None of it has the same appeal, and I’m getting worried.
Mejor solo que mal acompa?ado, my dad said in that deep, rumbling voice of his after I caught my group of friends making fun of me behind my back.
Pain slices through my chest. When I was younger, I would roll my eyes and ask what website my dad stole his latest quote from, but now I have an appreciation for how he had the right saying for every situation.
God, I’ve lost count of how many times I wished he were here, dropping proverbs whenever I needed them.
Mejor solo que mal acompa?ado: Better to be alone than with bad company.
When the right person comes around, you’ll know it, I tell myself.
But what if the right person has been there all along and I screwed it all up because I was a stupid twenty-year-old who didn’t know any better?
That question has kept me awake since Dahlia returned last week, along with the what-if scenarios that could have happened if I had processed my grief the right way instead of isolating myself.
CHAPTER NINE
Dahlia
“Do you get cell service in that little hometown of yours?” my agent, Jamie, asks as soon as I answer the phone.
I wince. “Sorry about not returning your calls.”
Avoiding Jamie was easy after listening to her first voicemail, when she asked me how my planning was going for my next décor launch, but dodging my other friends’ texts and calls has been more challenging. Reina, Hannah, and Arthur—the three TV crew members I befriended on Bay Area Flip—send messages in our group chat daily despite me only sharing an occasional I’m still alive text.
While that statement is true, I’m not exactly living, so until I am, I plan on keeping away from everyone.
Jamie makes a soft chuffing noise. “I’m only teasing you. How’s the R and R going?”
Seeing that I got out of bed before noon, took a morning walk around the neighborhood, and helped my mom make breakfast, I’d count today as a win despite it only being ten a.m.
Look at you finding the bright side.
“Good. I needed the break,” I reply.
“After wrapping up that last season, I don’t blame you.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you doing mentally?”
I loosen my tight grip on my phone. “Some days are good, and some days are…”
“Absolute shit?” she finishes for me.
“Exactly.”
“I know life sucks right now, but things will get better. I promise you that.”
The ball in my throat grows larger. “I hope so.”
She speaks after a brief pause. “I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but a reporter reached out with questions about your breakup.”
My body turns to stone. “Oh.”
“My team gave them the response we approved together.”
Stomach acid bubbles, rising in my tight throat. “Right.” Besides Oliver and his family, Jamie is the one and only person who knows the real reason why my engagement failed, and I hope to keep it that way, regardless of how many times Lily and my mom try to pry the answers out of me.
“I re-sent the signed NDA to Oliver and your ex-agent just in case.”
My laugh comes out hollow. “You’re the best.”
“You might not be saying that in a minute.”
I swallow back my fear. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not the kind of agent who wants to bother you while you’re on a much-needed break, but the team at Curated Living has been asking a bunch of questions about the plans for next fall’s collection, and I can only deflect so many times.”
My breathing quickens. “Right.”
“They reported record-breaking numbers for your last launch, so they’re excited to start planning your next one.”
“Of course.” I clench my hands to stop them from shaking.
“The team wants to know when you will be sending the preliminary sketches for it. If you want to launch by September and capitalize on your momentum, they’ll need to start production before the end of February.”
I haven’t made it through this fall, let alone started thinking about the next, but no big deal.
Liar.
Panic swells in my chest. Every time I open my tablet to begin sketching, my energy levels tank, making me feel defeated before I have a chance to start.
“If you need to pull back for a season—”
“No,” I blurt out. I’ve been working with Curated Living for the last few years, and I refuse to lose the last partnership I have left. “I’ll get them the initial sketches before the end of the year, so you can go ahead and schedule our meetings for January.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yup.” I rub my pulsing temple.
“Great! I’ll let them know.”
“Awesome.” My heart pounds against my rib cage as I ask, “By the way, do you have any pitch updates for the new show?”
While I was originally optioned to film another season of Bay Area Flip with Oliver, our broken engagement ruined any chance of that happening, so I’m hoping Jamie can secure me a new network contract. I love my job, and not a day goes by when I don’t miss it and the people I helped.
“No, I haven’t heard back yet, but it’s only a matter of time before I call you with a new TV deal.” Her voice seems uncharacteristically chipper.
“Oh.” I fall back onto my bed. “Do you think no one is interested because the pitch is different from my last show?”
I appreciated the Creswells and their connections, which helped me land a show to begin with, but their tight grip on the production process left me wanting for more.
More control over the show’s narrative. More clients from all socioeconomic backgrounds. And more freedom to discuss topics like grief, loss, and big life changes such as divorce.
While I didn’t expect production companies to drop everything to sign with me, it’s been a few weeks already without any follow-up meetings.
What do you expect when your personal life has become an internet meme?
My eyes sting, but I blink away the tears.
After Jamie hangs up, I’m tempted to crawl back under my covers and fall asleep, but instead, I make a conscious choice to get up, unzip my luggage, and search for my makeup bag.
Un Mu?oz nunca se rinde, my dad always said.
And it’s time I remember how to live like that.
I don’t want to leave the house, but I choose to do it anyway because my mom and sister need my help with a large order of wedding centerpieces.
My mom’s shop, Rose & Thorn, is located in the famous Historic District on the north side of town. The area was adequately named after the brick-and-mortar buildings and surrounding cottage-style neighborhood dating back to when the town was first founded in the late 1800s.
The Historic District makes up the heart of Lake Wisteria. A majority of the original buildings are located within the five blocks, including the library, bank, town hall, post office that once used carrier pigeons, and a tiny schoolhouse the size of a shoebox. We weren’t wealthy enough to grow up there, but my mom was able to open up a tiny flower shop thirty-five years ago when my grandparents moved here because of a job.
It would be hard to miss Rose & Thorn with the pink paint covering the exterior brick walls and the fall window display full of red, orange, and yellow flowers of all shapes and sizes.