Chapter Twelve
“Have you ever wanted to murder someone you don’t know?” Barrett asked as she collapsed onto Ruby’s sofa.
Ruby’s responding scowl was uncharacteristic. “Yes. That person who insists on getting my boba order wrong every single time I go in.”
Barrett laughed. She was pretty sure the barista in question was trying to flirt with Ruby, she was just getting it really, really wrong, and Ruby was far too sweet and polite to complain directly, so she’d just suck it up, drink something she hadn’t ordered, and complain to Barrett instead.
It wasn’t even that she didn’t like the drinks the woman gave her.
It was the principle of the thing, and Ruby ordered based on vibes.
When she wanted brown sugar milk tea, she really wanted brown sugar milk tea.
When she wanted taro, she really wanted taro.
Ruby walked over to the couch—a bright coral, velvet thing that somehow both perfectly matched and perfectly clashed with the rest of her retro decor.
It was a very seventies living room, contrasted with the fairy pink cloudscape of her bedroom, and the modern brights of the kitchen.
Barrett was simply expecting her to drop down beside her.
Instead, Ruby flung her arms out and released Georgie onto Barrett’s lap.
Barrett smiled but shot Ruby a look as her thighs became instant pin cushions for the sharpest claws known to man. “Thank you for that lack of warning.”
Ruby smiled like neither she nor Georgie had ever done anything wrong in their lives. “So. Who do you want to murder?”
“You threw a cat at me. I’m not telling you anything.”
“I didn’t throw her. I would never throw Georgie!”
“I can feel the blood beading on my legs right now…”
“Jesus. You can just move her if you don't want her, if you don’t love her.”
“Don’t even try that with me,” Barrett warned, essentially performing crunches as she slowly lifted her knees to keep the cat close.
She’d hugged Oscar for most of hearing Iris’ story, but he’d been in dire need of a nap after his walk, and she’d fully anticipated going home, making dinner, and staying put in her own apartment.
But, once she’d gotten Oscar settled in his bed made for a dog three times his size, she’d felt too wired to sit down and act normally.
She’d needed to run, to fight, to do something to help Iris, though there wasn’t really anything she could do.
In one evening, she’d learned more about Iris than she had in years—and she’d been paying attention—but she hadn’t needed tonight to know Iris wouldn’t want her wading in and making a mess.
No matter how much Barrett wanted to yell at Natasha until she never considered even thinking Iris’ name again, let alone coming around her.
So, naturally, she’d marched herself over to Ruby’s apartment.
“Natasha,” she said eventually, more than a little brooding.
Ruby froze, her energy drink held in the air like she was advertising the stuff. “Iris’ terrible ex from the bar the other week?”
“The one and only.”
“Well, I’d say that’s deserved, but why are you so bothered by her tonight? That was ages ago.” She gasped dramatically and put her can back down without taking a sip. “Did you run into her again? Is Iris getting back with her?”
Despite the turmoil of seeing Natasha, Iris didn’t seem remotely interested in rekindling anything with her.
It was a fact seldom acknowledged that people rarely managed to leave an abusive relationship on their first attempt.
Whatever finally got her there, it was clear to Barrett that it had taken significant effort and strength from Iris, and any love for Natasha seemed to have died along the way.
Her responses weren’t of someone still in love and wanting to go back.
They were trauma responses. And while those could keep you returning to someone, that didn’t seem to be where Iris was at.
“Thankfully,” Barrett said, picking at the orange hairs now littering her black outfit, “she doesn’t seem interested in that.”
Ruby shot her a knowing smirk, which elicited a shake of the head and an exaggerated eye-roll from Barrett.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she told Ruby. “You’re making unfounded accusations.”
“I didn’t make any accusations. But… if I had, they wouldn’t have been unfounded.” She picked her drink back up with an air of superiority Barrett didn’t care for.
“The way you looked at me made them for you. And you don’t need to be looking.”
“You’re glad she’s not still interested in her ex and you want to murder that very same ex.”
“Because she’s evil, not because I have feelings for Iris.”
“So you admit you do have feelings for her and they just might be clouding your take on this whole thing?” She laughed. “I think it’s romantic.”
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even close to romantic.
There was nothing romantic between her and Iris.
Even just tonight, Iris had been incredibly clear on pointing out that her willingness to allow Barrett’s use of pet names came from a place entirely devoid of romance.
And there was no point muddying those already complicated waters with her feelings.
She could help Iris as a friend and that would be enough.
When she didn’t reply, Ruby shot her a knowing look. “If Deepti wanted to murder people for me, I’d think that was romantic.”
Barrett snorted. “I’m certain they want to murder everyone who’s ever been the least bit unkind to you. But that’s beside the point. My whole thing with Iris isn’t romantic. It’s flirting, not a marriage proposal.”
Barrett had been clear for a long time—long before Iris came on the scene—that marriage wasn’t for her.
