Chapter 29 Iris
IRIS
Ismooth my hands over my dress, glancing at my reflection in the window across the train from me. The subway is surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night, but I’m glad. It gives me a moment to calm the nerves swirling through me.
I stayed up late last night, researching ideas for team-building activities, and settled on something super fun.
There’s a blacklight mini golf place in Gowanus called Glowhaus that caught my eye, and I went down a rabbit hole researching it.
It’s housed in an old warehouse by the canal, with an adjoining arcade and pizza joint, as well as a bar serving everything from craft beer to cocktails.
The kind of place that actually makes people want to show up.
Then today, I focused on finalizing the lighthouse plans. With each stroke of my pencil across the paper, I thought of Aidan. Of what I told him yesterday, that I’d never felt like this.
Of that unsettling feeling that burrowed under my skin.
And the more I thought about it, the more desperate I grew to talk to someone. Eric and I spent Monday night dissecting my issues, and he already had plans. Besides, as good a listener as Eric is, he’s never been in this position. And I need advice—real advice—about what to do.
So, I gathered my courage and reached out to the group chat.
Daisy replied almost instantly, followed by the other two, and we agreed to meet in front of Poppy’s kitchen at seven.
Now, as I exit the subway at Clark Street and climb into the frosty evening air, my stomach clenches with apprehension.
They were all so lovely last time. Even so, I worry I’m asking too much.
They don’t know me. What if they only responded out of a sense of obligation? What if they resent me for even asking?
Daisy and Violet wait outside Poppy’s place as I approach, bundled against the cold March air.
“Hey!” Daisy says, pulling me into a hug.
I stiffen awkwardly, then relax. Of course they don’t mind, I tell myself. It was their suggestion that I reach out. Savannah’s face flashes into my head, only this time she looks more like Dani, and I sigh. After years of struggling with female friendships, I never quite know what to think.
“Thanks so much for meeting me,” I say, as Violet tugs me into her arms.
“Of course!” Daisy grins. “We were talking the other day about wanting to catch up with you, but didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
“Oh,” I say, genuinely surprised. “That’s so nice.”
“Hey, guys.” Poppy appears on her stoop, closing the front door. She smiles as she descends the steps, pausing halfway when an elderly lady appears from next door and begins down her own steps. “Mrs. Sinclair?” Poppy calls in concern. “Wait there. I’ll come help.”
“Oh, Poppy,” the old lady replies, making no attempt to stop her rickety descent. “There you are. I was coming to ask if you had any of those delicious cupcakes.”
Poppy hurries up her neighbor’s steps, taking her arm. “Of course. A dozen again?”
Mrs. Sinclair nods. “Perfect. It’s my turn to host book club tomorrow evening, and the ladies won’t stop asking about your cupcakes. It’s almost as if they’re more interested in those than the book itself.”
Poppy laughs. “Consider it done. I’ll drop them by first thing tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” The old woman reaches a shaky hand for her purse, fumbling with the old-fashioned gold clasp, but Poppy stops her.
“There’s no charge, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“It’s Sylvia, dear, and I’m not taking your cupcakes for free.”
Poppy gives a huff of feigned exasperation. “I’ve told you before, I won’t take your money.”
The woman frowns. “And I’ve told you, that’s a terrible way to run a business.” She turns to start up her steps again, and Poppy takes her arm without missing a beat.
“I know.” She’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “How’s this? You give my card to each of your book club ladies, and we’ll call it even.”
Sylvia grumbles, but seems to agree, and Poppy helps her back inside. Then, she turns back to us, combing her fingers through her fiery-red hair as she returns to the sidewalk.
“Sorry. My neighbor.” She laughs. “She’s always at book club, off to the theater, or volunteering at The Met. I swear, that woman has a better social life than I do.”
Daisy grins as we head along Fruit Street. “I’ve seen her in Joe’s. She’s sweet.”
Poppy nods. “She is, but I worry about her. All alone in that big house.”
“No family?” I ask.
“They live out of town, and from what I can tell, she’s not overly close with them. She said her granddaughter visits sometimes, but I haven’t met her.”
Daisy’s smile fades. “I know what it’s like not to be close with your family,” she mutters, and I glance at her.
