felt wary of him, she knew that. And it shouldn’t reassure her when he said he’d be right there. But it did.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We can try it, at least.”
They got down to the beach and went back to the surf shop. The same blond woman was there from last time, and she greeted them both.