Chapter Twenty-Seven
It had been an interesting day. No Barrett in the office—she was off on-site somewhere—and her absence had illustrated incredibly effectively just how much things had changed.
A few months ago, Iris would have been relieved to have Barrett gone for the day.
Not, she was now aware, because she disliked Barrett but because being around her had always come with a certain tension, a lack of clarity over what exactly their dynamic was.
Now, she understood that part better and Barrett’s absence was… loud.
Still, Iris was proud of her day. Not the parts where she’d missed Barrett.
The parts where she’d eaten breakfast and lunch and been glad to be alive.
Mr. McMillan was still being tricky, getting more demanding with each note or revision Iris sent him, but she could handle it better than she had lately.
His stubbornness didn’t feel like drowning anymore, and knowing she had to push against things he requested felt achievable.
She was feeling more like herself again—the version she’d found in Natasha’s absence at least. And that version missed Barrett.
But that wasn’t particularly surprising news at this point.
The flowers Barrett had given her last Friday were sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter, happy and beautiful.
They were so much like Barrett, Iris decided.
For a woman who exclusively wore black, she was such a splash of color in life.
Bold and bright and Iris’ world was so much better for having her in it.
It was dangerous getting so attached to something that would die soon, but Iris couldn’t help herself. An annoying part of her mind knew there was a lesson in that thought but she wasn’t looking to dwell on it too much. She didn’t actually need to cry when the flowers finally wilted.
She was tapping the screen of her phone on and off, debating simply texting Barrett, when the buzzer for her door rang. Iris flinched in surprise, but she didn’t move to see who it was.
They buzzed again a short time later, and Iris was convinced it was simply someone pressing every buzzer in the building trying to get someone’s attention. And, then, her phone lit up. With Barrett’s name.
“Hello?” she asked inquiringly as she answered the call.
“Princess, I cannot believe you’re leaving me stranded on the sidewalk.” Barrett sounded more amused than annoyed.
“Excuse me?”
Barrett laughed. “You don’t answer the door if it’s not someone you’re expecting?”
“I do not.” Iris turned to look in the direction of her apartment door. “Is it you?”
“That would be the logical deduction, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re ringing my bell?” She wasn’t sure why she was having such a difficult time understanding.
Barrett had been to her building plenty of times.
It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she could be at the door.
The apartment number was on Iris’ keys. Barrett knew where she lived.
It was just highly improbable that she’d simply show up.
Rather than answering verbally, Barrett rang the buzzer again, very effectively making her point.
Iris blinked. “Oh, right.”
Barrett laughed as Iris ran the few steps to the door and buzzed her into the building. And she didn’t say anything as she climbed the stairs to Iris’ apartment.
Iris opened the door as she heard Barrett approaching her floor and was met with a smiling Barrett, phone still held to her ear.
“Nice building,” she said into the phone and to Iris’ face.
Iris nodded. “I like it.”
Barrett smiled. “Hello, princess.”
“Hi. You’re… here.”
“I can leave, if you’d rather?”
“That’s not necessary.”
Iris couldn’t quite breathe right. That was new and different. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, but she was happy to see Barrett. It had barely been twenty-four hours since they’d last seen each other, but still, she liked seeing Barrett. And Barrett was at her apartment.
Barrett smiled warmly and finally hung up the call. “So, not to be even more presumptuous than I’m already being, but we missed breakfast together, so, how about an after-work meal instead?”
Iris’ entire body felt hot, butterflies storming her stomach, and a tiny part of her was terrified but she had wanted to speak to Barrett, and this was infinitely better. She nodded. “Here, or…?”
“I have a place in mind.”
“Okay. Let me just grab my stuff.”
Turning away from Barrett felt physically difficult, as if she might disappear the second Iris looked away.
She couldn’t possibly be hallucinating. She’d been eating better, sleeping better, looking after herself a little more, but Barrett had apparently shown up at her apartment randomly. To hang out. And that felt improbable.
“I had a feeling,” Barrett said, following Iris into the apartment, “that you’d be heartbroken from missing me all day.”
Iris sighed. It was definitely Barrett. She glared at the woman in question, pretending even to herself that Barrett hadn’t been right on the money. “So you decided to call on me like it’s the nineties?”
“Absolutely.” She folded her arms behind her back and swished from side to side like a child. “Iris, do you want to come out to play with me?”
“Jesus Christ.” She shook her head, but she had to work to suppress her smile as she gathered her belongings.
Barrett laughed and relaxed against the door frame. “Nice place.”
Iris looked around like she was seeing it for the first time again. “Thank you. Massima did a great job with it.”
Barrett nodded in agreement, easily recognizing the name of the interior designer Iris had worked with on several projects.
Calling Massima in for her own apartment was something she hadn’t hesitated over for even a second.
Iris was a good architect, but that was an entirely different skill set.
When it came to decorating her own space, she hadn’t trusted herself not to mess it up.
