Page 4 of Until Then

Trolls online and even people in the social media industry treat me as if I’ve committed murder, when in reality, all I did was read the questions I’d been given and instructed to ask. Even The Tea cut our contract short, as if they’re not to blame for the entire debacle. Bunch of bitches.

Lips pressed together, I nod. “It would be good to get away for a few months.”

“Months?” he asks, gaping. “I meant like a week. Two tops.”

I shrug. “I like it there and I miss my sister. It’s not like I have any obligations here. I’m not even filming videos right now, so I have the time.”

Finneas frowns. “But I’ll miss you.”

“You can come visit.”

Brows pulled low, he assesses me over the rim of his margarita glass. “In Maine?”

“It’s not a foreign country. Even if it was, you have a passport.”

His sigh is nothing short of dramatic. “But it’s so far.”

“Wow. And here I thought you loved me.”

He sticks his tongue out. “I’ll consider it.”

By the time we leave dinner, I’m pleasantly buzzed, not drunk, and I feel a modicum better.

Still, I book my plane ticket before going to bed.

2

IZZY

There’sno place on earth that soothes my soul like Parkerville, Maine.

I can see why my sister chose it without even visiting. It screamssmall coastal townandidyllic life by the sea.

I turn the radio down as I navigate the RAV-4 I rented for my stay—a far cry from my BMW back home—toward town. The fabric seats smell faintly of cigarettes, despite the contract I signed that said no smoking in the rental.

When the town limits come into view, the smile that spreads across my lips is uncontrollable. Almost immediately I feel better than I have since the night of the interview.

I roll the window down and inhale the salty ocean air.

Home.

That’s how I feel, like I’m returning to where I belong.

Once I turn onto Main Street, it only takes a minute before I’m parking beside my sister’s store, Color Me Happy.

I grab the doggy backpack from the passenger seat and let Wonton out.

“Let’s go potty,” I croon to my beloved Maltese.

He makes quick work, hiking his leg up on the dumpster, and when he’s done, I scoop him up and cover his head in kisses, his fluffy white fur tickling my nose.

“Let’s go see Auntie Via.”

The last time I visited, my sister gave me a key to her apartment above her art store, urging me to use it any time.

My chest goes tight. I really hope she meant that.

Her car isn’t in the alley, so she’s probably at her boyfriend’s. He’s eleven years younger than her, insanely hot, and absolutely perfect for her. She deserves someone who worships the ground she walks on after how things ended with her ex-husband.

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