By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(84)

“Ready?” he asked. “I put your suitcase in the trunk already, and I have coffee for us in the car.” He reached for her duffel bag, and she handed it to him.

“I keep wondering if I’m forgetting something,” she said. “But Michaela can send me anything if I did.”

Beau nodded. “Yeah.”

As they left Santa Barbara, Izzy looked out at the water and saw surfers on their way in to shore.

“We never got to go surfing again,” she said.

Beau squeezed her hand. “At least we got to go back to the beach last night,” he said.

She realized she’d wanted him to say that they’d have plenty of chances to go surfing together again. He hadn’t.

There wasn’t much traffic that morning, not until they got closer to LAX, where cars were all jammed up for the five miles approaching the airport. He reached for her hand as they inched along the freeway, and she held on tight.

When they finally got to the airport, it all went too fast.

Beau took her bags out of the car. She swung her tote bag over her shoulder and set the new duffel bag on top of her suitcase.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll text.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Beau.”

He took one step and pulled her close. “Oh, Izzy.”

They stood there together on the sidewalk for a few moments, the bustle of the airport loading zone around them. She managed to push the tears back. She didn’t want to cry, not now. Finally, she stepped back.

“You should go,” she said. “Before someone yells at you to move the car.”

He looked around. There was an airport security car just a few yards away. “Yeah,” he said. He stepped back over to the car and opened the door. Then he lifted a hand to her. “Bye, Isabelle Marlowe,” he said.

She held her tears back, and smiled at him. “Bye, Beau Towers,” she said. And she turned and walked into the airport.





Izzy hadn’t paid attention to her plane ticket other than to note the time and airline, so it wasn’t until she got to the ticket counter to check her suitcase that she discovered her ticket was in first class.

“Oh, Beau,” she said under her breath.

“What was that, ma’am?” the ticket agent asked her.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She took the baggage claim ticket he handed her. “Thanks.”

She managed to hold it together as she went through security, as she walked through the airport, as she waited for the plane to board, as she got on the plane and tucked her bags away, as she nestled herself into her enormous reclining window seat. The flight attendant came by and offered her a mimosa, but she declined. She’d never flown first class before, and she felt like she should take it, but right now, she didn’t feel the slightest bit celebratory.

It wasn’t until the plane took off and she saw the Pacific Ocean beneath her that she started to cry.

Thank God for first class, where she could stare out the window and let tears stream down her face for as long as she wanted, and no one would be close enough to see her. She was suddenly convinced she’d never see Beau again, that the hug outside the airport was the last time he’d ever hold her, that when she’d squeezed his hand as they pulled apart was the last time she’d ever touch him. Oh God, they hadn’t even kissed goodbye. They hadn’t even kissed this morning when they’d woken up. Their last kiss had been an accidental last kiss, a sleepy, quick good-night kiss the night before. Why hadn’t she made sure to kiss him goodbye?

She told herself to stop crying, that she was overthinking everything, that she needed to stop thinking about Beau, to prepare for her interview. But then she realized there was a packet of tissues at her elbow. She reached for it and saw the flight attendant nod at her. That made the tears well up again. She wrapped herself in Beau’s hoodie and cried until she fell asleep.

When she woke up, there were a few more hours of the flight left. She took a deep breath. Okay. She’d had her cry; now she had to pull herself together. She was flying back to New York for this interview, and she couldn’t waste the opportunity. Izzy pulled out one of her notebooks and started brainstorming interview questions and answers.

The flight attendant came over to check on her.

“Would you like a glass of wine, dear? Some cheese and crackers? Maybe some tea and cookies?”

Izzy smiled at her. Her name was Angela, Izzy saw on her name tag. “That all sounds great, thank you.”

She checked her phone when she landed. But Beau hadn’t texted.

When she walked out of the airport, there was a shout.

“Isabelle!”

She turned, and her dad jumped out of his car. She smiled so big she thought her face might crack. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed him.

“Dad!”

He gave her a huge hug, and she hugged him back.

He grabbed her suitcase in one hand and her overnight bag in the other.

“Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you,” he said. He touched her cheek. “You’re as brown as you usually are in the middle of the summer.”

She laughed. “Santa Barbara is beautiful,” she said. “I got to spend a lot of time outside. But don’t worry, I got a lot of work done, too.”