I instinctively know to remain silent. It comes from being a reporter. I can tell when someone simply needs silence and space to tell their story. Hadleigh doesn’t need any prompts. It’s right there, ready to come out.
“I am a horrible friend. Because I shouldn’t have the feelings I have toward you,” she admits.
I’m stunned. What is she talking about?
“Isla, I’m so jealous of you right now. So jealous, and it makes me sick.”
Jealous?
This time, I’m so surprised, I don’t have the words to speak.
“I majored in what I was good at,” Hadleigh says. “Numbers. Math. I did something that would give me a good job, and I have that. I make great money for how young I am, too. But I hate my life so much, I could scream.”
The wind is knocked from me. If the wall weren’t behind me, I’d be stumbling backward. “What?” I manage to ask. “Hadleigh, what are you talking about?”
“My job isboring. I feel trapped in it. I’m in the same city I grew up in. I didn’t even leave for college. Not that I don’t love Miami, but seeing your life change this week made me realize how you have this incredible new world opening up to you, and I’ll go back to analyzing numbers day after day in my cubicle for the rest of my freaking life, coming back to the same apartment, trying to meet someone decent to date, but not finding what I want, and it all kind of snowballed into being jealous of you, and I’m disgusted that I feel this way!”
Her words tumble out in a rush, and then she begins to cry. I know those emotions. Hot, angry frustrated tears slip from her eyes, and I move so I’m standing in front of her.
Then I do what Dad would do in this situation. I wrap her in a huge bear hug. We don’t say anything. I let my hug speak the words. With my embrace, I tell her she’s safe. I’m not mad.
And that I love her.
I release her and put my hands on her arms. She looks at me with a mixture of shame and sadness. “I might be jealous, but I’m also so damn proud of you,” she says, her voice wobbling. “You’re amazing, Isla. You do whatever you set your mind out to do. You do things that involve risk. Like putting yourself out there on social media. I could never do what you did! But look at you now, with like four hundred thousand followers on TikTok.Four hundred thousand. And you’re brave enough to go to a new country to live—hardly knowing anyone over there—andnow you have Maxwell, and he sounds as lovely as he looks. You deserve all of this. I just … I just feel envious. I want to take risks, too, but I don’t know how. You have this insane new life ahead of you, and I’ll still be here, crunching numbers, wishing I could have just a sliver of what you have.”
I take in all her words and fears. Then I look her square in the eyes. “Use your envy to take risks,” I say simply.
She blinks. “How?”
“Let it motivate you. Be open to doing something completely different.”
Hadleigh shakes her head. “I only have talent with numbers.”
“That’s because you’ve only tried numbers.”
“Well, it’s not like I can go out and earn another degree to do something else.”
“You could. If you wanted to. It might take longer, you might have to do it around a job, but you could absolutely do it. Or save your money and start taking fabulous trips. You know you could come visit me in London or come to any race I’m working. You can share a hotel room with me. And I could hook you up with tickets.”
“Can you hook me up with the bad boy of driving?” she asks, a smile finally returning to her face at the thought of Xavier. “And I do meanhook up.”
“I don’t know. Join me for a race weekend and we’ll find out.” We both chuckle.
“But seriously, Hadleigh, why don’t you visit me at some point this summer? I would love for you to experience a race weekend. There are some fantastic places you can go. Like Silverstone in July. Or Austria! If you want to go later, you could meet me in The Netherlands. Or Italy. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it would certainly let you have some new experiences and see a bit of Europe.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
“I think you have a lot to think about,” I say gently. “But you are so smart, Hadleigh. And you can do many different things with your life. Nothing is set in stone. But you might have to take some risks to find it.”
Hadleigh winces at my words. She’s not a risk taker. She has a mortal fear of failing, and that’s one thing that is different about her from the way I approach things.
Hmm. Maybe Xavier Williams would be good for her, if only for a weekend.
“You can do hard things. And you can take risks,” I remind her. “It’s a choice.”
“If you say, ‘no risk, no reward,’ I’ll puke,” she says.
I grin. “I don’t have to. You’re already thinking it.”