Page 1 of The Love You Win

one

ISLA

I wonder how many donuts I can eat before I feel sick?

My phone buzzes beside me on the couch for the third time.

This Boston Cream is really good. I can’t believe Alex didn’t like Boston Creams. Looking back, that should have been a dead giveaway that he’s a soulless asshat. And maybe foreshadowing that he wasn’t into eating creamy things. Honestly, I should have seen all of this coming the first time he went for a powdered cake donut back in high school. Who actually likes those? I think the only flavor more boring than powdered cake is plain cake. His second favorite flavor.

Shocker.

But ugh. The way he’d make that smacking sound with his lips as he tried to lick all the powdered sugar off them?

Gag.

They always say love is blind. Apparently, mine was deaf, too.

My phone buzzes again. This time, it doesn’t cut off after the short two-burst vibration alerting me to a text message.

Who the hell is calling me right now? What kind of actual barbarian does something like that? For the love of god, we’re not living in the twentieth century. Text messages are clearly superior because I can pretend I didn’t see them right away.

I groan as Jess’s name lights up in big block letters. I want to send her to voicemail, but that would be a mistake.

Here we go.

“Isla’s den of donuts. How can I help you?” A pause on the other end makes me grin.

“Have you showered today?”

Well, okay then. Going right in for the kill. “Hi to you too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, Isla. Have you showered today?”

I consider how to answer. I could lie, but… “I showered myself in donut crumbs. Does that count?”

“Yep,” my best friend says to someone, her voice growing muffled. “You were right. She probably hasn’t changed her underwear in days.”

Jesus. You forget to change your clothes for a few days when your life blows up, and your friends never let you forget it. Being unceremoniously dumped by your fiancé two weeks before your wedding for no real reason other than you’re suddenly not good enough should give you a pass for things like forgetting to change your clothes.

And I’ve been doing fine. Until last week. When Alex and I were supposed to take our honeymoon. The one we scheduled for summer vacation so I wouldn’t have to take time off during the school year. The bastard still went to Cabo. Without me. “Um, rude. I totally changed my panties today. I think.” I tug on the stretchy waistband of my grease-stained leggings to check the color of my undies. Navy blue.

Well, crap.

“Okay, so I changed them yesterday. Whatever. I’m not going anywhere today.” I was doing so well when I had teaching and my students to distract me. Sure, I was depressed, but with all the end-of-year testing and general craziness, I never had time to wallow in it. Summer though? I don’t have built-in distractions to keep me from spiraling about the honeymoon that should have been. Now, I’m this weird combination of depressed and pissed. I planned that whole damned honeymoon. But Alex paid for it, so he’s the one that got to enjoy the sun and sand.

Fucking typical.

Two sets of groans float through the speaker. “We’re coming over. Please take a shower and change your clothes. Don’t make me douse you in Febreze.”

“You know that stuff makes me sneeze,” I reply, offended. I don’t smell bad. A little ripe, maybe, but nothing a quick rub-down with deodorant can’t fix.

“You have half an hour,” Nevaeh pipes up.

“Seriously? You two are ganging up on me right now?”

Nevaeh’s smooth chuckle floats through the speaker. “That’s what best friends are for. Now drag your cute little butt into the shower, get clean and dressed in clothes you haven’t already worn this week, and brush your teeth. We’ll be there soon.”

I groan, but what my two best friends can’t see is the smile overtaking my face. Which is probably a good thing because I’m pretty sure I have chocolate frosting on my teeth. “Give me forty-five minutes.”

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