Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Iris
B y the time we hit the fifth dress store, the most exclusive in Sabine, my heart’s down at my toes.
Mom peruses the racks of dark colors, and this Season, the dresses don’t follow a stylistic choice. Some are romantic, others sophisticated, and some have a slightly different take on last Season.
There is only one theme to follow this Season.
Dark.
And don’t get me wrong, I like dark colors. But I like them my way.
Rue tags along, eyes glued to her screen of her phone as Queen Bee’s disguised voice talks about the barbeque, the Monarch’s leaked list of potential Luxe’s, and her predictions.
I go to snatch the phone to turn it off when Mari stops me. “I’ll take her for some gelato.”
“Gelat-who-now?” Rue sniffs. “I want pizza.”
“No pizza,” I say.
But Mari whispers loudly, “Maybe pizza if you’re good.”
“And I’ve got practice, so I’ll help.” Dahlia offers me a small smile, and I want to yell at them both to stay.
I don’t want to be left alone with Mom in this hellscape. She’s holding some horrendous thing that’s more frill than dress, and I’m not about to be caught alive or dead in it.
“Look at this, Iris,” Mom says with a gasp, eyes shining. I don’t think she even notices my sisters leave. “It’s stunning.”
“I’ll resemble a cake covered in mold,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
She reels back like I slapped her, and guilt bites me.
The last thing I want is to upset or hurt her, but we don’t have the same taste, let alone have the same life goals.
Mom looks around, then at me. “Iris,” she says with a hiss. “Be nice. These dresses are handmade and imported from overseas.”
“And ugly,” I point out.
She frowns.
“Mom…” I touch the gauzy soft netting that reminds me of the veil from the first ball, my only ball, and it glimmers. If this was my dress, I’d pull it apart and make it into something amazing, something me. “It’s pretty, but it’s not…me.”
She shakes her head. “Why do you need to make everything so difficult, Iris? From turning down dances—and don’t think I didn’t notice at the ball—to hiding out at the barbecue, you’re doing everything you can to make this hard for Heath.”
For Heath?
Oh, god forbid.
“And we don’t want to upset him, do we? The great Alpha of the house.” I hand her back the dress, but all she does is hold it out for one of the shop workers to take.
Behind me, the door dings discreetly, the little bell an affectation of yesteryear. It must be another of the workers with another shipment of these frilly monstrosities.
Gross.
“Don’t you want to find happiness and love? A good Alpha? Like your sister?” Mom asks.
It would be easy if she just wanted to prove herself to the other mothers, to secure her standing in Sabine, but Mom doesn’t want that. Her motives are genuine. She wants us all to find a mate, to find love.
Like she had with Dad.
So it makes it hard to push against her. My self-sabotage didn’t work, but to take it further and bring scandal down on my family? I’m not sure I can do that. Even for my own happiness.
I can suffer through this. I guess. For Mom.
Her eyes light up suddenly. “Iris, how about we get some help in choosing a dress for you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Oh, well, I’ll just go home then,” a soft, familiar voice says behind me.
I scream as I spin and wrap Violet up tight in a hug. Finally, some sanity has returned to this crazy family. “You’re here!” I cry. My eyes prickle with tears—I can’t help it. I’ve missed her so damn much. But I try to hide it by touching her round stomach. “How’s my niece?”
“It could be your nephew,” she says with a grin.
“You know!”
“No.” She chuckles. “Stephan doesn’t want to know?—”
“So you can’t either?” I glare past her, waiting for her overprotective mate to come waltzing in next, but I don’t see him. He’s probably hovering just outside the shop.
Violet just laughs, and man, how much I’ve missed that sound.
She always used to be so stressed, so guarded, that it was a rare thing to hear.
Especially during her Season. But now…she’s been unburdened, and her smile radiates.
“I don’t know because I don’t want to know.
But…” She sighs happily, running a hand over her stomach, “I already love this baby so much.”
And she’s going to be a great mother, too. It was a role she was born for.
Mom forgets the dresses for a sweet moment and fusses over Vi, trying to get her to sit, asking the shop girls if they have maternity gowns. But Violet leans in the moment we’re alone.
“You know,” she whispers, “I bet you could do something magical with a maternity gown.”
“I don’t want a gown.”
“See?” Mom says when she reenters the dressing room. “She’s being impossible.”
“Pen’s waiting at the café across the street,” Violet says to Mom. “She brought me here, so I’m sure she’ll like the company.”
“But…” Mom begins.
“Don’t worry about us,” Violet says, delicately cutting her off. “We’ll be fine.”
Mom looks torn. “I know you are, but I wanted to help pick out a dress…”
Somehow, I keep my groan silent.
“Mom,” Violet says, hugging her. “This dress is for meeting with Sophine, right?”
“Yes.” Mom purses her lips. “So it’s important.”
