Page 110 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
But it was a different realization that forced her to sit. A realization that struck her so hard it felt like her entire world had flipped upside down. Iris didn’t have a stomach bug. Of course she didn’t. Olive wasn’t even sick. And a stomach bug didn’t make you want to throw up only in the morning. And it didn’t make your boobs hurt. And it didn’t make you weirdly emotional. And a stomach bug didn’t make you skip your period.
Iris was an idiot.
And she was pregnant.
Iris was pregnant and she’d just proven to herself, to the entire town, and most importantly, to Archer that she was completely ill-equipped to be a mother.
* * *
After an incredibly tense car ride home, followed by a tense dinner, and several stern talking-to’s Olive was tucked safely in her bed, although Archer knew he would probably sleep outside her room tonight. And possibly for the rest of her life.
God, he’d never been so afraid in his life as he had been today. The idea that Olive had just disappeared still sent waves of icy terror through his body. For someone that had only been in his life for a few months, she’d made a permanent mark, and now he couldn’t possibly imagine his life without her.
And that went for someone else in this house, too. Someone who hadn’t spoken more than two words since they’d returned home, since she’d apologized profusely, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Iris had retreated to her room when they got home, and he hadn’t seen her since.
He knocked softly on her door.
‘Come in.’
‘Iris, I—’ he stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene in Iris’s room. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Packing.’ She didn’t look up from where she was pulling clothes from her dresser drawers and tossing them onto the bed.
‘Packing? Why are you packing?’
She didn’t stop. More clothes made it to the pile on the bed. What the hell was going on? A panic similar to the one he’d felt when Olive was lost shot through his chest. Impending doom.
‘Iris, look at me. Why are you packing?’
She stopped, her gaze rising to his. Tears glimmered in her eyes. The panic swelled.
‘I’m tendering my resignation.’
Fuck, no.
‘What are you talking about? No, you’re not.’
She huffed, tossing a sweater onto the pile. ‘I am. I quit.’
Terror, sharp and hot sliced through his gut. ‘No,’ he said, again like he was a fucking child. But she couldn’t quit. ‘Olive needs you.’
I need you.
Iris let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry. ‘Ilosther, Archer. Do you know what could have happened to her today? Do you know how many ways that could have gone so much worse? And it was my fault! I wasn’t watching her close enough. I wasn’t paying attention.’
She was fully crying now, great big sobs and sniffles and he couldn’t stand it. He stepped closer, reaching out to touch her but she backed away, kept the distance between them and he hated that, too.
‘Iris, listen, it wasn’t your fault. She does this, remember? She wanders off. She’s done it to me plenty of times. Right out of my own house. It’s not your fault.’
‘It is my fault. And it’s going to reflect poorly on you, Archer. How will this look in court? I jeopardized your whole case for custody. I messed up everything.’
She shook her head, her fiery hair wild around her shoulders. Her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. What was going on with her? What had he missed?
How had he fucked this up so thoroughly?
He stepped closer again and this time she let him touch her, let him brush the hair from her wet face, let him tip her chin up so she had to look at him.
‘I’m sorry, Iris. I’m sorry if I made you feel like it was your fault today. I was just scared. I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed that you were sick. Maybe you just need some time off.’
