Chapter 28
Iris
Neither seemed in a hurry to get back to land. Or move at all. They just stayed curled together, enjoying the last few moments of solitude, far away from the demands back on land.
“This was the best day,” Iris murmured into Finn’s neck.
“It really was,” he agreed. His lips pressed gently to her hair.
“How much longer do we have?”
“Two hours before we really need to get back to shore.”
She never questioned why he had such an exact time. She was just glad that there was no rush to leave.
They spent some time tangled together, a few moments finishing what was left of the charcuterie board. Then Finn sat and watched her swim for a few more precious moments.
She soaked up every moment of it, knowing it would likely be a while until she could visit again, with the deadlines of the election and the wedding looming large.
When she finally made it back on board, Finn pulled the anchor and started to drive.
Iris let herself dry completely right there on the sun pad.
“Iris,” he called, making her turn to look over her shoulder at him. “You’re going to want to cover up soon,” he said, holding out her panties and cover-up toward her.
She reached for them but looked off toward the shore—still quite far away.
But she slipped back into her clothes before joining Finn in the cockpit.
He moved her between him and the wheel, wrapping his arms around her while she pretended to steer.
It was lovely.
Perfect.
Iris stood, transfixed, as Finn backed the stern into the marina, but both of them let out a little chuckle when he bumped the dock.
“Okay, now you take over with the wheel.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You just need to hold it steady so I can tie us down.”
That was a simple enough task. And she got to watch Finn loop the line around the dock cleat with practiced ease. Then he glanced back at her at the helm and shot her a grin.
Iris was still on cloud nine as they walked down the dock with the sun setting romantically behind them.
His hand went around her lower back.
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Pretty as a picture, Iris thought, her lips curving up into a satisfied smile.
As if her mind had conjured it, the flash of a camera had her heartbeat stuttering.
The smile fell from her lips as one flash met another and another and another.
“This way, Finn.”
“Give us a kiss.”
“Iris, a little to your left.”
“What is this?” Iris asked, her heart plummeting as she wrenched away from Finn.
It really had been the perfect day.
Too perfect.
His timing was too precise.
He’d taken her on a date to set them up for a photo op.
She wanted to see shock or anger on his face, like she felt on her own.
“Iris …” he said, his tone placating.
The words were there, hanging heavy in the air around them.
Think of the optics. Don’t make a scene.
Campaign over everything, even her comfort.
She was hardly even dressed. Which was fine for a stroll down the dock toward the car. It was a complete other thing to have that image plastered all over gossip blogs and magazine covers.
Her hands folded over her chest, trying to cover up some more, painfully aware of the thin fabric and her nipple stickers.
“How was the queen?” a reporter asked.
Iris wrenched away when Finn tried to hold her tighter, tried to get her to play her part, to accept what felt like a betrayal.
Of course, the day had been perfect.
He’d planned it for the best optics.
Because he knew it was going to make the best gossip.
She stared at him for another second, all of her hurt raw on her face.
Then she turned and strode away.
Please follow me, she silently begged. Show me I matter more than what the public thinks.
But when she turned back at the start of the parking lot, he was engaged in a conversation with one of the paparazzi.
Her heart ground to dust as she watched him. Plastic smile. Practiced laugh. Never once glancing in her direction.
She’d let him in. Let herself believe. Just this once, she thought it might be real. And now the whole day felt like a carefully edited campaign ad.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, there was a flash nearby. It captured, no doubt, her heartbreak.
She whipped away and broke into a run.
She had no phone, no money, no cards, no way to get back to the city.
Once she was sure she was alone, she dove into the water, swimming as hard and fast as she could, making her way back toward Manhattan, where she pulled herself out of the water.
Her cover-up was drenched, almost completely see-through, as she sat there for a few moments, hand pressed to the aching hole in her chest.
It was the laugh from the walkway nearby that had her fighting back her tears.
The last thing she needed was someone snapping a picture of her in her heartbreak.