“We have that in common,” I say dryly.
Violet tilts her head. “But I thought you worked for your dad?”
“It’s… complicated,” I mumble. I consider leaving it there, but decide not to.
If I want to become actual friends with these people, I need to let them in, regardless of how humiliating it might be.
And the truth is, I desperately want to be friends with them.
They’re kind and funny, and make me feel so welcome.
Taking a deep breath, I tell them what I didn’t share the day we met. “My father’s forcing me to work for him to pay off my student debt.”
“Ugh,” Violet says. “Okay, now I get it. That sucks.”
“Yup.”
We walk in silence for a while, past the firm’s offices, windows dark and lifeless. Out here in the frigid night, I can almost imagine I’ve never been inside. The thought is bittersweet.
“Oh.” Violet stops us short. “That’s the architecture firm we’re meeting with,” she tells the others, and I freeze.
“Prescott & Associates?” I ask, voice squeaky as I pretend to read off the brass sign.
She nods, and I realize I don’t know what she does for work. “What do you do, exactly?”
Violet smiles. “I run a historical restoration company with my husband. We’ve acquired an old carriage house down the street, and we’re looking for an architect to help us reimagine it.
Normally we work with clients on their properties, but lately we’ve been branching into adaptive reuse.
Old warehouses, firehouses, even carriage houses.
Spaces where we can keep the history, but give them a new purpose. ”
“I love that,” I murmur. The Wetherly Cove lighthouse springs to mind, and I smile. If Aidan took on the carriage house project, I may be able to help.
Violet motions to the offices across the street. “I don’t know if this is the right firm for that, but I’ve heard good things about John Prescott. We’ve got a meeting set up the week after next.”
My heart sinks. Heat floods my face, and I glance away, relieved they can’t see under the dim street lamp. Who am I kidding? My father has barely tolerated my participation in the lighthouse project. I get the sense that, no matter how hard Aidan might push for it, this will be my last project.
Besides, I can’t imagine Dad voluntarily taking on something like a firehouse or carriage house.
He only took on the lighthouse as a favor to an old friend.
Then he forced it onto Aidan. I should warn Violet that she’s wasting her time, but the thought of revealing to her who my father is makes me uncomfortable. What if it changes how she sees me?
As we walk, something else tugs at me, a ridiculous idea I can barely entertain. I could create plans for the carriage house on my own. It’s exactly the sort of out-of-the-box project that would inspire me, that I think I’d be good at.
But I don’t have the formal qualifications. I’ve only come this far with Aidan mentoring me and picking up the parts I can’t handle, like Revit. Without him—without the firm—it’s a no-go.
And even if in some parallel universe Dad did take on the project and did allow me to work on it, how long can Aidan and I keep this up?
Me half-assing it as his assistant while I play at architect.
How long can he tell himself he doesn’t mind missing out on his partnership to be with me?
More to the point, how can we ever become anything more than stolen moments if we have to keep our relationship hidden from everyone? From my father?
I heave out a defeated breath, shoving the thoughts away as we continue on. Finally, we reach a Mediterranean restaurant on Montague Street and settle at a table near a crackling fireplace.
“Iris,” Poppy murmurs, eying me over our menus. “Are you okay? You’ve gone super quiet.”
I glance around the table, nodding quickly. “I’m fine.”
Daisy sets her menu down, a divot of concern forming between her dark brows. “You’re not. What’s going on?” When I don’t respond, she softens. “No small talk, remember?”
I chuff a quiet laugh. I can’t believe she remembers that.
“Okay,” I murmur at last, pausing as we order. I won’t talk about Violet and the firm, but I will share about Aidan. About the feeling that’s gnawing at me.
“Has something happened with…” Violet begins, trailing off.
“Aidan,” I say. “And… yes.”
Poppy’s eyes light. “Ooh!”
The three of them lean in closer, and gratitude warms my chest. That I’m here with these women and have their support.
I take a deep breath. “We, um…” How do I put it? I think of Aidan on my doorstep Monday night, telling Eric he’s my boyfriend, and smile. “We’re together.”
Poppy grins. “That’s great!”
I give a half-hearted nod. She’s right. It is great. So why do I feel so uneasy?
