Chapter One
Divorce papers were the worst freakin’ birthday present ever. Ever .
Isabella opened the thick envelope, swallowing down the raw lump of regret tightening her throat. Was it too early in the day to curl up into a ball and cry? Probably. The producer wouldn’t appreciate any delays on the final day of shooting.
She brushed the smooth gold of her wedding band and scanned the page. Irreconcilable Differences . What a stupid way to describe everything she and Ian had been through. What a stupid way to end six years of marriage.
The gripping ache in her heart smothered, choked the air from her lungs. God, she missed him. Missed his wicked chuckle, his dimpled smile. Missed the way he whispered to her in bed each night, face to face in the dark, a private cocoon beneath the blanket, a private world full of soft caresses and long, slow kisses. A world that disappeared.
Her vision blurred as fat tears dripped onto the paper.
“You’re going to ruin the perfect makeup I applied.” Celeste’s heavy Haitian accent filled the small dressing trailer as she swished to the table. She grabbed a sponge and foundation, then her dark gaze fell onto the petition. A deep frown pinched her brow. “Great and powerful Bondye, what have you done, child?”
Izzy raised her chin. “What had to be done. Ian’s the one who walked out. I just took the next step.” The next heart-wrenching step. She blinked back more tears as pain sliced through her like an acid-tinged blade.
Celeste clucked her tongue, the wrinkles on her face drawing into a deep frown. “He left to clear his head, to gain perspective of his sister’s death.” She swiped a fresh coat of makeup over the tear tracks. “He never meant to hurt you. And I know he planned to come home.”
“Stop defending him. You’re my godmother. Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Neither. Both.” Celeste shook her head, dred locks swinging. “I’m just sayin’ he didn’t leave you. Not like you think. Not like your father.”
Bitter memories pricked Izzy’s heart. “They both left me, so what’s the difference?” None. Eight or twenty-eight, the empty feeling of not-good-enough hurt like hell.
“The difference is you and Ian had something special. Magickal.”
Izzy snorted. “Love isn’t magical.” It was painful, heartbreaking. Conditional. “Besides, you look for magic in everything.” She crammed the papers into her bag.
“Child, love is the strongest Magick of all.” Celeste fingered the Erzulie Vever emblem hanging from her neck. “And you look for a way out of relationships so you won’t be hurt. Just like your mother, Great Bondye bless her. Someday you’re going to have to stop running.”
“I’m not running. I’m standing up for myself.” She took Celeste’s hand. “I can’t stop working and sit at home just so nothing will happen to me. It’s not fair of Ian to demand that.”
“No, but—”
“Stop! I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t.” She had to concentrate on the stunt, walk through it one more time in her mind. Be professional. Like Ian taught her.
What would he do right now? He would count each step, each move, each blast, make sure everything was timed to the second. And he would be calm. Then he’d press one kiss on her forehead, one on the tip of her nose, one on her lips and whisper ‘come back to me’.
That’s what he used to do. Before Alicia’s accident turned him into a stranger. Before her death turned his professionalism to paranoia. Made him hover and worry. Check, double-check. Question and second-guess everything. Even Izzy’s ability as a stuntwoman.
Christ . How had their relationship reached this point? Her throat tightened. There was a time they finished each other’s sentences, knew how the other felt— even when they were apart. When had she stopped feeling him? Stopped knowing him?
She shuddered, fighting the misery threatening to drown her.
Celeste wrapped her
Divorce papers were the worst freakin’ birthday present ever. Ever .
Isabella opened the thick envelope, swallowing down the raw lump of regret tightening her throat. Was it too early in the day to curl up into a ball and cry? Probably. The producer wouldn’t appreciate any delays on the final day of shooting.
She brushed the smooth gold of her wedding band and scanned the page. Irreconcilable Differences . What a stupid way to describe everything she and Ian had been through. What a stupid way to end six years of marriage.
The gripping ache in her heart smothered, choked the air from her lungs. God, she missed him. Missed his wicked chuckle, his dimpled smile. Missed the way he whispered to her in bed each night, face to face in the dark, a private cocoon beneath the blanket, a private world full of soft caresses and long, slow kisses. A world that disappeared.
Her vision blurred as fat tears dripped onto the paper.
“You’re going to ruin the perfect makeup I applied.” Celeste’s heavy Haitian accent filled the small dressing trailer as she swished to the table. She grabbed a sponge and foundation, then her dark gaze fell onto the petition. A deep frown pinched her brow. “Great and powerful Bondye, what have you done, child?”
Izzy raised her chin. “What had to be done. Ian’s the one who walked out. I just took the next step.” The next heart-wrenching step. She blinked back more tears as pain sliced through her like an acid-tinged blade.
Celeste clucked her tongue, the wrinkles on her face drawing into a deep frown. “He left to clear his head, to gain perspective of his sister’s death.” She swiped a fresh coat of makeup over the tear tracks. “He never meant to hurt you. And I know he planned to come home.”
“Stop defending him. You’re my godmother. Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Neither. Both.” Celeste shook her head, dred locks swinging. “I’m just sayin’ he didn’t leave you. Not like you think. Not like your father.”
Bitter memories pricked Izzy’s heart. “They both left me, so what’s the difference?” None. Eight or twenty-eight, the empty feeling of not-good-enough hurt like hell.
“The difference is you and Ian had something special. Magickal.”
Izzy snorted. “Love isn’t magical.” It was painful, heartbreaking. Conditional. “Besides, you look for magic in everything.” She crammed the papers into her bag.
“Child, love is the strongest Magick of all.” Celeste fingered the Erzulie Vever emblem hanging from her neck. “And you look for a way out of relationships so you won’t be hurt. Just like your mother, Great Bondye bless her. Someday you’re going to have to stop running.”
“I’m not running. I’m standing up for myself.” She took Celeste’s hand. “I can’t stop working and sit at home just so nothing will happen to me. It’s not fair of Ian to demand that.”
“No, but—”
“Stop! I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t.” She had to concentrate on the stunt, walk through it one more time in her mind. Be professional. Like Ian taught her.
What would he do right now? He would count each step, each move, each blast, make sure everything was timed to the second. And he would be calm. Then he’d press one kiss on her forehead, one on the tip of her nose, one on her lips and whisper ‘come back to me’.
That’s what he used to do. Before Alicia’s accident turned him into a stranger. Before her death turned his professionalism to paranoia. Made him hover and worry. Check, double-check. Question and second-guess everything. Even Izzy’s ability as a stuntwoman.
Christ . How had their relationship reached this point? Her throat tightened. There was a time they finished each other’s sentences, knew how the other felt— even when they were apart. When had she stopped feeling him? Stopped knowing him?
She shuddered, fighting the misery threatening to drown her.
Celeste wrapped her
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