So as soon as her tail dried and her legs appeared, she pulled herself off the ground and walked over toward a modesty box.
Iris took one of the many pairs of well-worn flip-flops and a large red-and-white flannel that was comically oversized on her.
But she felt a little less exposed as she ducked her head and made her way through the city.
She couldn’t go back to Finn’s penthouse. She wasn’t ready to hear his excuses.
She wanted Monty, but there was no telling where he was or who he might be with. The last thing she needed was more eyes on her.
She felt raw from Selene’s cynicism, but she made her way toward the bookstore, knocking wildly on the door until Selene emerged from her attached apartment.
She stumbled toward the door, her wild purple hair pulled up in pigtails, a massively oversized pink sweater swallowing her up.
Selene’s hand rose, making the locks disengage before she yanked the door open.
Her gaze scanned her friend.
Then she sighed.
“Well. You look like a woman who accidentally trusted a man. Come on in. I’ve got tea, tequila, and hex books. Pick your poison.”
Iris followed Selene through the darkened bookstore, wishing to feel the usual comfort she did at the scent of paper, ink, and glue binding, but finding nothing but deeper wells of sadness.
“Not now, Gerty,” Selene grumbled as a book flew across the store. “Don’t you know a heartbroken woman when you see one?”
Selene’s apartment was a studio that Iris wasn’t sure was real or enchanted. Judging by the small square footage, though, Iris was inclined to believe it was good, old--fashioned Manhattan real estate.
Her friend had fully made the space her own, though. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall, soaked in a bright, happy yellow and weighed down with thousands of the romance novels she pretended not to love.
The floors were scattered with various colorful rugs, and the couch and bed were equally mismatched and cozy.
The kitchen was small and tidy, with purple cabinets and dried herbs hanging.
At the furthest end of the space was Selene’s altar, featuring storage for spell books, candles, incense, herbs, oils, and salt.
It seemed as though Iris had interrupted some sort of ritual. Supplies were spread across the altar: black crystals, a black candle, a quill pen, and a piece of paper with some writing on it.
Selene moved over toward the kitchen, flicking on the electric kettle, then reaching for two mismatched mugs before turning back to Iris.
“You smell like salt water and disappointment.” She waved Iris over toward a small two-chair dining set, the top a mosaic of Moroccan tiles.
“Do you want to talk about it, or help me look for a spell to give him an itch he can never quite scratch? Upper back. Just out of reach forever. Or enchant his tie collection to aggressively tighten anytime he is being disingenuous. Or we could keep it simple and make every seagull in the tri-state area see his face as a bull’s-eye, if you know what I mean. ”
“I don’t want to hex him,” Iris said. Then, after a little consideration: “Yet.”
“Attagirl. So, spill. What did The Suit do?”
Iris let it all spill out, this time letting the tears flow when they threatened.
Selene just listened, bringing her tissues, then her cup of tea.
When she was finally done, Selene took a deep breath. “Hmm.”
“Hmm? That’s all you have to say? Hmm?”
“Well, see, I feel like Finn would have to be monumentally stupid to do something he had to know would upset you just when the two of you had seemed to make some progress. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think he’s an idiot.”
“Are you taking his side?”
“Listen, you know how much it pains me to defend a man,” Selene said, making Iris’s lips tease up ever so slightly. “I don’t think this was Finn’s doing. This has that smarmy, self-serving, sneaky-ass campaign manager written all over it.”
That did make a certain kind of sense, when she thought about it.
“It still doesn’t explain why he didn’t come after me,” Iris insisted. “Why he chose to stay with the cameras instead of making sure I was okay.”
“No,” Selene agreed, leaning back in her chair. “No, it doesn’t explain that.”
Iris watched the steam dance from her cup. “What if he always chooses his career first?” Iris warmed her hand on the mug. “If I want to be with him, does it mean always being second in his heart?”
“I wish I had the answer for that. Maybe what you need is a little time and space to get your mind and heart in check.”
