Where had all this come from?
She poked her head out the door and looked from side to side. No one was out there. So she picked up the tray and brought it back inside the room and kicked the door closed on the way.
It must have been Michaela at the door, after all. Now Izzy felt bad that she hadn’t answered it. Michaela had come all the way up those stairs with a sprained ankle, carrying all this food. Izzy hoped Beau paid her very well.
She should probably refuse to eat this, out of principle or something, but she was too hungry and still too tipsy to be worried about principles. She picked up her half-eaten taco and finished it. It was still just as good, even lukewarm.
It wasn’t until she reached for her second taco that she saw the ripped piece of paper under the bowl of slaw. She pulled it out.
Sorry—B
Wait.
Was this note…from Beau Towers? Was the food from him, too? Did that mean that Beau Towers had filled a tray full of food and climbed up the stairs and left it at her door? Did that mean this was an apology? From him?
That seemed so unlikely as to be impossible. Granted, it was only a one-word apology, signed by just an initial, but still. He didn’t seem like the type to apologize to anyone, let alone someone like her.
She was too hungry, and had already had too much wine, to figure this conundrum out. She picked up another taco.
After she finished all four of the tacos, she sat back and realized how tired she was.
She yawned. She’d woken up at six this morning for no good reason, she’d been running on adrenaline all day, she’d had two glasses of wine and a huge meal, and all she wanted to do was take a hot bath in that big, beautiful bathtub and then get in that enormous, fluffy bed over there and go to sleep.
No, no, she couldn’t. She stood up and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She just had to pull herself together, that’s all.
But when she walked into the bathroom, she saw the bathtub again. And she could swear—she could swear—she heard a little voice say, “A bath is just what you need right now, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I actually do think that!” Izzy said to the bathtub. “But…”
Wait. But what? Beau Towers hadn’t actually told her to leave. Her new flight wasn’t until tomorrow evening. She didn’t have to go anywhere tonight. She could just lock the bedroom door, run a hot bath, eat one, or maybe all, of those incredible-looking chocolate chip cookies, read one of the mystery novels on her e-reader, and just…relax. Without her mom or dad knocking on the bathroom door to say, “You okay in there?” or to ask her to pick up groceries the next day, or tell her about what her aunt Georgia said on the phone that day. Oh God, that sounded amazing.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned on the bathwater.
There. She’d committed. For the rest of the night, she’d pretend Beau Towers didn’t exist.
“Happy now?” she said to the bathtub.
She’d clearly lost it. She’d just had a whole conversation with a bathtub, and she was waiting for it to talk back to her. She obviously needed a real vacation. Not like she could afford one, but still. Maybe she should stay here in California. She could just hang out here and yell at Beau Towers from time to time and sit in the sun and take baths and drink wine and read and write and be far away from her parents and only have to deal with Marta from a distance. What an impossible dream.
She looked around the room and took a long deep breath. She still had those cookies. And that glass of wine on her tray. Now that she’d committed to staying for the night, she could drink it. Izzy unzipped her suitcase and took out her favorite pair of pajamas.
Once the water was high enough, she stepped into the tub and sank all the way down. It was the perfect temperature, almost—but not quite—too hot, and the water covered her all the way to her shoulders. She could feel the tension seep out of her body, like she was a balloon with air slowly leaking out. And the tub was an old-fashioned one, with no extra drain to prevent flooding. That meant the water would stay right here, as long as she wanted it to. Incredible. She picked up her wineglass from the very convenient shelf right next to the bathtub and took a sip. Yes, her decision to stay had been absolutely correct.
Izzy woke up the next morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She squinted, bleary-eyed, at the room, at the very comfortable, totally unfamiliar bed.
Right. Beau Towers’s house.
She rolled over and reached for her phone. Oh God. It was Marta. Why was Marta calling her at seven in the morning?