Page 39 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
Izzy rises from her seat and approaches, sits beside me on the couch, then takes my hand in both of hers. “I didn’t believe it from the start,” she says. “I never knew about what you went through growing up, but like I said, I know how kind you are. I don’t think anyone who’s ever met you would believe that woman’s story.”
My laughter is bitter. “That’s not true, considering I’m a pariah now.” I squeeze one of her hands. “But I’m glad you don’t believe it.”
“Why didn’t you fight back? Tell the truth?”
There’s the crux of it. “The truth is that I told her our relationship was at its end, and she went mad. She swore she would end my career, that she’d use me as a stepping stone to advance her career.” I huff. “And she has. But…” How do I explain? “When the rumors began to spread, and I saw how the paps ran with the story, dragging my name through the dirt, instead of getting angry, I felt a sense of… relief, in a way. I think I was so stressed, living that life, that I saw an opportunity to escape and took it.”
She’s quiet a moment before asking, “Do you regret not fighting back now?”
I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her fingers. “No. If I had done, then I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”
Izzy leans her head on my shoulder, and the warmth that blossoms in my chest is more comforting than anything I’ve felt in a long while now.
“You need to figure out what you want, Asher. In your career, in life, all of it. But you need to be honest with yourself, if not the world. It kills me that people would think you’d do something vile like that woman says you did, but I support you not publicly contesting it if that gets you to where you want to be in life.” She tilts her head to look up at me. “If you want to leave Hollywood and acting behind, then that’s what you should do. But if not, you need to figure out how to get back to it. Save your reputation.”
Is it as simple as that? After all this time, just figuring out what it is that I want and making it happen?
Snaking my arms around Izzy, I pull her into my chest, wrapping her in a tight embrace as she does the same to my waist.
I may not know what I want from my career, but I do know precisely what I want in life.
To be with Izzy Ross.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I'm completely out of my element and worried to the point of panic.
Matthew had texted us all yesterday to say he’d be gone for a few days, visiting his family.
Earlier this evening, Asher left for a meeting with his agent, not knowing how long he’d be gone.
And Izzy is sick.
When she didn’t come down for dinner, I went to check on her, knocking gently on her door, receiving a mumble in reply. When I’d opened the door, the small amount of setting sunlight from the closed blinds did not paint a pretty picture.
Izzy in bed, looking pale and sweaty, wrapped in her blankets like a cocoon, groaning in pain.
I rush to her side, place the back of my hand on her forehead to find her burning up. “Izzy? Tell me what’s wrong.” My voice is panicked, but I can’t help it.
Her voice is strained, breathy. “I dunno,” she says. “I need…”
She trails off, and desperation overtakes me. “What, sweetie? Tell me what you need.”
She responds with one weak word. “Chocolate.”
The world stills.Chocolate?
My brain begins to whir. I don’t want to leave her alone. Do I have chocolate here?
The moment a memory of Halloween candy floats through my mind, I hop off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
Downstairs, I rummage through the pantry in the kitchen and grab the last unopened bag of candy before hauling it back to Izzy’s room, taking the stairs two at a time. Inside her room, I sit on the edge of her bed again, tear open the bag and start listing the chocolates inside. “Which one do you want?”
Groggy and breaths still labored, Izzy worms herself upright a bit, pulls her arm from the wrapped blanket and sticks her hand in the bag, pulling out a bunch of candies and dropping them on her covered lap. Once she’s pulled her other arm out of the blanket, she’s tearing the wrappers off the chocolates in a frenzy and scarfing them down like a reigning eating contest champion while I gape at her.
She does this twice before letting out a contented sigh that makes my brows furrow, more concerned than I had been before.
I gather her wrappers and the rest of the candy before excusing myself to go downstairs, where I toss the trash and pull my phone out of my pocket. I send Asher a few texts, but they sit unread before I get a glass of ice water and go back to Izzy.
