Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-six
Iris scrutinized her reflection in the elevator doors of Hannah and Mike’s apartment building.
It was the night of Mike’s birthday party, where she was going to see her ex, Ben, and worse, was going to meet his new girlfriend, #PelotonMad.
But Iris reminded herself that she had a hot new man in her life, low humidity had blessed her with a good hair day, and her liquid eyeliner had come out symmetrical.
And of course, she had splashed the perfume on every pulse point.
She would not be the loser of this breakup.
The elevator dinged as the doors opened to the sixth floor, Iris gripping the gift bottle of whiskey with clammy palms.
“Hiii!” Hannah threw her arms open to Iris at the front door, and they embraced around her baby bump. “Okay, you look hot. Spin! ”
Bless Hannah for pretending she hadn’t been part of the decision committee on Iris’s outfit: a short navy fit-and-flare dress that fanned out when Iris twirled, showing off her long legs made longer in brand-new wedge espadrilles.
The dress had a high bateau neckline, but Iris dropped her denim jacket to flash the bare back, held together by a ribbon tie.
Hannah squealed. “You are giving French girl fantasy, legs for days, I love it. And I’m not letting you put that jacket back on until you go home. Give it.”
“Thanks, you look stunning, like a goddess.”
Hannah wore a halter neck maxidress revealing new, ample cleavage and draping gracefully over her bump. “I look pregnant. But the boobs are nice. Ben isn’t here yet.”
“No?” Iris widened her eyes. “Where does the tracking device say he is now?”
Hannah laughed. “You know I would if you asked.”
She led Iris into the kitchen where Mike was chatting with a few guests and muddling mint.
“Happy birthday!” Iris presented him with the bottle with a big bow on it. “And I want to thank you for helping my neighbor Mireille Rapacine, I know how busy you are—”
“Iris, you’re family. It’s my pleasure.” Mike handed her a copper mug. “Mint julep?”
Hannah reappeared. “Babe, we have to show her the nursery!”
They led her deeper into the apartment to the room that just last weekend had been a minor disaster. “Omigosh, it’s all done!”
The room had completely come together, it was now neat, organized, and absolutely charming.
The sage-green walls were decorated with framed illustrations from Winnie-the-Pooh, a photo from their pregnancy announcement, and an empty picture frame just waiting for a first photo.
A fluffy cream-colored rug softened the gleaming hardwood floor, and the armchair was newly complemented by a round woven ottoman.
The bookshelves Iris had built were filled with the children’s books from the shower, a few plush animals, and wicker storage baskets with gingham bows.
Her heart swelled with happiness for them.
“And look at the crib!” Iris turned to Mike approvingly. The white wooden slats and snug mattress looked neat as a pin, with a sweet mobile hanging above it of floating sheep, a moon, and stars.
“He did a great job in the end,” Hannah said.
“I had my potential divorce as a hard deadline.”
Hannah put her arms around Mike, lovingly. “It makes it so real.”
Iris nodded. “You’re going to be amazing parents.” Seeing their future in such vivid color reaffirmed how badly Iris wanted this for herself.
—
Iris may have had some pre-party jitters, but soon she found herself having an amazing time.
The perfume was the greatest social lubricant, as relaxing as alcohol without the drunkenness.
She found herself holding court with a group of men and women, mostly men, telling stories, making everyone laugh.
Although she didn’t need to drink to feel comfortable, she did, as one of Mike’s guy friends was always ready to refresh her glass.
And yet Iris knew the moment Ben entered the apartment. Maybe her nose caught his scent in the limbic part of her brain or her ears recognized the exact frequency of his voice, but her eyes knew to look the moment he stepped through the door.
And he looked good.
He had gotten a haircut since she last saw him, cropped close, so he looked less boyish than his normal floppy brown curls, giving him an uncharacteristic edge. He wore stone-colored khakis and a chambray shirt with the sleeves cuffed over his tanned forearms—one of which was draped over Madison.
Iris had found Madison painfully pretty when she’d been caught in the rain, but here, in her blown-out, lip-glossed glory, she was another level of intimidating.
Her long blond hair was curled in Bachelor -contestant waves, her makeup looked like a TikTok filter.
She wore a cropped tube top exposing a taut tummy and denim cut-offs.
Hannah appeared at Iris’s side and said, sotto voce, “Who wears a crop top to a pregnant woman’s home? She sucks, I hate her, the end.” Then she looked earnestly at Iris. “You ready to say hi?”
Iris took a deep breath and nodded.
