"She's good. Two months sober." My throat burns, but I take another swig anyway.
Confusion fills Iris's eyes. "Something about that upset you?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" She smooths her dress. Stares at her purple nails.
"She said some fucked-up shit."
Her lips press together. Her eyes fill with dread.
She knows what I'm going to say.
She knows she's found out.
How the fuck does she know?
How the fuck does everyone else know everything?
A deep breath does nothing to break up the tension in my shoulders. "Bree said she saw you at NA."
"Oh."
"I told her that's bullshit." Please, Iris, please tell me it's bullshit. "You'd have told me if you were an addict."
Her eyes turn down. "I…"
"What the fuck, Iris?"
"I'm sorry." She moves closer. Reaches for my wrist.
I pull my arm to my side.
"It was casual. It was none of your business."
Maybe. It feels hollow. It feels like more bullshit.
"You said the past was the past. You said it didn't matter. That I couldn't tell you anything that would change things." Energy drains from her voice with every word. "Did you mean it?"
I did.
But I…
This…
Fuck, this doesn't make any sense.
She wipes a tear from her eye. "I should have told you. I know that. But you'd have left."
"No." My voice rises. It's too fucking loud. I'm causing a scene.
But it's my birthday.
I can cause a fucking scene if I want.
"Yeah, you would have. That doesn't make it right, but… I… I guess I wanted to believe you." She struggles through her words. "To believe it was possible you might love me anyway."
My eyes find hers.