Daisy studies me. “The situation with your dad makes it complicated, though, right?”
“Yeah.” I let my gaze wander the restaurant, trying to put my feelings into words. “Aidan is up for partnership at the firm, and I don’t see how he can get that if he’s with me.”
Poppy nods slowly. “Does your dad know about you two?”
“No, but…” I rub my nose in frustration.
“It feels like we basically have two options. Either we tell my father about us, and Aidan loses out on the partnership, as well as possibly destroying his career altogether…” My gut seesaws at the thought.
“Or we never reveal our relationship, in which case, it can’t become permanent. ”
“Shit.” Violet scrunches her face. “Yeah, those options suck.”
I nod in agreement. The waitress delivers our drinks, and I pounce on my gin and tonic, taking a deep sip.
“I don’t know,” Daisy murmurs, looking at her friends. “We’ve all been in similar situations and figured things out, right?”
“And it’s not always that black and white,” Poppy adds. “It might seem that way now, that you can only be together if someone gets hurt or loses something, but there’s usually a way to work these issues out.”
Violet nods. “We’re living proof.”
I absorb this, mentally considering other options.
I guess I could quit the firm. My father would probably be relieved, but I still need money, and when I think about returning to one of the many meaningless jobs I’ve had before, my heart wilts.
I wasn’t hired as an architect, but this is the first time I’ve felt I’m contributing something worthwhile in my work.
Still, I’d give it up for Aidan in a heartbeat. But would that fix anything? Dad will never approve of Aidan and me regardless, and if I’m not at the firm, there’s only one person left for him to take that out on: Aidan.
Poppy leans across the table. “I think the question is, do you want something long-lasting with him?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. Of course I want something permanent with him. That’s all I want. To fall asleep beside him, wake in his bed, plan for a future together.
I’ve never felt this intensely about a man before.
Never felt like I could be myself, could let him see every messy part of me and know he’ll still be there.
Never felt like a man could somehow be both my safe space and the riskiest thing I’ve ever done.
If it doesn’t work out with him, if Dad turns around and offers him a partnership…
I don’t know how I’d deal with that. I don’t know how I’d go back to my life without Aidan, without his protectiveness, his tenderness, his touch that makes me come harder than I even knew was possible.
I’ve overcome a lot of setbacks in my life, fumbled my way through many failures and fuck-ups, but getting over Aidan would be impossible.
And that truly scares me.
“I’m in love with him,” I murmur, the realization settling over me. That’s what this feeling is.
And… holy shit.
“Wow,” Violet says, eyes wide. “That’s big.”
“Yeah.” I exhale a shaky laugh, wiping my palms on my dress under the table. Of course I’m in love with him. How could I not be? He cares about me in a way no one ever has. He encourages me, stands up for me. He’s even putting his career on the line for me.
My stomach hollows. Every time I think about it, I’m swamped with guilt. If I hadn’t made a move on him in that motel room, he wouldn’t be in this situation.
But I know that’s not true. He’d been defending me before then, and part of me knows it would have happened either way.
My fingers find the cupcake sitting around my neck, touching the cool silver, reminding myself of his words from Monday: You’re what I want.
The way he said I’m so fucking sure when I asked him if this was worth it.
I cast my mind over the last week, realizing it’s not only me he’s changed with—it’s work, too.
He’s obsessing less over the prestigious projects he’s “supposed” to be doing, instead celebrating as the Bushwick studios near completion, enjoying puzzling out the challenges of the lighthouse with me.
It’s amazing to see him grow like this, and only made me fall harder.
“It’s scary, right?” Daisy says gently. “When everything feels up in the air, and the only thing you’re certain about is how you feel?”
“Fucking terrifying,” I mutter, and that’s putting it mildly. I’m so used to scaring men off with my emotions, my intensity. Aidan’s right. I feel deeply, way too deeply. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I blurt it out and it’s too much?
Poppy squeezes my arm. “You’ll figure it out,” she assures me, and I try to muster a faint smile.
There’s not much I can do now. I can’t dial down my feelings, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could. It’s terrifying, but good, feeling this for someone. Now, all I can do is hold on, and hope he feels the same.
Hope we figure this out before it blows up in our faces.