Page 72 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

Poppy giggled—that was the only way to describe the way she laughed, all quiet and shy, and she covered her mouth anytime it happened. “Well, that would make you a painter then.”

Mandy just shrugged.

“It’s like me. I’m studying costume design, but I already make costumes, so doesn’t that make me a costume designer? Just because I haven’t finished learning doesn’t mean I’m not already one. With art there will never be a finished learning moment, so when do we get to claim it?” She took another small sip and quickly brought her glass down. “I say we get to now. It’s not like being a solicitor or doctor or anything.” Satisfied with that answer, Poppy brought her glass back up to her lips.

But there it was again. The reason Mandy was in Europe alone. The reason her heart still hurt after all these months. Isa had to become a doctor. That was her plan, and Mandy couldn’t take that away from her. The air seemed to thicken as Mandy slid her finger across the glass clutched in her hand, removing some of the condensation, and she was immediately thrown backto the time when she and Isa had taken one of their little “trips” to get away from parental eyes.

They’d do that from time to time—make up a reason or a place they had to go so they could be alone and have deep conversations where they could stare into each other’s eyes or hold each other, which also sometimes—okay, lots of times—led to making out. It wasn’t as if she could help it; Isa was so beautiful, and the physical connection was something Mandy yearned for.

One time in particular though, Mandy parked her car behind the movie theater and slid into the back seat with Isa. That time it wasn’t to talk. Electricity had been brewing between them all day, and Mandy felt as though she’d jump out of her skin if she couldn’t just touch Isa. The way Isa grabbed Mandy by the collar as soon as Mandy closed the door said Isa felt it too. Isa kissed Mandy with so much force it sent tingles to her toes. She wanted, no, needed, to be closer—for their skin to connect. Mandy’s breathing was rapid as she trailed kisses down the front of Isa’s body and continued lower. Isa’s moans shook Mandy to her core as they took turns satisfying each other. After they were both completely spent, Mandy had to wipe her hand across the window to remove the evidence of their labored breathing before she could drive Isa home.

Now as Mandy stood in that kitchen, the backs of her eyes burned. “I have to go to the bathroom.” And before Poppy could say anything, Mandy took off. The air inside the flat was too heavy and warm; it was hard to breathe.

She pushed out onto the terrace and found a corner away from everyone, bracing herself against the railing—the cold metal biting into her palms. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Her chesttightened, and a tear slipped down Mandy’s cheek. She should never have come to this party.

“Mandy?” Sophie said before she came up next to Mandy.

“I just needed some air,” Mandy lied.

Sophie placed her hand on Mandy’s arm. “No. You just need to stop punishing yourself.”

“I’m not—”

“But you are. Look. I know you miss her, but you can’t change the past.”

“I should’ve stayed. I shouldn’t have come…”

“And why’s that? Because her dreams were more important than yours?”

“I could’ve waited.”

Sophie tugged Mandy’s arm to get her to face her, and then held Mandy’s arms in her hands. “You get to have your dreams too. I obviously don’t know Isa, but from what you’ve told me, she would never have wanted you to give up on your dreams either. You did the right thing. For herandfor you.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“And it may not for a long time. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to move on. You were meant to be here. You’re going to be a famous artist one day. Just like how she’s going to be some great doctor.”

Cold air nipped at Mandy’s damp cheeks and nose. “I miss her.”

“I know you do.” Sophie squeezed both of Mandy’s elbows. “I’m going to kiss you now because I care about you. And it’s going to feel awkward and wrong, but it’s something you need to do so you can press on, and it needs to be with someone who understands, okay?”

Mandy hadn’t even thought about kissing anyone since she left the States. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Isa had been the love of Mandy’s life—the person she confided in, the person she could be the most vulnerable with, and being vulnerable wasn’t easy for Mandy. She may have loved love, but she was always a little bit scared to let her walls completely down—except with Isa. Maybe it was stupid, but Mandy thought she’d never kiss anyone but Isa for the rest of her life. And now she was here—in Paris—without her.

Sophie stared at Mandy, her hands so warm, so steady on Mandy’s arms. Maybe Sophie was right. As much as Mandy hated the thought of a life without Isa, Mandy couldn’t stop living; she had to move on. So she didn’t say anything, she just nodded.

Sophie pressed her lips to Mandy’s. They were soft and kind, but she was right, they were also so awkward and wrong. Tears streamed down Mandy’s cheeks, but she didn’t push away. She stayed there with her lips pressed against Sophie’s until her chest tightened so hard she couldn’t breathe, and then she sobbed into Sophie’s shoulder.

Sophie tightened her grip around Mandy there on that balcony, holding her up when all she wanted to do was crumble to the ground. “It’s going to get better. I promise.”

As the crisp air stung Mandy’s wet cheeks, and her lungs started to fill once again, Mandy wanted so badly to believe Sophie, and for a fleeting moment she did.

Chapter Thirty-Five

December 2009

Mandy stared at thestack of magazines on the table in front of her. Not at the other people waiting their turn, or the receptionist who checked people in, but the outdatedUS Weekly,Vogue, andBetter Homes & Gardensthat had likely been donated or brought in by one of the nurses.

The chair next to her was empty. Everyone else had someone with them—their person who was there to hold their hand or support them or who knew who they were, but Mandy had no one, and she’d never felt more alone.

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