Chapter Thirty-Two

January 2015

The new ring on Mandy's finger was too big, and she had to bend her hand awkwardly to make sure it didn't fall off. After a round of champagne flutes were passed out and loads of congratulations were patted onto Edmund's shoulders, he had to get back to the office to finish up a few things, and Mandy had to pretend she wasn't completely undone by how the evening transformed. Aziz was beyond excited when the rush of euphoria in the room translated into all her paintings being sold. Admittedly Mandy should've been pleased too. Ecstatic even. And while she wasn't unhappy, something was missing.

"Congratulations."

Mandy didn't need to turn around to know that voice, and a rush of tingles raced up her spine, but she spun around anyway.

Isa.

Things had still been awkward since their last encounter, and that was putting it mildly. Mandy had fucked up—again. She was really good at that when it came to Isa, it seemed.

"Thanks," Mandy said as she tucked a stray hair that had come loose from her chignon behind her ear. "And thank you for coming."

Isa shook her head. "As if I'd miss this." She gestured around. "It's really incredible. I always knew you could do it."

The back of Mandy's throat got thick. She would not cry.

"I feel like I've missed so much." Isa's gaze continued to sweep the room.

Mandy wasn't sure how she was supposed to take that. Did it mean that she missed seeing Mandy working on all these projects? Staying up late, pulling her hair out trying to get them all just right. Or was she trying to say that she missed Mandy? "I mean, it's not like you haven't been busy, Dr. Jiménez."

Isa grinned, but she didn't smile. Mandy knew the difference. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. I mean, I know it is, but the long hours, and no sleep, and Boston is great and all but…"

"It's not home."

"Exactly."

Something passed between them. Understanding. Or maybe something else. Mandy wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to try to name it. This was the first time since the last time things felt like they could be okay, but it was all still so fragile—one wrong move and… crack .

"How's Tally?" Mandy blurted, because breaking things was what she did best.

"We broke up." Isa said it so matter-of-factly, without even the slightest hitch in her voice.

"What? Why?" They had been together forever. Tally had even stayed in Boston with Isa for her residency, leaving behind a job she had gotten in her hometown. She gave up her dream for Isa, something Mandy couldn't do.

Isa shrugged. "It just didn't work."

Mandy wanted to press. She needed to know what happened and why. Didn't Tally do all the things a girlfriend should do? Hadn't Isa told Mandy how much she loved Tally? And if this were another time, and the things between Isa and Mandy never happened, she could've asked all those things, but not now, so all she said was, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Isa stood there, shoulders back, head high.

While things between Mandy and Isa had been fraught lately, Mandy was familiar with this look. It was the same one Isa had when she didn't win secretary of their seventh-grade class. The same look she had given to Mandy before she left for Europe years ago. It must've been really bad. All Mandy wanted to do was pull Isa in for a hug, and before Mandy could overthink it to death, that's exactly what she did.

One moment she was in front of Isa and the next, Mandy's arms were around her, her face pressed against Isa's coconut-scented hair. For a second, Isa's body tensed, her arms dangled at her sides, and then a second later they were around Mandy just as tight if not tighter than the way Mandy held her. Isa's chest hitched against Mandy's, and soon tears ran down Mandy's shoulder.

Mandy clenched her jaw tight. She didn't know what Tally had done, but in that instant, if she had been there, Mandy would've probably killed her. Okay, maybe not full-on murder, but Mandy was pissed enough to contemplate it. How dare anyone treat Isa this way. She was brilliant, and caring, and wonderful.

The crowd around them didn't seem to pay any attention; they all seemed to go along with their evening, enjoying the libations and conversations they were involved in. The fact that a woman was sobbing in the middle of an art show didn't seem to matter to any of them, and even if it did, Mandy didn't care. She held on to Isa for as long as she needed. Until the sniffles started, and Isa pulled away.

"I'm sorry about that," Isa said, wiping her eyes and making a mess of her mascara.

"Don't be," Mandy tried to reassure her.

"It's a special night for you. You're supposed to be celebrating. I don't even know what came over me."

A server appeared with a few napkins and handed them to Isa. So maybe someone was paying attention after all.

Isa mumbled her thanks before the server strolled away, and dabbed at her eyes.

"Let me." Mandy held out her hand, and Isa gave her one of the napkins. It was already damp from the tears Isa had mopped up, and Mandy gently cleaned away the streaks of black from under Isa's eyes.

"Oh my god, your arm." Isa started furiously wiping Mandy's shoulder.

"It's fine." Mandy didn't care about the black streaks; if anything, they were proof to remind her later of this moment. Of when she got to hold Isa. And how she would give anything to be able to do it again. "I've missed you." Her words were clear, but her voice was low—tentative. She couldn't mess things up—not again.