Ben peeled off when he saw them approach. “Hey, ’Ris. Bring it in.” He greeted her with a light hug.
“Good to see you. I hope you’ll introduce me to your date.” Iris gestured to across the room where Madison was standing, although she wasn’t visible behind the small ring of mostly male fans that had formed around her.
“Of course. I’m sorry, I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“Not at all. We’re all friends here.”
Ben beckoned her and Madison strode over, beaming. Ben introduced them.
“I love your dress!” Madison said.
“Thanks. I love your outfit. Very Carrie, season three.”
Madison looked puzzled.
“From Sex and the City ?”
“Oh, I never saw it! My mom wouldn’t let me.”
‘Fuck, I’m old!’ Season 4, episode 1 . “Well, it’s a compliment. Season three Carrie is the best.”
Hannah and Mike joined them. Madison began asking Hannah the usual questions about her pregnancy when Iris felt her phone vibrate inside her dress pocket. She slipped it out and took a peek.
It was from Gabe, a picture of himself lying back in his bed, his gorgeous bare torso, a sinewy, tattooed arm holding a pillow over his face, with the message:
My sheets smell like you.
A flush bloomed across her cheeks. Iris typed back:
Careful, you’ll smother yourself.
Gabe replied:
Trying to. Least until you come back and finish the job.
“Somebody just read something good,” Mike said, smirking at Iris. “That your new boo?”
“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t make it your business.” She glanced at Ben and found him already looking at her.
Madison asked, “Ooh, Hannah, how did you and Mike meet? I love hearing how couples met.”
Hannah smiled. “Actually, Ben and Iris introduced us. I’ve been best friends with Iris since middle school, and Ben knew Mike from college.”
Madison looked discomfited.
“Ben asked me, nay begged me, to do him a favor and entertain this random chick his girlfriend was bringing on a ski trip,” Mike teased. Then his gaze melted. “I had no idea she would be the love of my life.”
They looked in each other’s eyes for a moment, and Hannah had only to tilt her chin up for him to meet her with a kiss.
Iris smiled, glad something beautiful had been born out of her and Ben’s relationship after all.
“How about you two, how did you meet?” Mike asked.
Madison bounced on her toes. “Oh, it’s adorable. I was filming content in Central Park, and it was really windy, and the reflector shield thingy blew right out of the photographer assistant’s hands like a giant Frisbee.”
Ben interjected, “And I wasn’t looking—”
“He wasn’t looking!” Madison echoed.
“—and it hit me in the head.”
“Ben did always suck at Ultimate Frisbee,” Mike joked.
Madison jumped back in. “So I ran over like, ‘Omigod, I’m so sorry!’ But I was in a bikini for the shoot on, like, a freezing day in April, which made no sense. And…” She looked promptingly to Ben, but he only smiled back. “Babe, say what you said, it’s so funny.”
He hesitated before adding, “I said I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
“Isn’t that the cutest?” Madison pouted. “And he asked for my number, and here we are!”
Hannah shot Iris a look.
“My boy’s got game . Speaking of…” Mike turned to the rest of the guests and clapped his hands. “All right, everybody, are you rea- dy ?”
“I was born ready,” Iris answered, knowing exactly where he was headed.
“I know, kid, you’re my star pitcher.” Mike gripped her shoulders and jiggled her.
“Ready for what?” Madison asked, confused.
Ben explained, “Every year for his birthday, Mike insists we play charades.”
“Competitive charades,” Mike corrected him. “This is not your polite society, participation trophy charades. This is Olympic level, God tier shit.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s a really reasonable tradition, he’s very normal about it.”
—
“Let the charades begin!” Mike did a rundown of the rules for the classic game, plus Mike’s additional “competitive” rules, like that every turn must be timed. “Couples can’t be on the same team. So, Hannah, I love ya, but you’re on the other side. I call Iris, Iris is on my team, birthday rules.”
“She’s good,” Hannah explained to the room.
“And oh shit, this is the first year I can also have my guy Ben on my team, too. Awkward! ” Mike sang the last word in falsetto, clearly feeling his juleps. “But bully for me! Ben, get over here.”
The teams broke down so that Hannah and Madison were on one team, and Ben, Iris, and Mike were on the other, among a mix of his other friends.
Mike went first and got Iris to The Sopranos in under thirty seconds by pretending to get kicked in the balls and then pantomiming singing, assisted by a near-perfect impression of James Gandolfini’s heavy sniffs.
“Yes, Iris! This is the hustle I’m looking for!” Mike said through gritted teeth, high off the score.