Page 82 of Until Then

I scrub a hand over my jaw, that old worry about our age difference creeping back in.

“Iamokay with it,” Reid argues, stabbing another bite of his breakfast. “Dad deserves to be happy. He hasn’t dated anyone more than once or twice since Mom died. It’s safe to say if he’s ready to see someone seriously, then he really cares about her.”

Layla frowns. The hurt in her eyes makes me consider taking it all back. But selfishly, I keep my mouth shut. The idea of not being with Izzy physically pains me.

“Layla.” I clear my throat. “I understand that this will be hard for you, and I’m sorry for that. But I can’t turn my back on something—on someone—who makes me happy.”

Head bowed, she takes several deep breaths. “Dad, I… I can’t give you my blessing if that’s what you’re asking for, but I won’t throw a fit either. This is… weird for me.” Looking up again, she glares at Reid. “And I don’t see how it isn’t weird for you, too.”

“Hey.” He throws his hands up in surrender. “If I’ve learned anything since meeting Via, it’s that when it’s right, it’s right, and you don’t question it.”

Lips pressed together, Layla regards me for a quiet moment. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

That’s all I need. While hope takes root inside me, I give her a small, understanding smile. “I know.”

Reid wipes his mouth with a napkin, pancakes thoroughly devoured, and tosses it onto his plate. “For the record, though, I’m not calling her Mommy.”

Layla chokes, while I’m overcome by a real, deep belly laugh.

23

IZZY

Derrick isdown the street at the diner, breaking the news to his kids. Meanwhile, my sister is waiting inside the coffee shop—no doubt watching me have an internal freakout on the sidewalk outside.

Stop being a wimp!

Why am I so scared? I can’t imagine my sister lecturing me. I’m a grown woman, not a silly teenager with a crush.

With a succinct nod, I repeat that phrase and head for the door. It’s time to do this.

Before I can reach for the door handle, my sister pushes it open from the inside. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks, brow furrowed. “You’re hopping around like your tampon is in wrong.”

“Via,” I laugh, the vise inmy chest loosening.

Years ago, my straitlaced sister would never have made a comment like that. It makes my heart ache in a good way to watch her grow into herself.

“Get in here.” She steps to one side. “I already ordered you a matcha.”

I follow her to where our drinks sit at the counter, waving to Cindy behind the register, then to a table by the front window.

She tucks a strand of hair, the same dark brown shade as mine, behind her ear with nails painted a bright orange color. That’s something else that’s changed. Before she moved to Parkerville, she only wore muted pinks on her nails. Tones that complemented demure, professional clothing. Now, she gets to express herself.

“I hate that we’ve spent so little time together since you got here. Thank you for inviting me this morning.”

I take a sip of my drink to give myself a moment to collect my thoughts, sure she’ll be blindsided by what I have to say.

“Yeah, I thought we should catch up.”

“So”—she smiles, giving my hand a pat—“what’s going on with you? Are you heading back to LA soon?”

“Uh, no, actually.” I rub my nose, stalling. “I like living with Derrick. He’s going to let me film some before and after builds for my channel.”

She perks up, holding her cup with both hands. “That’s cool. Do you think it’ll go over well with your audience? It’s different from your normal content.”

I wipe at the condensation already forming on my cup. “I hope so. It was getting a little monotonous. I thought I’d try something new.”

“It’s good you’re enjoying it.” Her lips kick up on one side. “And how is it living with Derrick?”

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