"We should talk more often," Isa responded, and Mandy's heart practically jumped for joy. Oh, how she had missed her best friend. How she had dreamed Isa would say these very words. Mandy almost pinched herself to make sure it was real, but when she let her hand fall her new ring slipped, and Mandy's heart slipped too. She was engaged. Isa was here, and Mandy had just gotten engaged.

Mandy hesitated. "Tacos?"

Isa's lips twitched. "Don't you need to, like, stay and mingle?"

All the paintings had been sold. Mandy could strip naked and run through the room, and Aziz wouldn't bat an eye, nor would any of the remaining guests, from the looks of it. And even if none of that were true—if she hadn't sold a single painting, or if her career hinged on her being there until dawn—she'd give it all up for the chance to just be with Isa again. "Nope."

"Tacos then?" Isa asked this time.

"Tacos," Mandy confirmed.

The place that was always busy any night of the week was especially packed for a Friday. It was a small, order-at-the-counter type of restaurant with an outside patio but no tables inside, so it was wall-to-wall people. And if you didn't know how the system worked—because yes, there was a system—you were shit out of luck.

You approached the counter only when you were ready to order, and they only took cash. As quirky as it was, they had the best tacos, especially late-night tacos—although for LA it wasn't that late yet. The real rush happened when the bars closed at two in the morning, and they were still a little while off from that.

Mandy took the lead on ordering since she had been there a million times before, and soon she was sitting at a stone table with a mosaic-tiled top waiting for number seventy-three to be called and begging the universe to give her a break. Or at least help her out a little.

Isa licked her lips. "Smells amazing."

"You already said that." Mandy wanted to hide under the table. Why was this so hard? But she knew the answer. She had a habit of fucking things up and saying or doing the wrong thing, especially when it came to Isa. "I'm sorry."

" You've already said that."

And Mandy had. A lot. Over and over in fact. "Well. I am. The last time I saw you—"

"We don't have to do this," Isa said. "It's in the past. And now…" She glanced at Mandy's hand. "Now you're engaged. That's so exciting."

"Yeah." Mandy looked down at her hand too. The emerald-cut diamond wasn't something she would've picked out for herself, but it was pretty even if she did need to get it resized. Maybe she should take it off and put it in her bag, so she didn't lose it. "I was a little surprised by the whole thing, if I'm being honest."

"I could tell." Because of course she could. Would anyone ever know Mandy the way Isa did?

"But it was sweet, right? And it's not like it's a night I'll ever forget," Mandy said as the stone bench bit into the back of her thighs. "And I guess I sold all of my paintings." Was it obvious she was trying to change the subject?

"That's true." Isa's brows pulled together. Yes, it was obvious.

"You didn't have to buy one, you know." Once it came out of her mouth, Mandy flinched. "That's not what I meant. I just meant—"

"I hadn't planned on it when I came. I debated showing up at all, if we're being honest. But then I got there, and I saw it, and, well. I knew I couldn't leave without it. I couldn't think of that painting hanging in anyone else's house. It just spoke to me." Isa smiled, but she didn't meet Mandy's eyes. Mandy had been the one who painted it—knew exactly all the emotions and thoughts she had been feeling when she had done so—so it was no surprise to her that Isa felt something in it too. Isa was just as much a part of that painting as Mandy was. A chill raced through her, sending gooseflesh rippling over her arms.

Mandy wanted to tell her all of these things, but instead she looked at her ring again. It was just like Edmund to have picked something like this out—something that made a statement. He was predictable like that, which Mandy supposed was a good thing. Not the same kind of solace as a pair of broken-in shoes, or her favorite slippers, but the predictability of being offered champagne while she waited for Edmund to get fitted for a new suit—it wasn't comfortable sitting there while the tailor measured and pinned, but she knew what to expect.

"Are you happy?" Isa asked.

The question caught Mandy off guard, although it shouldn't have. This was Isa, after all, and she knew Mandy better than Mandy knew herself. She lifted her chin and met Isa's eyes. A gust of wind blew Isa's hair over her shoulders. God, she was so beautiful. Maybe if Edmund hadn't gotten on one knee just a few hours ago, she could've reached across the table and held Isa's hand. Or maybe sat next to her, thighs touching, instead of being across from her with a million pieces of shattered tiles artfully plastered between them. Right now, as the wind blew and all the other patrons chatted around them, it felt more like a million miles.

Was she happy?

"Seventy-three," came booming over the intercom.

And instead of trying to answer Isa's question, Mandy said, "I'll get it," stood up, and pushed her way through the crowd.