Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(5)

Just like she had then.





Two





Izzy





If you could be anything when you grow up, what would you want to be?

It was a question I would venture to say most every parent had asked their children, at least I knew it was a topic my parents had loved to visit.

Maybe they’d just always been hoping for a different answer.

Most kids typically responded with things like a doctor or a teacher or maybe even a rock star.

That answer had always come so easily to me.

I’d wanted to be Maxon Chamber’s wife.

Pathetic, right?

But that’s what happened when a four-year-old girl fell in love with the troubled boy-next-door. The boy who made her heart swell and hurt at the same time.

She became infatuated. She believed they were destined. That together, they made each other better. That they could overcome anything if they stayed by the other’s side.

It’s what I’d done.

I’d followed him around for years, nothing but a pest, nipping at his heels like a puppy, praying one day that boy would notice. I’d made up whimsical stories about him, somehow tricked him into a fake wedding in the meadow under the trees, and I couldn’t imagine a different outcome than that one I’d believed in as if it’d been prewritten.

Maybe it hurt all the more when I realized believing those things only made me a fool. Chasing after something that was never really there. When I realized that destiny was nothing but a fake, half-witted dream.

Only thing certain?

I’d never forgotten his face or those eyes or the heart I’d prayed would find something better, even when I’d come to accept that heart could never belong to me.

On top of that?

I’d never imagined in a million years that at thirty, I’d be standing in a dentist’s office, getting ready to beg for a job.

Praying no one would notice the tears that had been streaking down my cheeks. Praying even harder that the world might actually right itself, considering I’d never in all my life felt so off-kilter.

I had to pull this off.

I needed this job.

God, I needed this job.

That declined credit card was proof of that.

Panic still thunderin’ so hard I could feel it in my veins, I approached the reception desk. “Hi, I’m Isabel Lane. I have an appointment for an interview at 1:30.”

When I introduced myself, I pasted on the prettiest smile I could find, one that had never felt so brittle or fake.

Especially when my lips were coated in the same rose-petal pink lipstick that Maxon had just paid for, swooping in like some kind of devil or deliverer, I couldn’t be sure.

Something about it felt ironic.

The man being there to buy me a stupid tube of lipstick and not when I’d needed him most.

“Oh, hello, Isabel. You can go right in, down the hall, second door on the right. She’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, pulling in a deep breath and hoping it would pull in a load of confidence with it.

“Good luck.”

“I’m gonna need it,” I said.

On wobbly legs, I moved down the hall, trying to refrain from reaching out and letting the wall help me along, my heartbeat still a clatter, running wild from the mere sight of him.

Didn’t even want to admit the way I’d been struck by his touch.

The overwhelming rush of lust that had slammed me from out of nowhere.

So gorgeous I’d momentarily lost function when I’d found him standing there, like a vapor in the recesses of my mind that had suddenly materialized.

Foreboding and arrogant and imposing.

That was all mixed up with that charm and the stupid adorable dimple in his cheek, those two things far more dangerous than the others.

When I made it to the second door, I drew in a steeling breath.

I could do this. I’d have time to fall apart later, but right then, I needed to focus on what was important.

I peered inside to find a woman sitting behind the desk, dark, frizzy hair and readers perched on her nose.

I lightly tapped my knuckles on the jamb.

Her head popped up.

“Hello, I’m Isabel Lane. I believe I’m up next.”

I wondered if my smile was wobbling as badly as my knees.

“Come right in, Isabel.” She stood and extended her hand over the desk. I tried to remain steady when I edged inside. “I’m Helen Montoya, the office manager and head of HR.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I told her, voice wispy and thin. I was searching all over for confidence as I returned her handshake.

She almost laughed, her attention dropping to where our hands were connected. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

“Oh.” I jerked my hand away, realizing it was sweaty, and wiped it on my skirt.

Wow, was I ever making a great impression.

Light laughter tinkled from her. “Or maybe it might be this humid weather. It’s so thick, I thought I was going to have to swim to work,” she said, sitting down and gesturing to the seat across from her.

Fumbling, I sat down, adjusting my skirt and clasping my hands tight on my lap. “Oh, yes, that might be the humidity. I’m also a little nervous,” I added, peeking over at her.