Teenager

dix

Isabella's POV
I kept poking at the spongey top of the tiramisu that I had ordered at the chic cafe by Rode Drive to avoid having to look Rosalie in her eyes. It had been two weeks, whatever business she had to wrap up overseas was finished, and she had just settled into a penthouse in the same downtown LA building that Kendall Jenner used to live in. She texted me to invite me out for a treat so that we could talk and "catch up," but I just get the feeling that it's going to take a lot more than one trip to a bakery with pink utensils for us to "catch up," especially since we have 15 years worth of catching up to do.

"So, I signed the contracts for the show yesterday. What's that like?" Rosalie asked, folding her hands on the table in front of her.

I don't know why she invited me to a bakery then proclaimed that she was on a diet and couldn't actually eat anything in the bakery, so she had settled for some nasty looking green smoothie.

"It's...interesting. The moms are always fighting with each other and they don't really like new people so you're in for an interesting ride. Abby is cool, sometimes, and the girls are really nice," I said, still not looking at her because this is so awkward. And I thought that I could do this but my feelings are still a little heart.

"I'm sure I can handle them," she chuckled, brushing her hair off of her shoulders as I shrugged. I don't know her that well so I can't say if she can or not.

Last time I saw Rosalie, she had vibrant red hair that was pin straight and trailed down her back. It was still pretty much the same but it was a natural dark brown color, and it looked a lot better on her. Her skin was glowing with a tan and she looked way older than she did last time she had seen her, but I didn't say anything about that. I expected her to be in some high fashion ensemble but she looked like some trendy native born Californian with her lilac colored lululemon leggings, matching bra, and white hoodie.

"Isabella."

I only get called by my full name when I'm in trouble, so I finally looked up and made eye contact with her. We have the same colored eyes. But that's about all that we have in common. My dad swears that I look like her but I don't think that I do.

"I know what I said the last time that I saw you really hurt you. And I am so incredibly sorry for that. But I hope that we can move forward and really have a better relationship because I want to get to know you, and I want to have a place in your life. I hope someday you'll let me," Rosalie said as she placed her hand over mine.

I'm so conflicted. This is too much for me if I'm being completely honest. Rosalie did really hurt me when she told me over the phone - after she refused to meet with me face to face - that she had left us for a reason and that she basically didn't want me. Rosalie was supposed to be my mother. My dad was great, and he had raised me so well that most of the time I forgot about having a mother, but that was only most of the time. There were still so many moments when I yearned for a mother figure but knew that I would never have one. Then Demi came along. And now Rosalie was back. Maybe I should be grateful that now I could possibly have two moms, but I just can't get past what she said to me. Even though she wants to be in my life now, how she treated me and what she said to me will always be in the back of my mind.

"Okay," I said, instead of really letting her know what I thought of that. She smiled, satisfied with my answer before patting my hand then checking the time on her rose gold Apple Watch.

"I think it's time for us to head out. Do you want me to drop you off at home?" Rosalie asked but I shook my head.

"I drove."

"What? You're old enough to drive?"

"My birthday was on Saturday," I said as I stood up, abandoning my half eaten tiramisu to grab my Chanel crossbody and dig my keys out of it.