Chapter 4 #2
“It’s okay, angel. She’s your mother. She’s allowed to ask questions,” Iris replies, his thumb stroking the top of my hand softly.
I choose to ignore how warm the act makes me feel.
I know he’s just doing all of this as a favor to me.
I can’t read too much into it. “Most of the work we do is for missing persons. Once the cases go cold, there isn’t anyone looking for these people besides their families.
The families reach out to people like my associate and I, and we keep the search going.
We bring home the ones we can find and bring closure to the families who need it most.”
Listening to him talk about the work he does, I can tell his heart is all in.
He knows he’s making a difference in people’s lives.
I feel so proud of him. Even though this relationship isn’t real, Iris is still my friend.
People don’t usually take him very seriously, and it’s obvious he wishes they did.
He’s working hard to overcome the reputation he earned, and that’s something to be proud of.
“That sounds like damn fine work,” my dad says, admiration clear in his voice. Iris sits a little taller in his chair, obviously pleased that he has impressed my father.
“It’s not always a happy ending. But I think it makes a difference in people’s lives, so I’m proud to do it,” he says.
Dinner goes on in relative silence for the next half hour.
For once in her life, I’m glad my mother is keeping her mouth shut.
I wonder momentarily if my dad told her to behave herself tonight.
I’d be shocked she actually listened. Dinner and desert end without World War III unfolding.
Just as I think I may actually leave this house unscathed tonight, my mother opens her fucking mouth.
“Well, I think it’s time to end this charade. It was kind of you to come here, but I think we all know what this is,” my mother says, standing and clasping her hands in front of her.
“What are you talking about, Patricia?” My dad asks, and I’m wondering the same thing.
“You expect me to believe this man, this bartending philanthropist bounty hunter, is truly dating your daughter? Don’t think just because you put on some fancy shirt that it covers up who you are underneath, young man.
I can see those tattoos poking out from under your collar and sleeves.
You’re a criminal, or something equally as unsavory, I’m sure.
There’s no way you are really involved with my daughter.
” Her harsh words hit me like a heavyweight punch.
This woman will never believe anyone could ever want me.
“Excuse me, mother?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I finally snap. Twenty-three years of resentment has been building inside me and I’m helpless to hold it back.
“Language, Magnolia. I will not tell you again.” She says, and I’m literally dumbfounded.
That’s what she has to say to me after she all but called me unworthy, even though she believes Iris is a criminal?
! Slowly, Iris stands, placing his napkin on the table.
He reaches down, intertwining our fingers and squeezing softly.
“I think it’s time for us to go.” His demeanor is so calm, so serene in the midst of my fury.
“Honestly, I’m sure you’re a perfectly fine man. But this is just ridiculous,” my mother says, crossing her arms.
My dad looks incredibly embarrassed by everything coming out of her mouth right now. As much as his eyes plead with me to understand, I don’t. I am his daughter as much as she is his wife. Sometimes the pain of his inaction hurts worse than any barbs my mother throws at me.
“That is enough,” Iris barks, his tone shutting my mother up instantly. I don’t think anyone has even stood up for me against my mother.
Before I know what’s happening, he pulls me tightly against his chest, his lips crashing down on mine.
A tiny squeak escapes my lips before I melt into his kiss.
Iris does not ask permission. He takes what he wants, and for some bizarre reason, what he wants is me.
Someone clears their throat behind us, but I don’t give a fuck.
I won’t break this kiss, not until he forces me to.
His hand threads into the hair at the nape of my neck, guiding my head wherever he wants to take me.
He groans into my mouth, his tongue tasting me in a way no man ever has, and my entire body tingles.
I’ve been kissed before. Fumbling kisses from boys who had no idea how to consume a woman with just one kiss.
This is nothing compared to anything I’ve ever felt before.
He’s demanding my soul, my submission, and I give it willingly.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Aaron says, and Iris finally breaks away. His eyes bore in to mine, hollowing me out and pouring himself into the space he’s created inside me.
“Real enough for you? I will not allow you to speak to anyone that way in my presence, especially not someone who I care about so deeply. Your daughter is an incredible person, inside and out. And I feel so sorry for you that you can’t recognize that.” He says, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Let’s not be dramatic.” My mother interjects, but Iris cuts a steely glare in her direction and her mouth snaps shut.
Iris hooks his arm around my waist, pulling me towards the door.
I’ve barely made it back down to earth before he’s opening the front door for me to walk through, leaving my mother stewing silently in her dining chair.
