When they walked out of the library, Beau looked both ways, then grabbed her hand and dragged her into the TV room.
“Okay, now that we’re out of the library,” he said, “I can congratulate you for real.”
He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly she couldn’t think about anything at all.
By the time she got up to her room, Josephine had emailed her back.
Hi, Isabelle—
Thanks so much for your quick reply. Are you available for an interview Monday afternoon, by chance? If not, I understand—just let me know what works for your schedule next week. I’m going on vacation the following week, and I’d love to meet with you before I leave.
Best,
Josephine
Monday. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach. That was so soon.
To make it to the interview by Monday, she would have to leave California the day after tomorrow. Probably the smart thing would be to actually leave tomorrow so she’d have time to settle in at home, unpack, and prepare. But there was no way she could leave so soon. The whole idea of it made her feel panicky.
Everything was going so well between them. They’d only had a few weeks together, like this. She wanted more. And she had no idea what was going to happen when she left.
They’d never talked about that. Their relationship had been purely present tense. Everything between them had centered around her living here, in his house, working together in the library once a day, being together every day for hours, rarely texting, because why would they, they were right there together. Even this morning, it hadn’t occurred to her to text him when she had news; she just walked around the house to find him, like she always did. The night before, when they’d had that not-quite-a-fight, they’d had an actual conversation about it and figured it out. How would it have gone if he’d just texted her and she’d sent him some bitchy text back, like she knew she would have? Not very well, probably.
But then, this situation wasn’t forever. She’d known that from the beginning. She’d tried to ignore the ticking clock for the past few weeks, but she’d felt it all the same. Beau was probably right when he said, that he didn’t need her anymore. He could write the rest of this memoir on his own and send it on to Marta. If she didn’t get this job at Maurice, she’d still be involved with it, as Marta’s assistant. Just at a distance.
Would that hurt, to still be involved in everything about Beau’s book, from her desk at her cubicle in the TAOAT building and not from her seat across from Beau in the library? To be cc’d on emails with him and his agent and Marta, to write him polite, professional notes reminding him to send in his copy edits?
Izzy dropped her head into her hands. She knew the real question was whether she would still be involved with Beau romantically. Whether this thing between them could or would survive when she left. Or was all the magic between them here, in this enchanted house, in the rooms where they’d talked and worked and fought and kissed and loved each other?
No. It was too soon for that word. She was just getting emotional, that’s all. She was freaked out about this interview, that this was all happening so fast, that she could finally get away from Marta and TAOAT and land the job she’d been dreaming of for so long. So instead of worrying about that, she was heaping all her stress onto leaving California and leaving Beau. She needed to pull herself together and reply to Josephine’s email.
Hi, Josephine—
Monday afternoon works well for me, thanks so much. Please let me know the timing and any other details. I look forward to seeing you then.
Regards,
Isabelle
Then she texted Beau.
Interview is set for Monday afternoon!
He texted her back a few seconds later.
Great. I’ll email Marta now. Michaela can get you a ticket to fly out on Sunday.
And now it felt all business again. How else was it supposed to feel when he had his assistant book her plane ticket back to New York?
She tried to push the thought aside—Michaela was probably far more efficient at this than Beau was; it was a business expense, after all—but the curt tone of Beau’s text didn’t help. That was probably just how he always texted. It’s not like she was all that familiar with his texting voice.
And then she stood up and started to pack.
Saturday morning was their last session in the library. Izzy pushed that out of her mind the whole time they worked so she wouldn’t cry. At the end, Beau took his laptop back from her and slid his notebook across the table to her like he always did.