Page 103 of Someone to Tempt
Alarm bells go off in my head. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between her sentences, but as good as I am with words, damn if I can figure out what it is.
Then my mind turns to a possible reason she’s acting like this, and anger spikes through me without warning. “Do you have a problem with the fact that I’m not actually a slacker?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She looks genuinely confused. “I never believed you were a slacker.”
“Come on. Everybody believed it. I encouraged the reputation. And we both know extending a hand so far down from your pinnacle of perfection is easy. Maybe it’s harder to accept that I’m not the loser everybody wants me to be.” The idea of this slips out before I can stop it, and I hate myself for thinking it. For believing it.
“Nobody wants you to be a loser, and certainly not me.” Her mouth presses into a thin line. “I can’t understand why you didn’t trust me.”
“It isn’t you, it’s everyone…” I draw in a deep breath. “Mostly it’s me. I never believed I deserved this success. My brother was supposed to be the writer.”
“He’d be so proud of you,” she says softly. “I’m proud of you.”
I move again, and so does she. “Then why do you keep backing away from me?” I demand. “This isn’t how the night is supposed to go.”
She shakes her head like she can’t understand it either.
“It’s not you,” she says. “It’s me.” Although I told her the same thing minutes before, I don’t like the way those words land. Her eyes are guarded, like this has changed something between us, and not for the better.
“Any chance we could start the meeting?” Sloane asks as she peeks around the bookshelf, her gaze trained on Iris.
“Be right there.” I hold up a hand but don’t move. “Why do I feel like this thing that I want to be good for both of us is anything but?”
Iris shakes her head. “Like you said, it doesn’t matter at the moment. Everyone’s so excited about meeting Spencer Charles. Let’s not bring down the mood.”
“Fuck the mood.”
She makes a face. “We should join the group. I lovedAbsolute Determination, by the way. Might be my favorite of the series. I don’t want what’s between us to ruin this night for my friends. The show must go on and all that.”
I close my eyes and bite back a sigh. What a fool I was to think this would be easy. I’ve just complicated everything. Ruined my chances for a future with Iris by revealing my secret. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now—that I didn’t tell you first.”
I know Iris to her core. How did I think she’d appreciate being blindsided by hearing my big reveal along with everyone else? Maybe I was being a wimp and hoping she’d go along with the moment and not ask the hard questions—why now, why after all this time? Questions I wish I could answer.
“It’s fine.”
It’s clearly not fine, but I follow her to the back of the bookstore, a tight knot settling in my chest. I have to make this right. I just wish I knew how.
Iris’s friends are not thrilled that she’s upset, and I can tell they blame me. Hell, I blame me, so at least we have that in common.
Sadie, who seems to take on the role of peacemaker, begins asking questions, and I’m shocked at how good it feels to talk about my writing. To take credit for my hard work while still giving, recognizing Mike for the times we spent weaving what would become the first Ellie Spaulding mystery.
The women don’t seem shocked or disappointed that my late brother was involved. Sloane voices the idea that I’m honoring Michael’s memory through my words. My grandpa said the same thing, but somehow, tonight, it hits home. I have the choice to believe I didn’t steal his dream.
And although my parents always made it clear that it should have been me who died that night in the water, that’s not how accidents work.
It’s a tragedy that my brother is gone, but his life wasn’t more valuable than mine. All life is precious. I hope my parents—my father—will be proud when I tell them about my career. I’m not so enlightened now that I don’t still crave that. But even if they can’t appreciate it, I hope they’ll understand that part of my motivation is to feel close to the brother I still miss every day. If not, it’s their loss.
The questions fly fast once the discussion gets going. I should feel elated, but I keep glancing at Iris. She’s quiet, her usual spark dimmed. Every now and then, I catch her friends sneaking her concerned looks. When the meeting ends, they all wrap her in hugs.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offer as she puts on her jacket.
She nods but doesn’t speak.
Outside, the cold October air bites at my skin. I shove my hands in my pockets. “Iris, I...can I call you later?” I ask, suddenly uncertain of the answer.
Her smile is hollow. “Tomorrow. We should wait and talk tomorrow.”
“We have our final class and dress rehearsal tomorrow,” I remind her. “Tonight doesn’t change that. We’re partners, right?” I can’t stop sounding like a sniveling fool begging her not to walk away.
