38. Iris
38
IRIS
I’m unsure what to expect when I walk into the dance studio for our final rehearsal before the showcase. My mind and heart are still reeling from Jake’s revelation.
Sloane came over after she closed up the bookstore, absolutely sure Jake wanted to reveal his identity as the author of the Ellie Spaulding books in large part because he didn’t like deceiving me. But I’m still having trouble letting go of the fact that he did. Plus, the accusations he leveled at me—that I believe he isn’t anything more than his long-ago reputation—sting.
I don’t think it’s true. I don’t want it to be true. Was I patronizing him with my support?
It feels like all those times with my mother, when I believed she wanted something more than the affairs she engaged in over and over. I always believed she was changing—she’d be different, and our lives would be different. And my heart was crushed again and again when she’d make one choice after another that hurt Nick and me. Or destroyed my chances at keeping the friends I’d created in some new town. Or the future that I wanted.
I can’t help but think that if Jake truly cared about me, he would have told me before the rest of my book club found out. Would have trusted me with his most guarded and treasured secret.
I was always the last to know Mom’s secrets, and I vowed not to be so naively trusting as an adult.
But look at where that got me. I’m losing my job because of an affair, which is jeopardizing the chance to make Skylark my home.
So maybe this is about me and my penchant for self-sabotage. I’m so afraid of being hurt by someone that it’s easier to mess things up on my own.
Gloria gives me a questioning look as I walk in, and I offer a smile, hoping she won’t see beyond it. I still haven’t publicly announced my decision to withdraw from the mayor’s race, but I haven’t changed my mind about dropping out. Joey and I are scheduled to meet before the start of Fun Fest. It’s one thing to strive for happiness—it’s another to try to force it.
I can’t help the way my heart skips a beat as I see Jake follow Char out of her small office. I wish I didn’t have this kind of reaction to him. It would be easier if I hadn’t fallen in love with this infuriating contradiction of a man, but I did. I’m also genuinely proud of what he’s accomplished as Spencer Charles. He deserves the fame and accolades, and I hope he lets himself enjoy them now that his secret is out.
Char claps her hands as she always does to begin class, but gives me a funny look as a way of greeting that makes something uncomfortable twist in my stomach.
“Before we begin, I have an announcement to make,” she says, and we all draw closer. “Unfortunately, one of our students is not going to be able to attend the Fun Fest showcase this weekend.”
I glance around. Is it Tom? Did something happen to Janie?
“Jake has to go back to Texas for an emergency.”
My eyes lock on him, but he’s looking anywhere but at me.
“Can it wait?” Gloria asks, disbelief and disappointment warring in her voice. “We’re two days from the event.”
“I’m afraid it can’t,” Jake says, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Everyone looks at me, and it’s clear by their sympathetic gazes they think I’ve already heard the news.
“Are you sure about this?” his grandfather asks. By the way Gilbert’s jaw is working, he’s no happier about it than the rest of us.
“It’s for the best,” Jake says.
For whom? I want to demand. “I guess I’m out of the performance, too,” I say, not sure how I’m supposed to react.
Quite honestly, the showcase is the least of my worries at the moment, but it’s safer to focus on that rather than the fact that my heart feels like it’s splitting in two.
“I was just on the phone with a friend of mine in Denver,” Char says with a tight smile. “He’s a dance instructor in the city, one of the best I know. He’s going to drive up for the showcase. We won’t let our mayor sit on the sidelines.”
A smattering of applause echoes through the room, and I feel my cheeks heat.
“He’ll be here early Saturday, so you two have time to meet and do a short rehearsal before our curtain call.”
A short rehearsal? It took me weeks to get comfortable enough with Jake not to look like I was stumbling all over the dance floor.
But mostly, we started looking like we belong together because I started to feel like we belong together. I have a hard time believing that will work with a new partner.
“Jake’s going to run through this last rehearsal,” Char tells the group in general, but I feel her eyes searching mine.
“Great,” I say with a tight smile.
Jake’s shoulders are stiff, his expression unreadable as he approaches me.
“Are you okay?” He finally looks at me, the regret in his eyes making my chest ache.
“Fine,” I lie, not fooling either of us.
The music starts, and we fall into step. It should be awful dancing with him right now, being so close that the warmth of his body heats my icy skin. It’s anything but. His hand on the small of my back is firm but gentle, guiding me across the studio. Even though he’s leaving me—like everyone leaves—my heart races with each spin. I want to soak up every touch. Fall into the way our bodies fit like they were made for each other.
