Chapter Thirty #2
They were shown to their guest room, the aesthetic of which was a combination of Scandi-minimalism and yacht interior, and Iris and Gabe were finally alone. Gabe fell back on the bed with a sigh. “This place is something.”
“It’s iconic.” Iris unpacked the formal dress she’d brought and hung it up.
He pushed out his bottom lip. “Not my style.”
“Oh no? What’s your preferred style of beach mansion?”
“I dunno. Something more…” He sat up and pressed on the bed—it didn’t give much—“comfortable?”
She didn’t entirely disagree. The designer in her loved the interplay of textures, the smooth wood, the rough natural stone, the open invitation to nature via glass and raw materials, but the overall effect was…austere. Yet she felt defensive of Wolff. “Guest bedrooms are always a little spare.”
He pulled a phone charger from his duffel. “He shut down Lindsay pretty quick.”
“Did you see Bill’s face when she asked that? I didn’t even think of the security threats he must face as a public billionaire. And he’s got his kid here. I think it’s sweet he’s protective.”
“I guess.”
She and Gabe decided to spend the afternoon at the beach instead of the pool like the others. But first, Iris had one secret thing to take care of.
While Gabe was in their bathroom, Iris unpacked the insulated lunch bag full of fertility medicine she had brought from home.
She still hadn’t told him about the egg freezing, and it was going to take some scheming to both administer and store her refrigeration-required meds this weekend without Gabe, or anyone else, noticing.
She called to him that she was going to get them some drinks to bring down to the beach and left.
Iris walked swiftly down the glass-walled corridor; the flagstone flooring was refreshingly cool on her bare feet. Her first stop was the powder room that she had noted on the house tour. She slipped inside and locked the door.
Iris had the routine down now. She set up her little vials and prepackaged needles and syringe on the ample counter space and made quick work of titrating her dosage.
After giving an RN-professional flick to the syringe, she pinched the flesh on her lower abdomen and did her silent three-count before plunging it into her skin.
Afterward, she hiked up her shorts so the waistband wouldn’t touch the sensitive spot.
She packed everything away again in the lunchbox, including the used needle; she couldn’t leave it in the trash, as it looked like drug paraphernalia.
Next, she’d have to borrow some space in the fridge.
Luckily, people as rich as Jonathan didn’t do their own food shopping or cooking, so she risked only Chef René finding her hormone therapy.
When she arrived in the kitchen, however, she saw Marilyn in front of the open refrigerator, loading fresh peaches into one of the unusually clean, clear drawers.
Iris thought of turning on her heel and aborting the mission, but she figured that would look more conspicuous than simply putting the small insulated pack in the fridge.
“Hey hon, whaddya need?” Marilyn asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Nothing, I just have some medication I need to keep cold.”
“Diabetic?”
“No, um…” Iris weighed the costs of telling the truth or a lie. “It’s fertility medication. I’m freezing my eggs.”
Marilyn’s eyebrows lifted, the fast talker briefly rendered speechless, before clasping her in a surprise hug.
“Good girl, that’s so smart,” Marilyn said into her hair before releasing her.
“If I had a daughter, I’d tell her to do the same thing.
You know, I had a terrible time getting pregnant.
Five miscarriages, and nobody talked about it then.
That was the most heartbroken, loneliest time of my life.
Finally got one to stick just as my marriage was ending, but nothing could dampen my joy.
Patrick was my rainbow baby, my miracle.
” The softest expression passed over her face as she thought of him. “Is the process hard?”
“I just started. The injections aren’t fun, but they aren’t as painful as I thought. But sometimes it feels like punishment for still being single.”
“No! It’s your reward for not being stupid. Believe me, if I could’a had Patrick without my first husband, I would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble.”
Iris chuckled. It was the first moment of genuine bonding she had felt with Marilyn, all the more gratifying for having been hard to earn.
She felt safe enough to venture one more confidence.
“Is it all right if we keep this between us? I haven’t told a lot of people, and it’s only a two-week treatment, so soon it will be behind me. ”
“Of course. Jonathan doesn’t need to know. We don’t need to give men any more excuse to call us hormonal, right?”
Iris agreed and thanked her, happy to have gotten to the softer side of Marilyn. She always forgot how much she missed that maternal energy until she got a taste of it.
Walking back through the glass corridor, Iris glanced outside across the patio, where she saw Jonathan and Patrick in conversation by the pool.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Jonathan gently cupped a hand around the back of Patrick’s head.
It was a familial and comforting gesture, and Patrick seemed to nod gratefully. The scene touched Iris’s heart.
Maybe they were all looking for the parents they’d lost or who had let them down.