“It’s important for Iris to be herself,” she says. “I know Sophine and what’s she’s looking for in a Luxe. She’ll respect Iris more if she’s not pretending to be someone else.”
When Violet glances at me, I mouth a silent “thank you” to her. How she knows how to weave sentences to somehow be polite and firm is beyond me. It’s a real talent, or maybe a superpower would be more accurate.
Mom smiles. “I’ll be right across the way,” she says. Then she kisses us both on our cheeks and heads out.
The moment the door closes, I let out that groan and sink on the plush velvet pink sofa, Violet joining me.
“Damn,” I say, waving a hand at her. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know exactly what to say.”
“It comes with being the oldest, I think,” she says.
“Then what’s Heath’s excuse?”
“He’s a man,” she chuckles. “They’re always hopeless.”
We both laugh.
“Man, I’ve missed you,” I tell her, and the tears threaten to come up again. I knew I missed her, but I didn’t realize how much until she was here. “Videocalls are not the same.”
“I know. I miss you, too. All of you,” she says. “I’m not used to all the silences with just me and Stephan in our home.”
“You’re probably going to eat those words once the baby comes,” I say.
“Maybe.” She grins. “But for now, let’s try on some dresses, just to make Mom happy.”
There she goes again, knowing just what to say. But I can’t say no to her either.
But I do it, modeling some horrible concoctions and a couple I sort of like. We chat, drink tea, and through it all, I can’t believe how different Violet is. The girl glows.
I’m not talking pregnancy glow. Although that’s there, too. It’s something else, like she’s found herself… No, not that. She’s never been lost. I mean, she’s got a confidence now, a calmness. That edge of anxiety that used to always cling to her is gone.
As sad as I am that she’s left me behind in a way, I’m glad she found her happiness. And Stephan—despites all his faults—treats her like a princess.
Which she deserves.
I’m in the last dress from the pile—a plain satin number, A-line, just shy of boxy—when she stops me.
“Wait. Turn.”
I do, my gaze on my image in the mirror. The dress isn’t me, but it’s the most me out of all of the ones I’ve tried on.
“That one,” she says.
“This?” I frown. “Why would I get this?”
“Because you have to get something , and this is a blank canvas for you. This one has potential. Don’t you think you could work with it? Style it your way?”
I stare at my reflection, and the ideas start flowing. “Shit. You’re right.”
“Of course I am. Pregnancy makes you wise.”
“And fat.”
We look at each other and burst out laughing.
It’s the moments like this I wish I could keep with me forever.
When I get home, the happiness evaporates.
Violet and Pen aren’t with us. It’s just Heath who wants to speak to me again. Alone.
I take a step toward Dad’s—I mean, Heath’s—office and stop.
Something isn’t right, even though no one else seems to notice.
Mari’s walking down the hallway, and I catch her eyes. She gestures with her chin to the drawing room. Voices drift from there—Heath’s and someone else’s.
“Visitors?” Rue appears out of the kitchen and starts to rush that way, but Mari grabs her and pushes her up the stairs. Rue whines, “But I wanna see.”
“Too bad,” Mari says. “Chore time.”
As I creep closer to the doorway, I hear something about servants being said. A door slams, and I hover, unsure if I should follow my sisters up or go in.
But I push out my displeasure in a heavy sigh, then walk inside.
My brother stops mid-sentence, giving me a fierce warning wrapped in a smile. I skim over to him to the man on the sofa. Seeing me, he rises up to his feet.
Sandy blond. Handsome, if you like his sort of thing, which I don’t.
The stranger clears his throat. “So pleased to?—”
“Who’s the simpering fool, Heath?”
My brother looks ready to commit murder. “Manners, Iris. Remember, some people don’t get our sense of humor.”
I turn from Heath to the man. He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I only cross my arms.
“And you are?” I demand.
“Mason.”
“Go home, Mason. I’m not interested. Not now, not ever.”
With that, I turn and stomp to the door. Heath’s voice stops me. “Iris.”
I whirl around. “I don’t want to…whatever it is you want me to do with him.”
“I’m sorry my sister is being so offensive,” Heath says, giving me a death stare.
Mason looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and that makes two of us, really. “I’m not offended.”
“Pussy.”
“Iris,” Heath thunders. “Go to your room. Now.”
I open my mouth and then shake my head. “Fine. But only because I’m done with this performative bullshit.”
I know the curse is just the icing on the cake, and I’ll likely be reamed out for it later, but whatever. It’s not a lie.
I shove through the door and run up the stairs. I hate Heath, I hate what I am, and I hate the world I’ve been born into. None of this is Mason’s fault. He’s just out doing what he’s told to, but I don’t have to like it.
What I want, more than anything, is freedom from this stupid society, freedom to make my own future and to be my own person.
Why is that too much to ask?