I can feel the tension in his body, as if he expects me to stomp on his foot or offer some big argument about his choice.
I don’t. I won’t.
I’ve fallen in love with him, but I have no claim to his heart. He doesn’t owe me his loyalty. He’s done everything I asked and then some.
Each dance is bittersweet and the hour passes far too quickly. Near the end of class, Char turns on the music for our solo dance. If Jake notices my trembling hand as we begin, he doesn’t say anything. What we’re doing here feels like more than a simple dance.
It feels like a question, an apology, and goodbye all rolled into one.
How can it end like this? Maybe that’s my luck. Maybe it’s just me.
Our performance is perfect. And it breaks my heart.
The other members of the class break into applause when we finish.
“Your guy better be very special,” Tom tells Char, “because these two would light that showcase on fire.”
“You’ll do great without me,” Jake says quietly.
The word on the tip of my tongue—stay—fades. Sloane told me I should ask for what I want, but I’m not going to get it. Asking will just make the rejection sting worse.
“I have all the faith in the world in your friend,” I say to Char as I take a step away from Jake. I wanted to put my faith in him. I placed my heart in his hands, that’s for sure, and it’s come back to bite me in the ass.
I gather my stuff and walk out the front door. I don’t stop when he calls my name because I’m unsure how long I can hold back the tears pricking my eyes. Life was so much simpler when I wasn’t a crier.
The cool air feels refreshing against my flushed skin, and sunlight slices through the golden leaves of the cottonwood trees lining the sidewalk. Today, the beauty of the season feels like an insult—the world doesn’t care that my heart is breaking apart.
I’m at the corner when a firm hand closes around my wrist.
“You can’t have more surprises in store for me,” I say, half-joking, as I pull my arm away. “We don’t have an audience.”
His jaw is tight, and his eyes search my face. “You told my grandfather I’m not staying in Skylark.” It’s less of an accusation than a statement of fact.
Except…
“I didn’t tell your grandfather anything.”
He waves away my denial. “You told Daniel. A secret for a secret.”
I think back to my last conversation with Daniel and Jodi and shake my head. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t?—”
“I get it. I should have told you about Spencer Charles.”
“Is that why you’re leaving? Because your grandfather found out your plan for the foundation because of me?”
“I shouldn’t have kept it a secret. I’ve kept too many secrets from people I...” He pauses, and it feels like my heart stops right along with him. “From people I care about. I don’t want things to be awkward for you.”
A broken heart isn’t awkward at all.
“I know you love this town. Me being here complicates things, so...”
“I’m not running for mayor,” I blurt. “I’m not...I might not even stay in Skylark.”
“Why?” His thick brows draw together. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re not the only one with secrets.”
He laughs softly and reaches out to touch one finger to my cheek. I swallow hard but don’t pull away. “Secrets are easier to deal with,” he whispers, “if you tell someone.”
“I had an affair with a married man.” My voice cracks, and I hate him seeing me like this, but I continue, spilling everything into the space between us. “I thought they were separated. It was stupid, but I was desperate for someone to love. He made me feel like I mattered…until I found out I didn’t.” The irony isn’t lost on me and I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t want it to be made public.”
Jake stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. “You think it will if you become mayor?”
I shrug. “Maybe it will now. Maybe later. But it’s made me…the possibility has made me understand I don’t want a career in the limelight. I want to help people, to do good work. To make sure kids like my brother and I have places to go where they feel safe and a community to support them. I can do those things behind the scenes.”
“What are the consequences for the jackass who cheated?” Jake demands, his words heavy and charged like the first crack of thunder in a rainstorm.
“He’s not my concern anymore.”
“It’s not fair, Iris. I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but you have so much to give. I know how much you want to make a difference. You are?—”
“Thank you for that,” I say, cutting him off. “You helped me see that it’s okay to be who I am.” I reach up and cup his cheek. “It’s okay to be who you are, too—both the writer and the grandson.”
“You don’t need to leave, Iris. This is your home.”
“Maybe having roots doesn’t suit me.” How do I explain that it doesn’t suit me if I can’t have a home with him?
“Go home to Austin, Jake. I hope you find the life you’re looking for. You deserve happiness. Whether you’re there or here, I hope your grandfather puts you in charge of the foundation. I know you’ll honor his legacy.”
Before he can say anything more, I turn and stride away. We’ve made so many mistakes with each other, but a part of me knows giving up on him—on us—might be the one I regret the most.