Chapter 36 Aidan #2
“Ready for Iris. Trust that she’s coming back to you, and think about what you want her to come back to.” With that, Soph turns to the Chinese food on the table. I watch her pop open the fried rice, systematically picking out the shrimp. Despite my mood, it makes me smile.
And for the first time since I walked away from Iris’s doorstep, I feel a tiny bud of hope. I can’t rush Iris. Can’t make her feel okay.
But I can do the one thing I should have done a long time ago.
The office is quiet when I arrive the next morning. I deliberately came early to clear my desk and be gone before the team arrives. My resignation email already waits in John’s inbox, and while part of me would prefer not to speak to him again, another part knows we aren’t done.
When John shoves my office door open, briefcase in hand, coat still on, I’m not surprised.
“What the hell is this, Brooks?” he barks, holding up his phone. “You’re resigning?”
“Yes,” I say simply, placing a framed blueprint into the box on my desk. I’ve got movers coming later to collect the larger items, like the two drafting tables and my desk, but I wanted to grab the essentials.
“Why?” John asks, and when I glance at him, he looks genuinely baffled. I almost laugh.
I’m more certain than ever that starting my own firm is the right thing to do.
I don’t have an office space, don’t have clients, but I have a good portfolio.
I have talent and dedication, two things John has repeatedly overlooked.
He might try to destroy me, but I can’t let that hold me back.
John’s held me back for years, and that’s before I think about all the ways he’s held Iris back.
I’ve had enough. It’s time for me to forge my own path.
“The reasons I gave you yesterday,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I’m done.”
His face contorts with rage, and he hurls his briefcase onto the Chesterfield. “The hell you are.”
I ignore him, reaching for my drafting tools.
“You’re resigning because of this ADHD bullshit?”
My fingers tighten on the T-square, and I turn back. “It’s not bullshit, John.” I think of yesterday and hesitate. I shouldn’t talk to him about Iris, not without her here, but if I don’t say this, no one will. “If you stopped and looked, you’d see it for yourself.”
“What?” John says, folding his arms. “What would I see?”
I stare at him, wondering if for one second he might be prepared to listen. If there might be a chance to get through to him. Glancing at my office door, I lower my voice, not letting myself make the same mistake I made yesterday.
“You’d see Iris is struggling. She’s trying, and she’s struggling.”
There’s a tiny flicker of something I can’t read on John’s face. Guilt, maybe, or remorse, but it vanishes, and he lifts his gaze skyward.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She needs to focus, to actually apply herself. She’s always been that way.”
Anger burns white-hot in my chest, and my fists ball at my side. I force myself to take a measured breath, so I don’t explode.
“That’s not what this is,” I say through my teeth. “She’s not lazy, John, she’s overwhelmed. Iris tries so hard she’s burning herself out. She’s been compensating her entire life, but you’ve been too busy tearing her down to notice.”
John’s jaw hardens to stone. “Watch yourself, Brooks.”
“No,” I say, standing taller. “You need to hear this. You’ve misunderstood her. Judged her for something she can’t control. You’ve made her life harder because you don’t want to see the truth.”
His gaze moves over me, sharp as a knife. “You seem awfully invested in my daughter.”
The words land like a grenade. A warning. A threat. One misstep, and I could blow everything to smithereens.
I want to tell John that of course I’m invested in her. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, with more resilience and creativity than anyone I know, but I can’t. I won’t. It’s not my place, and I’ve done enough damage.
I meet his gaze head-on, forcing myself not to flinch. “This isn’t about me,” I say evenly. “It’s about the fact that she’s talented and hardworking, and you treat her like a failure.”
John scowls, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s old enough to look after herself. You’re not doing her any favors by babying her.”
“I’m not babying her,” I bite out. “I’m seeing her for who she is. You could too, if you wanted to, but you’re too damn stubborn to try.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I expect him to press me again, to ask if there’s something going on with Iris and me, but he shakes his head.
“If you’re resigning because of her, then you’re making the biggest mistake of your career.”
I dump the rest of my belongings into the box, hoisting it into my arms. “Thanks for the advice, John, but what you think no longer matters.” And with a deep, steadying breath, I leave the office.
The relief is palpable as I step onto Fruit Street. I’ve spent so long trying to get approval from withholding men—my father, John—and for what? I don’t need their approval. I can become the man I needed all along.
And I can only hope that man will be enough for Iris.