Page 2 of The Love You Win

Jess sighs. “Forty-five minutes and not a second more. And shave your legs. We’re taking you out.”

Dammit. I haven’t shaved my legs in at least a month. This might be a two-razor job.

“Where are we going?” I ask my friends as they force me to stand in front of my bathroom mirror. I apply a coat of mascara and a few swipes of blush. After staring at my pasty face for a minute, I can acknowledge I need it. Normally, I’ve got some color in my otherwise-translucent skin, but I’ve been looking more and more ghostly with every month that goes by P.B.

It’s how I measure time now. B.B. and P.B. Before Breakup and Post Breakup.

Before Breakup Isla always had her fiery red hair curled in loose waves that cascaded gracefully down the middle of her back. Before Breakup Isla had rosy cheeks that softened the smattering of freckles that dusted her face. She wore light makeup but always looked like she’d spent an hour getting ready. She smiled. Well, sometimes. B.B. Isla may not have had the perfect relationship—who does?—but she knew her place in the world and had someone to share it with.

Post Breakup Isla is a mess. She rocks stringy hair that air-dries in tangled, asymmetrical waves, pale skin that highlights dark under-eye circles and the freckles across her upturned nose, and nary a smile to be seen.

Nary’s a weird word.

Maybe I do need to get out of this slump. My thoughts sound too much like the Regency-era romances I’ve been binging. And those women aren’t allowed to get any until their wedding night. Even then, I doubt the sex was anything to write home about, so I definitely don’t want to live in their world. Hell, I’d be considered an old maid back in Jane Austen’s day. A spinster. A crone.

Even with the blush and mascara, I still look haggard.

Whatever. If my appearance screams bog creature or old crone and scares all the men away, then good-fucking-riddance. That’s what I want, after all. No more men for me. I’m determined to focus on my career and myself. When I started teaching, I had these big dreams of making a difference and empowering my students to pursue their passions. I was going to build them up. But after everything with Alex, I lost sight of that for a while. No more. If this breakup has taught me anything, it’s the importance of an unflinching support system.

I study my reflection for a moment and shrug. This is as good as it’s going to get.

My best friends give me a last once-over before turning to one another. Nevaeh’s full lips twist to the side, her springy curls bobbing as her head tilts at an angle. “Yeah. We’ve got our work cut out for us. I think you’re right. We should make her an appointment with Louise.”

I turn slowly to face them. “And why exactly do I need an appointment with Louise? I don’t need her brand of torture. No one’s petting my kitty anytime soon, so there’s no need to groom her.”

Nevaeh chuckles, and her rich umber eyes sparkle. Her straight, white teeth practically glow against her warm brown skin.

“We’re going out,” Jess replies. As if that explains anything. “We have a surprise for you.”

Her gray eyes narrow when my gaze slides her way, looking stunning and sharp against her deep golden skin. They’re up to something. I don’t like it. Especially not when her thin lips twitch with a failed attempt to keep a smile off her face. Jess brushes a strand of raven hair behind her ear and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow in challenge.

“You know I don’t like surprises.”

Nevaeh squeezes my hand, and her expression softens. “You used to.”

I did. I liked surprises once. But not anymore. No, I’ve had enough surprises to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. Something about being dumped two weeks before my wedding—SURPRISE!—sorta sucked the fun out of being caught off guard. Still, my protests are weak as they drag me out of my apartment.

We pile into Nevaeh’s car, and I stare out the window as she and Jessica chatter about their jobs, the disastrous dates they’ve gone on with guys from dating apps, and the latest gossip about their coworkers. I don’t say much of anything.

Being the center of Alex’s attention was thrilling. He was so confident and driven; he made me feel special and rare when he showered me with love and affection. But when that affection turned into annoyance and his attention became cruel? His words were weapons, and he was an expert at cutting me down.

Why did I let him get in my head?

I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong when we park in front of a cute dress shop that is way outside of my budget. That’s when the first swirl of discomfort hits me. My friends both have glamorous jobs with equally glamorous paychecks. Me? I’m a high school English teacher in an inner-city school. The closest I ever come to high-end fashion is when I splurge on a dress from Zara rather than Target. A place like this? It would gobble up so much of my paycheck that I’d be eating Ramen for weeks.

Nevaeh and Jess hop out, their faces bright and excited. They don’t even give me a moment to regret my life decisions before yanking the car door open and tugging on my hands.

“What are we doing here?”

Jess smiles brightly. It makes me twitchy. “You’re going to have a Pretty Woman moment.”

I frown. “You’re pimping me out?”

To Nevaeh’s credit, she tries to hide her laughter behind a coughing fit, but it only earns a glare from Jessica.

“No. Chris Hemsworth on a cracker. You’re going shopping. With my black card. Whatever you want, you get. As long as one of those things is a super-hot dress that shows off those toned thighs of yours and your killer rack.” She tilts her head and hums, eyes glazing over. “We should probably get you some sunless tanner, too. I’ve seen your legs recently. You could blind a person with those things.”

“Gee,” I say, following her into the fancy shop. “Thanks.”

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