Page 73 of Make Room for Love

Isabel looked away and said nothing.

Mira’s anxiety spiked. Of course Isabel, more than most people, would be upset by two weeks of mandatory downtime. For one thing, it meant two weeks of having to accept help. But when Mira had lived with Dylan, his bad moods had taken over the entire apartment they’d shared, like a dark cloud that had pushed her into the corners and made her so small she nearly disappeared.

She caught herself about to apologize, and bit it back. “I know you’d rather be working. I know it’s hard. I can swap shifts with someone and do my phone-banking from home?—”

“No,” Isabel said, her impatience breaking through. Mira flinched. Isabel rubbed her face. “It’s fine. Just do your election work.”

“Are you sure?” This new side of Isabel—distant, imperious, patronizing—had emerged during their argument a few weeksago, and it had never quite gone away. Mira had been walking on eggshells far too often at home. And Isabel’s injury was bringing out this side of her more than ever.

Mira ached for her. But she couldn’t relieve Isabel’s pain, or her sense of powerlessness, or whatever else it was that Mira couldn’t see. Obviously, Isabel hated being injured. But whatever was bothering her seemed far bigger than that.

The honeymoon was over. They couldn’t go on like this. The questions looming on the horizon had always been closer than Mira had thought.

Isabel looked at her foot brace. “It’s my fault. Don’t worry about me.”

After a restless night,Isabel limped to the kitchen for coffee. A pot was waiting for her, still hot in the carafe, along with a note in Mira’s elegant cursive:Please take care of yourself.

Isabel took the note and clutched it for a few seconds. She really didn’t deserve Mira.

She poured herself a cup. Her ankle felt a little better. Or, at least, she would keep telling herself that.

Isabel was used to working ten-hour days in the blazing sun and freezing cold. It was ridiculous that something as minor as falling off a ladder could put her out of commission this badly. Two weeks away from work.

She sat at the table, the dull throbbing from her ankle intruding into her thoughts. Mira would have to cook and clean and run errands for them during her busiest week of the year, all while Isabel sat around uselessly because of a stupid mistake she’d made. She remembered the way she’d lost control of herself last night, letting her frustration with herself spill over into being curt with Mira, and how hurt Mira had looked.

What did she know about being a good partner?

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Mira.How are you doing? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.

Isabel was falling apart. She hadn’t been this powerless since the early days after Alexa’s death. At least in those days, she could get lost in the endless rhythm of work. There had always been more conduit to run, miles and miles of it, until Isabel had been too exhausted to stand. Now even that was gone.

She texted back:I’m fine.She had said the same thing to Reina a million times until Reina finally left her.

Isabel was so restless that it was painful to sit still. For the first time in months, she opened up Instagram on her phone.

There was Grace at her bridal shower. Happy and surrounded by friends. Obviously, Grace hadn’t invited her.

Isabel put her face in her hands and groaned, in this empty apartment where there was no one to hear her. She had to dosomething. She stood up, and her ankle complained, but she would just have to get used to that. She would have to figure out a way to become fine.

The grocery store was a block away. She could stay on her feet for an hour or two. That was enough to shop for groceries and cook a simple dinner, to apologize, to make amends, to put things right. She wanted to do so much more for Mira, but it was better than nothing at all.

Isabel plodded to the coat rack and put on her jacket. She puzzled over what shoes to wear, and settled for running shoes, unlaced on one side to fit over the brace. Her ankle nagged her on every step, but she pressed on.

She was going to be fine. She left the apartment, hobbled down the stairs, and walked into the falling snow.

33

Mira wasn’t goingto be happy about this. It was the only thought in Isabel’s mind. The unrelenting white-hot pain in her wrist crowded out everything else.

She groaned incoherently as she lay on the sidewalk. A stranger above her was saying something she couldn’t make sense of. An ambulance siren was getting louder.

The memory was unreal. Slipping on the patch of black ice, and the perfect, clear, heart-stopping moment of regret.Not again.

EMTs were emerging from the ambulance, carrying a stretcher. They said something to her and grabbed her. She flailed, panic rising, the pain turning her mind blank. Not the ER, she didn’t want to go there?—

“Isabel? Is that you?”

That was Mira. Isabel thrashed, trying to turn around and see her, relief momentarily overwhelming the pain. She was ashamed to let Mira see her like this. But she wouldn’t have to go to the ER alone. “Oh my god,” Mira shouted. “What happened? Why the hell are you outside?”