She liked flirting, she liked fun, but marriage was serious, commitment was massive.
She’d spent enough of her life taking care of others and living with the guilt of needing to make her own choices.
After working to get past that, she wasn’t interested in throwing herself back into that position.
She had her own life to live—one she’d worked damn hard to get—and she didn’t have the space to give everything she was up for someone else.
She couldn’t give them marriage or kids or the whole picket-fence life.
She jumped as Georgie hopped off her lap, being sure to get a few extra scratches in as she did. “Your cat is a menace,” she told Ruby.
“Just like my best friend. That’s clearly who I like to surround myself with.”
“And you thought Deepti wouldn’t gleefully murder people for you?”
“I didn’t say that. What I said was that you want to murder Natasha because you have feelings for Iris.”
“I don’t do feelings. And the reason I want to murder Natasha is because she’s an abuser who destroyed Iris’ life and thinks it’s acceptable to come around dating her friend now.”
“Iris’ life doesn’t seem very destroyed,” Ruby hedged. “I’m sure it was for a time, but she’s built it and herself back up. She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for.”
That wasn’t remotely true. Barrett had hardly met anyone stronger than Iris, but the point was that she shouldn’t have to be strong.
She should get to be whatever the hell she wanted without having to carry the scars of a shitty, abusive ex with her.
Why did she have to be strong just so someone else could get away with being terrible?
Plus, Ruby didn’t see what Barrett did. In truth, she imagined very few people did.
Maybe Anya, but, despite being in the same room with her for the past two weeks, even Penn hadn’t noticed what was happening with Iris.
And they weren’t especially unobservant.
Iris was just painfully familiar with projecting the idea that she was okay, that everything was fine, that she was entirely on top of her life, her job, and her emotions.
And Barrett wanted to scream into the void and demand answers on her behalf about why does she have to be?
Murdering Natasha would be easier. It would be worth the consequences.
Barrett pulled herself up to standing. Coming here had been a mistake.
She couldn’t betray Iris’ trust by talking about the details and she couldn’t deny being attracted to Iris.
On the outside, with only partial information, Ruby’s conclusion was the obvious one, the simple one, the fucking romantic one.
“I should get going,” she said, gathering her coat. “But, for what it’s worth, my anger at Natasha tonight is the direct result of learning what she used to call Iris and the whole story behind that. It has nothing to do with me finding Iris attractive.”
Ruby laughed. “Right. She’s hot, it’s irrelevant, you have no feelings beyond that?”
“Correct. The second feelings start getting involved, I shut off like a faucet. Job done. Well, except for on other people’s behalf. Genuinely thrilled for you and Deepti.”
“So, we’re still going to the movies together on Saturday?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you don’t want to bring Iris to make it a double date?”
“Absolutely not.”
Double dates were eternally off the table. They were integration, involvement. They signaled real relationships and dynamics that became complicated when you broke up.
And she wasn’t even dating Iris.
It was fine that Iris had met both Ruby and Deepti—even outside of the fact that Iris probably didn’t even remember them thanks to how distressed she was by Natasha’s invasion. They were friends. They could meet each other’s friends. Barrett was allowed to have hot friends.
She paused at the door, turning to look at Ruby. “Can you watch Oscar after work tomorrow night? Take him for a stroll around the block and feed him dinner? I’ll leave his meal ready in the fridge.”
“Of course. Why?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going grocery shopping with Iris.”
Ruby’s lips pressed together so tightly they became non-existent. “Because that’s not romantic.”
“Oh, yeah, I can’t get enough of the frozen goods aisle. Really gets me going. That little beep when they scan your items? Soundtrack to my sex life.”
“You know what I mean,” she protested with a laugh.
“I know there are few things less sexy than grocery shopping. We both just happen to need to go at the same time, and it’s something of a joke. Between friends.”
Ruby huffed, looking doubtful. “If you say so.”
“I absolutely do say so.” Because she had to. There was nothing happening with Iris now or in the future. And everyone needed to be clear on that. Especially if she was going to hang out with Iris more and there was the chance she and Ruby would be in the same room together again.
The last thing Iris needed was someone she barely knew pushing her together with the colleague she’d hardly been able to stand a few weeks ago.
It was, most likely, that exact dynamic that made Iris able to talk to Barrett about this stuff.
She could be honest without having to worry about the impact it would have on her life or her job or anything else.
When she’d walked away from Natasha, it probably felt like everything was lost and falling apart.
With Barrett, there wasn’t that risk. They weren’t involved in each other’s lives, and they could make the office work no matter what did or did not exist between them.
Iris could be honest without worrying Barrett would get too emotionally involved.
She could be hurt or angry and it wouldn’t change a thing in her life. People needed that.
And Barrett wasn’t going to let a silly crush she wasn’t going to do anything with impact that.