Chapter 8 Iris
IRIS
For the first time in my life, I wake before my alarm. Well, alarms. I set three, in fear that I’ll somehow sleep through the first two.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
But today, the nervous energy of my new job wakes me before dawn.
I’m out of bed before the first alarm has gone off, which gives me plenty of time for a long hot shower.
I step under the steam with a sigh, anxiety needling my chest at the thought of going back into that office, at having to face Aidan again.
Yesterday continued much the same way as it started.
Aidan barely grunted in my direction, forcing me to figure things out on my own.
Thankfully, Dad’s assistant Tash is really friendly, and she showed me the ropes.
I wrote everything down, and left Post-it notes on my desk for all the important stuff I’d need to refer to often.
I still have a lot to learn, but it felt like a good start.
If only I could get Aidan to stop glowering at me every time he steps out of his office.
Anyway, that’s why I’m up at this God-awful hour. Tash told me Aidan arrives at the office at seven-thirty sharp, so that means I need to as well. And while I’m not known as a morning person, I’m determined to do things right. To prove I can do this, regardless of what anyone else thinks.
But I overshoot my time in the shower. What felt like loads of time to get ready at a leisurely pace has somehow turned into a tiny sliver of a moment, and panic zips through me as I hastily apply my makeup and pull my hair into a high bun.
Stepping from the bathroom, I realize I don’t have enough time to scarf down a bowl of cereal, and quickly tug on my coat and shove my feet into my heels, feeling around in my coat pocket.
I have four minutes if I want to make the next train, but…
Shit. Where the hell are my keys? I frantically dump the contents of my bag out onto the armchair to paw through the items, knowing they have to be there somewhere. I had them last night, so—
Oh, here are those files Aidan asked me to deal with yesterday.
Crap, I don’t think I was supposed to bring those home.
I make a mental note to file them as soon as I get to the office, then decide I should probably make an actual note, because I’ll no doubt forget.
I grab my notebook and head up a new page with today’s date, adding the reminder, then stuff it back into my bag with the rest of my belongings.
My fingers graze my keys, jammed down the side of the chair, and relief floods me.
Great. Time to get going.
It’s a fifty-minute journey and two trains to get from Queens to Brooklyn Heights, and I nearly doze off on the train three times. Eventually, I step from the subway into the frosty air on Clark Street, high on the knowledge that I’m on time for once in my life. That I’m not fucking things up.
Until I get to the coffee shop. The line is longer than expected, and I only have ten minutes before I’m due at the office.
Which would be fine, except that Joe’s Coffee is at one end of Fruit Street, and the office is at the other end.
At the rate this line is moving, I won’t make it.
I contemplate finding somewhere closer to the office, but Tash said this is the best coffee in the neighborhood, and it’s where Mandy, Aidan’s previous assistant, got his coffee.
I can only hope he cares enough about his coffee to overlook me being a few minutes late.
I cast my gaze around the cute shop as I wait, taking in the large bay windows, exposed wooden floors, white-painted brick walls, and pressed tin on the ceiling.
It’s warm, the smell of espresso and baked goods wafting through the air.
I spy a row of cupcakes nestled in the cabinet near the counter, and contemplate getting one for Aidan.
An olive branch and a reminder of the fun we had, but I can’t see him taking that well.
Finally, the coffee is ready, and I check the time on my phone with a knot in my stomach. Three minutes to walk five blocks. Fuck.
Securing the lid on Aidan’s coffee, I tear out the store and along the street, power walking as quickly as I can in my heels on the icy sidewalk, while miraculously keeping most of the coffee inside the cup.
My blouse is damp with sweat by the time I arrive, breath coming as a puff of white steam in the frigid air.
I’m five minutes late, but given my track record, that’s a fucking miracle.
Five minutes is nothing. He can’t be mad about that.
But it turns out the stress was for nothing.
Aidan isn’t there when I arrive, his office empty and dark, as are the rest of the offices.
I waver in the doorway, thrown. Adrenaline courses through me from the rush down the street.
I was amped up to explain myself to Aidan.
Exhaling slowly, I enter the office and set his coffee on his desk, then open his blinds, letting the cool morning light spill into the room.
