Page 93 of Iris
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Iris
Istand there, hands around the weakest tea known to man, as both Mari and Violet stand by my sides. Rather, Mari stands and Violet sits.
Heath won’t even look at her and misery and guilt permeates everywhere.
He takes a look and storms out, and then shouting infiltrates the room, too far away for us to make it out, but even as my cheeks burn, skin sensitive and the torn, ugly dress too tight—I know it’s about me.
“I’m sorry, Vi,” I whisper.
“Sorry about what?” Mari grabs my arm and turns me, frowning. “You look…different.”
“I’m me. I’m just—” I stop myself from saying done with this whole charade. “Tired.”
“You’re tired?” Vi laughs and takes my hand in her icy one, a giveaway of her anxiety. She’s so much better but she must be anxious over the baby, over the lies she knows I’m telling, but here’s not much I can do.
This isn’t her fight.
It’s mine.
The less she knows, the better.
And, I remind myself, the core story’s true. They did accost me.
“Or is it something else making you tired,” she asks softly. “Something that’s making you reckless, feverish? If so, you can tell me.”
I can. But I can’t contemplate heat, not that seriously.
“Your scent’s a lot stronger, Iris,” she says.
“Leave it. I’m just tired.”
“You should try carrying a baby.” Violet looks up at me. “You’re telling the truth, right? You’re not getting yourself in trouble? After Dad left us broke, I…” She shakes her head. “Heath’s so pigheaded he won’t let Stephan help, and the amount we’ve managed to give is through Pen helping out. It’s Pen, too, of course, but…”
“It isn’t your place,” I say. “If Stephan helps us, it makes it all worse and we all know it. I didn’t mean…” I swallow. “I don’t want to make it hard on Mari, Dahlia, and Rue. Or on Mom.”
Mari laughs. “She’s had a few drinks with Pen, so it was easy keeping it from her.”
“Tonight,” Violet says. “But even a little thing, even if it’s not your fault, it can bite hard. Let’s just hope someone one else made a mess of things.”
The door opens and Heath growls, “Out.”
Mari hurries out. Violet rises, but she doesn’t leave.
“You, too, Vi,” he says, kindly.
“This is my family, too,” she says. “I’ll stay.”
He pushes out a breath. But he focuses on me. “I spoke to Stephan and he says you want to talk to the Monarch, apologize?”
I nod.
“Good. And, in the meantime, you can say yes to any and all dates.”
“By can, do you mean I have the option of turning them down?”
