Page 69 of A Sudden Romance

“She was so happy afterward—until the next time she got mad at me. Then she threw it in my face that I was showing off.”

How cold! Julia could be as cold and sharp as one of his cleavers, but she wasn’t a bad person.

“Maybe I try too hard. I intend to cheer someone, but I end up making it worse instead.”

“Either way, Julia still has some things she’s working through. Don’t let her words steal your joy.”

Iris put the gummy bear bag on the bench, and her hand crawled behind his back as she curled her arm around his waist.

“I’m so honored to be loved by you.”

He almost swallowed his tongue. Did she know what her words meant to him?

His heart felt like a garden full of leafy greens and herbs. How could he respond?

“Tell me something about your childhood. A memory of your dad you still hold dear.”

He had a few stories from his childhood, but he told her about his friends. Friends he never saw after Dad died and Sabastian moved into a group home and switched schools. “Odd that all my friends came from richer homes than me. Or at least in my eyes, they were rich because they had real homes and didn’t live in a restaurant.”

“But you were rich too.” Her hair brushed against his cheek, the tresses so soft like spun silk. “Your friendship meant the world to them. You gave them that.”

“I always wished I had money.” Like they had. He’d never been able to return their favors, like when they’d bought him candy. “I would’ve loved to offer something more.”

“Relationships are more important than money.”

Of course, she’d say that. How would she know what it was like to be poor and not be able to afford to pay for a house to stay in?

As if knowing he was doubting her words, she rubbed his back. “At the end of the day, you were here with me when I needed a friend—well, no amount of money could take your place.”

She considered him enough? His lips twitched up. He was enough now. That should matter and put him at rest. But if he was her husband and he didn’t have money after dumping it on an unsuccessful restaurant, would she love him the same?

Part of him knew she would. Iris saw good in any situation. That was his Iris. He draped his arm over her shoulders, shifting it over her scratchy wool ugly sweater.

“Tell me more. What do you remember about your dad and your childhood before he died?”

“The first time I ate stuffing at a friend’s home, I thought it was the best food there was.” He chuckled. “And cereal! Oh, I loved the new and different cereals I tried in friends’ homes. Dad never bought us cereal.”

His chest deflated, breath whooshing from his lungs. “I was a brat to Dad sometimes. I’d complain about what we didn’t have, instead of being grateful for what we had.”

“What kid doesn’t complain?” Her arm tightened around his waist. It fit so perfectly there that he dared imagine her as his wife once again... sitting on the sofa as he shared his bad days and she comforted him.

“One Christmas, Dad gave me a jack-in-the-box toy. The thing popped out of the tin, and I was terrified. I never wanted to see it again and hid it under my bed.”

Her shoulders shook.

“Then, one day I was looking for my shoes. Well, I pulled everything out so fast. Guess what popped out in my face?”

“The jack-in-the-box.” She clamped her other hand to her mouth and spoke through laughter.

“I decided not to hide the thing anymore. I spent an extended amount of time winding the toy to open it, only to close it and wind it again until my mind registered that it was just a toy.” His voice drifted away as an ache for Dad emerged. “Funny that, now that I’m older, I realize it was my favorite toy.”

“You lost it in the fire?”

He nodded as her soft voice flowed over him.

Iris cuddled against him with a sigh. “Our childhoods shape so much about us. Even good ones have lasting impacts. I’m always trying not to be the youngest child. What if I fail at what I do and can’t be as successful as my siblings?”

“You’re successful to me. Always will be.” He pressed his head against the top of hers. “Everyone has fears. I don’t think your siblings would easily tell you their fears or failures. Knowing you look up to them, they’d have to be in a very bad place to admit it.”

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