He’ll no doubt be here any second, and it won’t hurt to ready the place for him to start his day.
But there isn’t much to get ready. His desk is immaculate, his drafting table clear. Every book on his shelves lines up perfectly. Even the yellow pencils in the jar on his desk are all sharpened.
I think of my own desk and cringe, stepping out to assess the mess.
Each surface is covered in a rainbow of Post-it notes, like someone has sprinkled giant confetti over my desk.
Pulling my notebook and the files from my bag, I begin to tidy it.
I’m not naturally a neat person, because having things out in the open reminds me they’re there, that they need to be dealt with, otherwise I forget.
Case in point, those files Aidan gave me.
I vaguely remember putting them aside to deal with later, then completely forgot about them.
Don’t ask me how they ended up in my bag.
“Morning, Iris.” Tash’s voice cuts through the quiet, and I glance up to find her smiling, the red of her lipstick complementing her dark brown skin. She sets her bag on the desk next to mine, her mahogany eyes scanning my desk.
“I know, it’s a mess,” I mumble, realizing I’ve gotten distracted from my task of cleaning and have instead been doodling in my notebook.
But Tash simply shrugs. “Hey, whatever works for you.” Her tone is without judgment, her face open and kind, and I feel myself relax a little.
“Morning, biatches.”
I wrinkle my nose before turning to smile at Dani, the other Aidan’s assistant.
We met briefly yesterday, but she and her Aidan were out at meetings for most of the day, so we didn’t get to talk much.
In the moment we did chat, I got a weird vibe from her.
Like maybe she’s not a very nice person.
But it’s probably me. Yesterday overwhelmed me, and I wasn’t in the best headspace.
I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I smile as she sashays past.
“Morning, Dani.”
She pauses by my desk, snorting. “Better get this cleaned up. Mr. Brooks likes things a certain way, if you know what I mean.”
I actually don’t know what she means, but there’s something in the way she emphasizes those words that makes it sound sexual. When she smirks before continuing to her own desk, jealousy surges through me. Has Aidan slept with her?
I shake the thought from my head before it can spiral. Of course he hasn’t. And even if he had, it’s none of my business.
Get a grip, Iris.
But she might have a point about my desk, even if Tash was kind enough not to say it.
So, I get back on task tidying, stacking the Post-it notes into neat piles, finally filing the documents Aidan gave me yesterday, and turning on my computer for the day, even though I have no intention of using it.
Everything I need is in my trusty notebook.
By the time I’m done, it’s after 8.30 and Aidan still hasn’t arrived. My father nods a coolly professional good morning at me on his way past, Tash filing into his office after him, and I sit at my desk, twiddling my thumbs, wondering where Aidan is.
Two desks over, Dani files her nails as she sips her morning coffee. Maybe she knows.
I clear my throat. “Uh, Dani, do you know where Aidan—” Wait, that’s her boss’s name, too. Need to clarify. “I mean, Brooks—” Her eyebrows pop up at the use of Aidan’s nickname, and I remember her calling him Mr. Brooks. Of course. He’s my boss. Need to be professional. “I mean, Mr. Brooks, is?”
She flips her blond ponytail over her shoulder, smirking like she did before. Like she knows something I don’t. Which, to be fair, she probably does.
“Um, that’s your job, sweetie,” she says, her tone so saccharine it makes me want to vomit.
I swallow, gritting my teeth as I turn away. Thanks for nothing.
But she isn’t wrong. I should know where my boss is. Only he barely spoke two words to me yesterday, so how the hell would I know? I check my notebook to see what he’s got scheduled for today, but there’s nothing until the 9 a.m. meeting. He should be here.
I head back into Aidan’s office to check his desk, wondering if I’ve missed something.
A note about an early morning meeting or game of squash or something, but there’s nothing.
The coffee I went to such great lengths to obtain is now stone cold, and I dump it in the trash in the kitchenette with a sigh.
Tash appears behind me, grabbing a coffee from the machine.
“Ready for the meeting?” she asks, and I give a tentative nod.
“I think so. I’m assuming I just need to take notes?”