Chapter 2
2
Iris doubted that Angel remembered her. Their brief conversation at Violet’s anti-wedding party three years ago had predated his rise to megafame, and his life had drastically changed since then. Before, Iris hadn’t heard much about Angel outside of the few times Violet had mentioned him, and Iris had certainly never heard any of his music. He’d also looked slightly different—no burgundy hair or nose ring, and no expensive clothes, as Violet hadn’t yet worked her stylist magic on him. Now Iris couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing at least one of Angel’s songs. He was on television, starring in Adidas and Peloton commercials. He was on the cover of magazines, flexing his muscles, gazing at the camera. She’d even once seen an ad for his last album on the side of a New York City bus. His sound was like upbeat R & B. People obviously liked his music, because he’d won a Grammy and consistently topped the Billboard charts.
The Save Face Beauty team’s intention had been to share the message that skincare should be a universal topic, regardless of gender. And because Angel was the current man of the moment, he’d been Iris’s first choice for the brand ambassadorship.
Over the last few months, she had gotten to know the details of his face intimately as she pored over images from his Save Face Beauty photo shoots. She’d worked with the PR team to orchestrate a weeklong meet-and-greet tour at several Refine stores across the country, where Angel would promote their new skincare line. Refine was one of the leading retailers of personal care and beauty products. The Refine customer demographic was made up of people aged eighteen to thirty-four, which was the same demographic as Angel’s fan base.
The tour was set to take place in a couple weeks, and Angel would be accompanied by Iris’s colleague Paloma, the head of PR. Iris’s hope was that Angel’s involvement would help turn things around for the company.
She peered around the tree trunk as Angel angled his face closer to his phone camera and grinned. Iris was still thrown by the woof, woof he had spoken into his phone a moment ago. Was he talking to a girlfriend? A woman with a kink who liked when he used canine speak? Over the past three years, Angel had been tied to a string of beautiful starlets. While waiting in line at the grocery store, Iris often saw pictures of him on the front cover of gossip magazines, arm in arm with another gorgeous, long-legged woman. Most recently it had been Gigi Harrison, the lead actress in several action and superhero films.
“Woof, woof, pretty girl,” he sang.
Iris couldn’t help it. She laughed.
Angel’s head jerked up. He glanced over and caught eyes with Iris. A deep pink hue spread across his brown cheeks, and Iris backed away, embarrassed to have been caught.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Although, she clearly had meant to do just that.
Angel blinked at her, then glanced at his phone. “Bye, girl,” he whispered, waving at his phone’s camera. He slipped his phone in his pants pocket. He turned to look at Iris again, leaning his shoulder against the tree. The corner of his mouth hitched up, the beginnings of a smile.
“So,” he said, “that’s what I sound like when I talk to my dog.”
“Your dog?” Oh, she had been so wrong. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“Yeah, she has separation anxiety, so I put one of those doggy cameras in my place to check in on her when I’m gone.”
“I see.” Iris didn’t know what else to say. She’d never had a pet growing up and therefore didn’t understand Angel’s dedication. Lately she’d considered getting an easy pet for Calla, though. A hamster or gerbil. Maybe a goldfish.
She wondered if she should properly reintroduce herself. Since Violet was Angel’s stylist and had styled him for the SFB campaign shoot, Iris knew that Violet had told Angel that she worked at SFB, but Iris hadn’t been at his photo shoot to meet him, so she didn’t know if he was aware of her level of involvement in his campaign.
But she had rudely listened in on his conversation just now, so she should probably give him some privacy. Also, it was the weekend, she was at her sister’s wedding and she didn’t want to talk about work. Given the way that Angel disappeared from the party to FaceTime his dog, she would hazard a guess that he didn’t want to talk about work either. She’d have a chance at a professional redo at some point in the future. Plus, her role was more behind the scenes. Client care was a job for Paloma and the PR team.
“Again, I apologize,” she said. “Please call your dog back and continue your conversation.” She waved politely and set off through the vineyard back toward the venue.
“Hey, wait,” Angel said, jogging to catch up with her. He easily maneuvered his body, managing not to be sideswiped by an overgrown grape bush. “You’re Violet’s sister, right? Iris?”
Now it was her turn to blink in surprise. He remembered her.
She slowed her walk, angling herself toward him. “Yes. Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled, and it was as though Iris watched the act in slow motion. His full lips lifted then curved. His straight white teeth revealed themselves. His eyes crinkled in the corners. A picture of warmth.