When Iris was ready, she stood directly in front of Barrett and tried not to think about how right she looked casually standing in the apartment like she belonged there. Still, when Barrett raised her eyebrows at the proximity, Iris felt herself blushing.
She cleared her throat but held Barrett’s gaze. “So. Where are we going?”
Looking absolutely delighted, Barrett pushed off the wall, opened Iris’ front door with a flourish, and gestured her out like an overly exuberant knight. “I’m so glad you asked.”
“As people are wont to do when someone shows up like this.”
“Someone? Princess, is that all I am to you?”
Iris’ breath caught and she busied herself with locking the door. She was starting to believe Barrett wasn’t just someone to her at all. “Answer the question.”
“Evasive much?”
“You’re one to talk.”
Barrett laughed and led the way down the stairs and out to the street. “I was thinking about our conversation.”
“Which one?”
“The one about you finding yourself again.” Her voice had become achingly sweet.
“Right. That one.”
She nodded. “And it seems like Cambridge was pretty key in helping you establish yourself and your boundaries and everything—”
“When I was eighteen.”
“Right.” She held up a finger as they walked, as if she’d hit upon something revolutionary. “Which, devastatingly, we no longer are.”
Iris laughed in surprise. “You wish you were still eighteen?"
“Actually, not at all. But it would be nice not to worry I’m going to throw my back out every time I sneeze or sleep slightly wrong.”
Iris watched her in amusement. Barrett was fit and probably didn’t actually have to worry that much, but the general idea had become a fairly persistent joke amongst everyone she knew—especially after they’d all passed thirty-five.
And it wasn’t like she hadn’t developed a sudden, intense interest in the perfect pillow after one night of bad sleep left her with a four-day neck ache.
Barrett patted her fist to her own chest. “Don’t worry. Healthy as a horse.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“You wound me, princess.”
Iris rolled her eyes. “If I thought you were actually in either pain or danger, maybe I’d worry more.”
“I knew you cared.”
“Where are we going, Barrett?”
She barked another laugh. “Well, we’re not eighteen and in England, but I did some research and, it turns out, I can give you a piece of it right here in New York City.”
There was a British restaurant on Greenwich Avenue.
Iris had read about it, thought about going there, even.
She couldn’t quite explain why she’d never made it.
There was a complicated mixture of emotions around it—wanting, hoping, worrying—that didn’t make sense, but the idea of going with Barrett wasn’t terrible at all.
“Right,” she said carefully, unwilling to name the one she knew of in case it wasn’t the one Barrett had discovered. New York was a big place, after all. There could easily be multiple British restaurants here.
Barrett shot her a look. “The name is a little on the nose, perhaps, but maybe it’s a bit of something we all need every once in a while.”
“Tea and Sympathy?” she offered, once she was pretty sure it was the same place.
“Oh! Have you been there before?”
“No. I, uh, I always kind of wanted to but… no.”
“Well then, you can just start calling me a genius now, princess.”
Iris pursed her lips but she was grateful Barrett was being glib. Clearly, she understood the concept was a little loaded for Iris and she was allowing her the space to feel that without demanding an explanation. She was going to provide the jokes until Iris wanted to talk about it.
Iris had never actually been with someone who could hold all the pieces of her.
Natasha certainly couldn’t, and she’d never been all that funny, either.
She made jokes, but she tended to be serious or mean, desperately needing to be in control of everything and everyone around her, particularly Iris.
Maybe she had been funny but Iris had been too distressed to find her particularly amusing.
She didn’t have that problem with Barrett.
They could laugh, and Barrett could be completely ridiculous, and Iris didn’t need to worry about being on or embarrassing Barrett—she actually wasn’t certain Barrett truly experienced embarrassment.
She was so utterly comfortable and confident in who she was. It was admirable.
But that wasn’t all. Barrett wasn’t one-dimensional. Because, when the moment came for depth and emotion, for a serious conversation, she could hold all of that, too. Just as she was capable of feeling and expressing her own emotions. And that was every bit as admirable as her levity.
Iris wanted all those parts of her. And the parts she didn’t yet know.
That had to be a crush. It had been a long time.
She’d never been ignorant to the fact that Barrett was attractive, but that had just become background information, a fact that existed in the world.
Now, it wasn’t. It was right there in the foreground, just like every other bit of information Iris knew about her.
Her eyes lingered on Barrett’s dimples. They were gorgeous, made all the more so by what they represented. Suddenly, Iris was perfectly aware that she’d give anything for Barrett to be this happy always.
She wasn’t sure what her expression was doing, but Barrett held out one hand, palm up, in response to whatever she was seeing. “So, shall we drink tea, and eat biscuits, and pretend to be in England while you rediscover a bit of that spark I know is just begging to reemerge?”
Iris sucked in a sharp breath. Barrett wanted her to have all those parts back. She wanted her to be bold and real and complete, just like she hadn’t been in a long time.
She nodded and dropped her hand into Barrett’s. “Sure.” She paused, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you even like tea?”
“For you, princess, I could like anything.”