Page 11 of In a Pinch

Turning to look in my backseat, I’m already dreading carrying all my shit inside. For how long I've been on my own, I should own more things. But unlike my best friend, I do not collect random wall decor. Candles? Yes. Bless this mess signs? No. Immediately, no. Grabbing my overnight bag from the passenger seat, I open my door and rejoice when my feet hit pavement for the first time in hours.

The path to Isla’s building is well-lit, and the chill in the air sweeps through my coat. Shit, even without the snow, this place is freezing. The air feels a little different here, probably because we are closer to the ocean, so the zing behind the cold hits a little different.

Setting my bag down, I raise my hand to knock on the door. I know good and well this woman is about to come at me with the ferocity of a freight train. The door swings open in record time, and once again, my eardrums are bleeding from the high-pitched screaming. But I can’t talk any smack because my screams melt and mix with Isla’s as we hug, jump, and then hug-shake. I almost forgot how much I have missed her; her friendship feels like home.

“Come in, come in! I am sure you are exhausted.” Isla waves her hand, motioning me through. The smell of lavender and honey hits my nose, and I feel at peace knowing I’m back with my bestie. “Do you want Cal to start getting your stuff from the car?” Isla asks, and a groan from me immediately follows the question.

“Can it possibly wait ‘til morning? If I have to look at my stupid Bronco for one more minute, I will literally die.”

Isla’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, so, we're feeling a bit dramatic tonight, eh?”

“Dramatic, starving, and never wanting to drive anywhere ever again. If I can just be a passenger princess for the rest of my life, I will not complain.” Realizing that I’m still standing in the doorway, I pick up my bag and shuffle the rest of the way in.

“Yeah, if you leave your keys on the counter, I can bring everything in before I head to work tomorrow,” Cal interjects.

“Still haven't figured out how to say no to working the weekends, Cal?” I tease. Isla mentioned his work has pretty much taken over his life lately. He’s still doing better than whenshe first met him. At least now he’s only a workaholic when he absolutely has to be.

“Working on it.” He closes the door behind us all, then makes his way to the couch and plops down.

The floor plan of this place is a dream. The living spaces are connected and wide open. The kitchen has new appliances and beautiful granite countertops. The living room is now a mesh of Cal’s minimalist style and Isla’s, well, Hobby Lobby style. The coffee tables are all clear of decor, and there are two plain throw pillows on the couch, making it look nice and neat.

The walls, on the other hand? Isla definitely went to Hobby Lobby. A metal flower cut-out hangs on the far wall with large, long mirrors on either side. Above the staircase hang pictures of Isla, Cal, and all their loved ones, with framed pictures of little sayings surrounding them. I have to say, they have done a great job blending the two of their styles.

Isla and I move through the living room, and I get ready to head up the stairs. “Hey, am I staying in my normal room?”

“Yes, there are fresh bed sheets on the bed and a towel in the bathroom for you. Once you’re done freshening up, come downstairs. We will get some food ordered and bust out this wine.”

Sounds like music to my ears.

My room has been my room since they bought this place. I landed in this room my first stay and have pretty much claimed it as my own by leaving random things when I stayed here. The place has one other bedroom besides Cal and Isla’s and a home office.

Walking past the office door, I round the corner to my room and drop my overnight bag on my bed. Grabbing my leggings and giant T-shirt, I head straight to the shower to wash off this road trip. The en suite bathroom is a big reason I called dibs on this room. It is so nice to not have to worry about someoneseeing you in a towel. Or, God forbid, you forget your towel and clothes, and then you're just stuck naked in the bathroom. The worst.

The shower leaves me feeling brand new and not so gross. I skipped a shower last night in order to get to bed early so I could hit the road sooner, but immediately had regrets. I’m surprised Isla couldn't smell me when we hugged.

Slipping on my comfy clothes and fluffy, warm socks, I head downstairs to join Isla and Cal. A pang of jealousy hits me as I head down the stairs and see them over the split staircase, snuggled up on the couch. Knowing good and well I am single to my own accord. Well, my terrible judgment of men. And on the odd chance I do get a good one? I panic, end it, and then regret it. Seriously, I have got to get my shit together. New life goal. Get it the eff together.

“Feeling better?” Isla asks as she peels her head off Cal's shoulder.

“A million times better. What’s on the menu for dinner? Tell me you aren’t cooking?” Isla is a lot of things, but a good cook is not one of them.

“Well, that was rude and uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn't,” Cal pipes in, raising his eyebrows, almost in a dare for her to argue. I just know he would come with the receipts of dinners she's mutilated. He, too, has been a victim of Isla’s cooking. I’m not even sure if you can call it cooking, considering things are usually underdone and not cooked at all.

“Okay, well, Monday I start my new cooking class. And since you have so many opinions on the topic, supposed best friend, you will be coming with me.”

The floorboard creaks as I come to a stop on my way to the kitchen, and I turn back to look at Isla. “Why am I being dragged into this? I can already cook.” My shoulders slump.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to go alone, and Cal got this for me as an early Valentine's Day present.” She pats his shoulder with a wide grin on her face.

“Yeah, babe, I am kind of thinking he got those as a present to himself. He is going to be stuck with you for life, and he is probably tired of dodging salmonella every time you cook chicken.” She doesn’t grant me a response, but instead flips me the bird.

“Love you, too, bitch!” I yell over from the kitchen as I pour myself a glass of wine. “Seriously though, what's for dinner?”

“We ordered pizza while you were in the shower. It should be here any minute,” Isla states as she turns back to look at the TV.

“Nice. And yes, since you asked so nicely, I will go with you Monday. I will clear my obviously very overbooked schedule. You know, being unemployed really is a busy time,” I say sarcastically. “Speaking of, Monday morning, I’m going to stop by Tyler’s office to get started on all the paperwork. I’m pretty excited to get onboarded.” And to not be jobless.

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