ISABELLA
There are mornings when you wake up and just know the universe is out to make a mockery of you. Today was one of those mornings.
I stared up at the ceiling, cold and bare, like the rest of my pathetic apartment.
Somewhere between last night’s call with Logan where he’d left me hanging mid-sentence, and waking up to the not-so-humble sight of ninety grand still sitting in my account, something had crawled under my skin and made itself very comfortable.
I flung the covers off me, my skin prickling from the chill in the room. My toes sank into the rough, stained carpet, and I sighed.
There was a time when I told myself this was temporary. That I was too sharp-tongued, too quick-witted, too damn alive to be stuck in this kind of life forever. But ninety thousand dollars whispe
