I had a choice. I could do what she clearly expected and go away, leaving her to clean it. Flit away and sunbathe; check my phone and drink mimosas—or I could do what was right.
I made a mess, and I was perfectly capable of cleaning it up.
I got down on my hands and knees and started wiping. She eyeballed me, the heat of her gaze morphing from one of bemusement to one of annoyance.
After a few minutes of silence and almost an entire roll of paper towels, the floor was spotless and shining. I stood up first, offering my hand. She looked at it like it was poison and gripped a neighboring stool instead.
Her brush off stung, but I forced cheer in my voice. Kill her with kindness, Lay.
“Maybe this time the eggs will actually make it to the pan,” I joked.
She blocked my path, flicking her bangs from her eyes. “Jacob’s guests don’t cook.”
I clenched my teeth, struggling to keep my cool. I tried to hold onto the fact that I had to share a roof with this woman, repeating it like a mantra until it stuck.
“Well, I’m not Jacob’s guest. I’m his girlfriend. And I make a killer plate of scrambled eggs.” I held back the attitude that itched to break free, turning to the cabinet for dishes since she was guarding the refrigerator. “Okay...you whisk, I scramble?”
“Do you think you’re special?”
I gripped the handle of the frying pan, the question bringing fresh hurt from battling Rachel and my own insecurities to the surface. Her seething dislike of me shone a light on the part of me that worried the world would take one look at me and ask the same thing. That they would laugh at me as they answered with a resounding “No.” They would wield evidence to support their belief that I was just a phase; Jacob had dated drop dead, gorgeous celebrities and socialites, and he was trying something new by dating Jane Nobody.
And just like the rest, he would toss me aside once he got bored, or something better came along.
I would become just another guest.
My throat constricted. There was a reason this woman insisted on calling me a guest. I was disposable. Temporary. My fingertips grazed the wrinkled shirt I wore. How many pulled on his crumpled button down shirts after a night of screaming his name in this very house?
I glanced at Isabella, my heart sinking. One side of her mouth curled with satisfaction. She got her wish; the same thing all bullies hoped for—power.
The smile changed when she looked past me.
“Bambino!” she cooed, her chilly exterior changing instantly. I turned to the doorway, watching in shock as they embraced. He murmured something to her, eyes closed.
They clearly had a history and from the way his eyes flew open when he remembered me and quickly extricated himself, it was not something he wanted to talk about. He raked a hand through his sleep mussed hair.
“Good morning, Leila.”
I eyed them suspiciously. I knew who she was, but it was a little weird that he was not going to do an introduction—especially since he had hugged her like they were seeing each other for the first time in years. “Good morning.”
The faintest show of embarrassment darkened his cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking around. “Any coffee yet?”
Isabella sighed with frustration. “Your guest—”
“I am not a guest!” I said shrilly, clenching both hands into fists.
The exclamation was followed by silence, both of them whipping to face me.
Jacob squinted in confusion. He looked at me, then Isabella. “Is everything all right?”
Isabella glowered at me whenever he looked in my direction, smoothing it over when his eyes fell on her. I wanted nothing more than to tell Jacob how rude she had been, but I was no tattletale. I fought my own battles.
“Everything’s fine,” I said with a tight smile to go with my taut nerves.
All of a sudden Isabella acted like making breakfast was her idea, rounding up the eggs and swiping the bag of coffee beans.
Jacob strode to the island, leaning against it casually, but his eyes studied me. He knew me, and he knew I wasn’t being honest. After I pecked him on the cheek and slid onto the stool beside him, he dropped the investigation.
“So I take it the two of you are acquainted?” he mused.
Isabella cracked an egg with a flourish. “I’ll have to ask Blanka to come in the morning since I wasn’t aware that your guest—”
“She’s not my guest, Bella,” Jacob corrected gently. “Leila is my girlfriend.” He threaded his fingers through mine and brought my hand to his lips. The kiss was a whisper on my skin, echoing over me when I met his eyes. They were filled with stars, each one shining for me. The light pierced through the dark, bursting through my doubts. How could I hold onto my reservations, my worries when he was looking at me like I was the only girl in the world?
I cut my eyes over to Isabella, wanting to flash her a smug little smirk of my own, but she was not glaring at us with disapproval. The look she wore was a pained one, agony pulling her skin tight over her perfect bone structure.
Jacob’s face clouded when he saw my surprise, glancing over his shoulder at Isabella.
Catching herself, she turned from both of us.
Jacob pushed from the counter. “Isabella, are you—”
“Since she’s not a guest,” Isabella interrupted, whisking the eggs furiously, “I assume she can help me with breakfast?”
“How about both of us help?” Jacob said. He leaned toward her like he was about to tell her a secret. “Trust me, I’ve had her eggs.”
“Hey!” I elbowed him playfully, holding my smile until he stepped away to gather ingredients. I stole a look at Isabella, but she caught me and flashed a smile that almost looked real.
It was too little too late. She clearly had a problem with me and Jacob.
Not Jacob, I corrected silently. She has a problem with you.
Great.
Chapter Four
I folded my legs beneath me, staring at the screen of the iPad. Gmail was up, a new message waiting to be penned. I started typing the email address of my best friend, Megan Scott. I only had to tap out the first two letters before her information popped up.
My inbox was filled with email conversations spanning the length of our friendship. From reflective emails sent during freshman year and nervous jitters over my first college party; to crying into the keyboard as she consoled me after my first heartbreak and musings on life after college. Megan had always been the one person I could tell anything. My secret keeper, my loudest cheerleader, my sister even though we didn’t share blood.