My father rushes to catch us, but I’m done.
I don’t want to be in this house another second.
Embarrassment soaks into my skin, burning like acid against every cut she gave me tonight.
“Mags, wait. I’m sorry about your mother,” my dad says, but I shake my head.
I’ve desperately needed my dad to stand up for me for years, to tell my mother she was wrong, and he never has.
The only man who has ever been on my side is holding my hand now, giving me the strength to walk out the door without turning around.
“It’s enough, dad. I’m done. I will not take any more abuse from her.
You asked me to come here tonight, to share this piece of my life with you, and she spat in my face.
I can’t keep putting myself in this situation over and over again, hoping for a different result.
It is the definition of insanity.” I let go of Iris’s hand, pick up my purse and walk out the front door.
I hear my dad try to follow, but his path is blocked by my personal bodyguard.
“Maybe give her some space. Nothing is gonna be solved tonight with tensions already past their breaking point. I apologize for the way I spoke to your wife, sir. But I won’t allow her to speak to Magnolia that way, and you shouldn’t either,” Iris tells him, leaving my dad speechless.
I wipe a stray tear from my cheek, wondering why my fake boyfriend seems to care so much more for me than my own father.
Iris comes to my side, leading me to the passenger side of my car before opening the door and helping me in. He’s such a gentleman in all things, a stark contrast to the crass, juvenile version of himself he portrays in front of our friends.
When he rounds the hood, coming to sit in the driver’s seat, I suddenly replay tonight’s events in my mind.
“How the heck did you even get here?” I ask once he settled into the leather seats of my car.
He shoots me that sexy, mischievous smirk, the one that makes my insides drop, and I roll my eyes.
“My bike is parked down the street. I wasn’t sure how your parents would feel about motorcycles, so I figured keeping it out of sight would be best. But after that dinner, I’ve decided I don’t give a fuck what your parents think,” he says and I laugh loudly.
“I am so incredibly sorry about that. I wish I could say that wasn’t normal, but it actually was.” My head falls back against the headrest, my body suddenly exhausted. He coasts down the driveway, turning onto the street in front of my parent’s house.
“I can’t imagine growing up in such a gilded cage. My family is loud and obnoxious, but our home was always full of love and respect. I can see that is something your home was lacking,” he says, and I feel the tears streaking down my face.
“I’ve never understood why he defends her. He knows how deeply the things she says hurt me. Nevertheless, he always makes excuses for her,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“She’s his wife. I’m sure he wants to see her as a better person than she is. No one wants to admit to themselves that they’re part of a systemic problem. That’s how generational trauma stays alive, angel,” he says, pulling the car to the curb behind his bike.
“Well, thank you for the things you said. Nobody has ever…” I say, letting my words trail off as I climb out of the car and meet him in front.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his solid chest. I’m shocked for a moment, but I still hug him back.
Within second, my body relaxes in his arms. I didn’t realize how badly I needed this hug, how badly I needed someone to tell me I don’t deserve to be treated that way.
It’s such a simple touch, but I feel a warmth unlike anything I’ve ever felt before in my life.
I’ve seen Iris, the good-time ladies man.
But the man underneath, the man who volunteered to help me without really knowing what he was getting in to, he’s someone else.
“You should be kinder to yourself. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment from your mother, Magnolia.
But you don’t treat yourself much better,” he says, stepping back just far enough to look into my eyes.
“You tell yourself you could never be anyone’s first choice, and you’ve convinced yourself it’s the truth. It’s not.”
My spine stiffens, my defenses immediately going up.
I know I’m not an expert at self-love, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to be a woman in a world like this.
You have to be soft, but strong. Compliant, but assertive.
If you’re not a perfect size 4, you’re not worthy of a second look from a man who couldn’t care less how much time and effort it takes to look effortlessly beautiful.
I know not every man in the world thinks that way, but once you’ve been called the fat friend enough times, you give up.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Iris. Look at you and look at me. We’re not on the same playing field here, and you know it,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my waist defensively.
“You’re right, angel. You’re so far out of my league, I could only dream of having a woman like you.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek.
Stunned by his words, I’m frozen in place as he walks to his bike, pulling his black helmet over his head and swinging his leg over the frame.
He points towards my car, gesturing for me to get inside, and I obey.
My brain cannot comprehend what he just said.
I’m out of his league? He must be joking.
Once I’m safely behind the closed door, he gives me a little wave and disappears into the night, leaving me wondering what the hell is going on with my fake boyfriend.