Gorgeous , her brain said.
Well, obviously he was gorgeous. His voice wasn’t the only reason that a good portion of the country was currently obsessed with him. Saying that he was gorgeous was simply a fact. She’d noticed that about him when they’d first met, before all the glitz and glam.
“I’m Angel.” He held out his hand. “We met a couple years ago. You probably don’t remember.”
Iris almost laughed to herself again. To think that he thought that she didn’t remember him .
“I remember,” she said. She placed her hand in his, and she felt a zing shoot straight up her arm, from her fingers to her shoulder, as his hand engulfed hers. He didn’t break eye contact as their palms pressed together. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I work at Save Face Beauty,” she said, deciding that now would be the best time to tell him. “We’re so thrilled to have you as our brand ambassador.”
“Violet did tell me you worked there.” He grinned. “Thank y’all for giving me the job.”
Iris felt her stomach do something funny as he grinned at her.
“Do you always introduce yourself that way?” she asked after a moment.
Angel lifted his chin, tilting his head slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Angel must be your stage name, right?”
“Oh, nah.” He laughed softly. It had a melodic quality. “I was intentionally named Angel at birth. My mom is very religious.”
“Really?” Iris thought of the images her team had displayed during their many ambassador strategy meetings over the last few months. Photos of Angel shirtless, his abs and muscles lathered in baby oil. Clips from his music videos as he grinded with his backup dancers. She wondered how his mom felt about that.
“Yeah, she’s hard-core,” he said. “Why are you out here and not inside?”
His thumb brushed against the knuckle of her pointer finger and that was when Iris realized that their hands were still clasped together. Blinking, she let her hand drop and she pivoted forward, continuing to walk.
“I just wanted some fresh air,” she said, glancing at him sidelong as he walked beside her. He was very tall. And he smelled nice. Like cinnamon.
It was a simple observation. For research purposes. She could now confirm that cinnamon-scented cologne smelled nice on a man. Maybe Save Face Beauty could incorporate cinnamon scents into their products. She’d float the idea at a meeting. That was all.
“I feel you,” Angel said. He spread his arms wide. “It’s beautiful out here. I thought I’d give my lady a call and let her see some nature.”
Iris quirked an eyebrow. “You mean your dog?”
“Yeah, Maxine. She’s the only lady in my life at the moment.”
Well, it looked like things were over with Gigi Harrison, then.
“Maxine?” Iris repeated, smiling a little. “That’s an elegant name for a dog.”
“Maxine is an elegant lady.” He pulled out his phone and showed Iris a photo of a brown boxer puppy with a black satin bow tied around her neck. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth as she chewed on a bone.
Iris’s smile broadened. “Elegant indeed.”
“Thank you.” Angel’s eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “I won’t lie, though. I also came out here to escape your younger cousins. They kept taking pictures of me while I was trying to eat. Tomorrow photos of me covering my steak in mashed potatoes will probably be reshared all over Instagram.”
Iris laughed, thinking of her teen cousins, who mostly wanted to come to Violet’s wedding so that they could get a glimpse of her famous clients. Somewhere, back inside the venue, Karamel Kitty was probably being bombarded for photos as well.
“Wait a minute,” Iris said. “You cover your steak in mashed potatoes? Is that like a Southern thing?”
Angel shrugged. “More like a me thing, I think. How did you know that I’m from the South?”
There was the slight twang in his accent for one, less prominent now than it had been three years ago. From her team’s research, she knew that Angel had been born and raised in a small town in Georgia. But so much about him was common knowledge to the average citizen.
“Oh, there’s this thing called the internet,” she said. “If you use a tool called a search engine, you can find the answer to almost any question.”
His brows lifted. “Really? Any question? Sounds fake.”
“It also lies, so sometimes it is fake.”
“See, now that’s confusing,” he said. Then, “But…what you’re trying to say is that you googled me?”
She brought her index finger and thumb together. “Only a little.”
“Oh, just a little, huh?” he said, laughing. And Iris laughed too. It felt nice to laugh so easily this way. She noticed another obvious change in Angel since their previous conversation three years ago. Back then, he’d seemed a little nervous, but now he was clearly much more comfortable in his own skin. He was dripping in charisma.
Dusk was beginning to settle, and fireflies swirled in and out of the vine rows, passing in front of her and Angel.
“So, what were you escaping from?” he asked.