“Yeah,” Iris agreed.
“You can crash here. I end up sleeping on the couch more than the bed anyway, so it’s all yours. And I can loan you something less … nipple-prominent to wear.”
Despite the sinking sensation in her chest, Iris’s lips curved up.
“I’m afraid to take the stickers off,” she confessed.
“I think I’d rather drink a truth potion at a family dinner than pull those things off.
” A full-body shiver racked Selene’s system.
“But I will soak in a tub until I’m pruny to make a bandage peel off, rather than pull it off myself.
Oh, speaking of. That’s the bathroom, obviously.
” She waved toward the only door in the space.
“You can touch all four walls from the center. And you have to leave the door open if you want to do something like blow-dry your hair. But it has a pretty nice soaking tub. For elaborate bath rituals, a good cry, or replaying that stupid thing you said twelve years ago until your stomach is in knots.”
“I really appreciate this, Selene.”
“Don’t mention it. I never got to have sleepovers as a kid. This is kind of nice.”
“Why couldn’t you?”
“You try having a friend circle when your mom summoned a demon to help her bake sourdough, and the thing stuck around and possessed the toaster. Then it whispers things like ‘Crumb by crumb, I shall return,’ when you’re just trying to make a toaster grilled cheese at two in the morning.”
“Are you close with your mother?”
“I moved out of New England to put some buffer between us. Otherwise, she would be dropping in for full-moon rituals every month. Naked. But, yeah, I love her. And my sisters, aunts, cousins. They’re just a lot more …
magical than I choose to be. I mostly just like my books.
And convenience spells. Like the one I am doing … right now,” she said.
Selene waved her hand in the air, writing something on the air that Iris felt breeze past her, making her hair kick up and a tingle move across her skin.
“What did you do?”
“Cast a spell for a bath that stays at the perfect temperature, no matter what. Go relax. I’ll get the bed all changed and comfy. Then you can get some sleep and look at this whole situation from the right side of morning.”
Some part of Iris wanted to stay and talk, to hear more about Selene’s upbringing and crazy family. To get to know her friend, sure, but also as a distraction.
But the siren call of an endlessly warm bath had her rising and making her way toward the bathroom.
She sank into the water, feeling it warm the muscles that ached from hours of swimming—not to mention pulling Finn along with her to the ocean floor.
“Ugh,” she grumbled, sinking under the water.
The bathroom swam around her, and pretty soon, all she could hear was the thump of her pulse in her ears.
It was the most peaceful she’d felt since the boat made it back to shore.
She stayed there in her forever-warm bath for what felt like hours.
Selene came in twice. Once, to drop off some clothes to wear. The second time, to brush her teeth before bed.
When Iris finally dried, dressed, and made her way back into the main area, Selene was passed out with one arm draped over her face and the other hanging off the couch. The book she’d been reading was on the floor, face down, holding her spot until morning.
Music drifted through the air, soft and sweet, like a music box, though Iris couldn’t find the source and had to conclude it was another of Selene’s spells.
After grabbing a glass of salt water, Iris made her way back toward the bed.
She hadn’t meant to look.
Truly, she hadn’t.
Her gaze just so happened to glance down as she moved past Selene’s altar. There, she noticed that the spell her friend had been working on had something to do with Arden. Because it was his name written on that paper she’d spotted earlier.
Despite knowing it was rude, she looked at the spell book sitting open on the tabletop.
Open to a page for a banishing spell.
To Douse the Flames of Desire.
Iris glanced toward her friend, who claimed love was a scam, but read romance novels whenever she had a spare moment. It was just then that Iris recognized the song that was playing. Selene played love songs to go to sleep.
It seemed like she wasn’t the only one with confusing feelings toward a particular man.
There was something comforting in that as she slipped inside the fresh sheets that smelled like nag champa and patchouli.
But sleep didn’t claim her until the sun was already creeping across the sky.