Iris looked at him, taken by surprise at his question. She hadn’t been escaping, had she? She’d just needed a moment of quiet. Escaping made it sound as though she were trying to outrun her feelings, which, from experience, she knew was impossible.
Angel watched her closely, waiting for her reply. The only thing he knew about her was that she was Violet’s older sister and she worked at SFB. He didn’t know about Terry or her unfortunate backstory. He didn’t see widow written across her forehead, like so many others saw. To him, she could have been anyone.
“I guess you can say I’ve had a long day,” she supplied.
“Me too.”
Up ahead, she could see the twinkle lights hung on the back patio. Silhouettes of servers taking smoke breaks moved in and out of her view.
“You know this is the first wedding I’ve been to in my twenties?” Angel said. “People aren’t getting married like that anymore.”
“Half of marriages do end in divorce.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “But this is the first one of your twenties? How old are you?”
She’d looked up his age at work, but as she’d already noted, sometimes the internet lied.
“I’ll be twenty-nine in a couple weeks,” he said. “You?”
“Thirty-two.”
He was younger than her, but not by that much.
“The last wedding that I went to was back home in Georgia,” he said. “I was sixteen and they asked me to sing ‘Amazing Love’ by Fred Hammond. You know it? It’s a gospel song.”
Iris shook her head. Her parents had taken her and her sisters to church every Easter and Christmas Eve as kids, but that was as far as her experience with religion went.
“It’s a good one, but anyway, it was the middle of August, and the church was blazing inside. I mean, blazing . My button-up was so covered in sweat, you could see right through the cotton. The bride passed out on her way up to the altar.”
Iris burst into laughter. “Stop. You’re messing with me.”
“I’m so serious,” Angel said, smile widening as he looked at her. “And while they fanned off the bride, they made me stand up and sing way before I was supposed to. I was so dehydrated, I almost passed out myself! My voice was trash that day.”
Iris was still laughing. “Did you at least get paid to sing?”
“Of course not. My mom was friends with the bride and she told them I’d do it as a favor.”
“Child labor exploitation. Terrible.”
“Right? That wasn’t my real job, though. I was cleaning toilets at Cook Out and getting chased by dogs on my paper route.” He smirked at her. “What about you? You look like you had a nice, chill job. Like selling perfume at the mall or something.”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. Aside from the semester that I worked at TGI Fridays, I worked at my parents’ plant nursery. I was elbow- and knee-deep in soil every weekend.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Makes sense now. Daughters named after flowers.”
“And a church boy named after a spiritual being.”
He grinned, inclining his head toward her. “Sometimes I wish my mom named me something more common. Like Jim.”
“Or two common names together,” she said. “Jim Bob.”
“Bobby Tom.”
“Tom Wyatt.”
“Tom Wyatt,” he repeated. “That’s got a ring to it. Maybe I should make that my stage name.”
“Don’t forget to give me credit,” she said, and Angel laughed.
“What about you?” he asked. “What’s the last wedding you went to?”
It had been Paloma’s wedding two years ago. And before that, it had been her own ceremony.
“It was a while back,” she said.
They were close enough to the venue now that she could hear the faint sound of music playing. It was a slow song. “Spend My Life with You” by Eric Benét and Tamia.
Iris stopped abruptly. This song had always reminded her of Terry.
“You okay?” Angel asked.
Iris blinked quickly, glancing at him. She remembered that he didn’t really know her. Maybe that was why she answered truthfully.
“Not really,” she said quietly. “Today has been…off.”
He nodded slowly, expression devoid of judgment. “It be like that sometimes.”
“Yeah.” She stared down at the straps of her gold open-toe heels.
“Too much maid of honor pressure?” he asked.
Iris managed a small laugh. She brought her gaze back up to his face and found that he was smiling at her.
“Definitely,” she joked. “Try to avoid being a maid of honor if you can.”
“I’ll take that advice to heart.”
She glanced toward the open doors of the venue again. Inside, she spotted her parents swaying together. Somewhere, Lily and Nick were probably holding hands with Calla, slow dancing too, or maybe the three of them were eating cake. She should probably go back inside and join them.
“Hey,” Angel said. “You wanna dance?”
She squinted. “Out here, you mean?”
“Sure.” At her skeptical expression, he smiled innocently. “Once I step inside, your cousins will go back to recording my every move. This might be my only chance to slow dance all night in peace.”
Iris was unable to hold back her chuckle. The song changed. “I Want to Be Your Man,” by Roger filtered outside. The DJ was really throwing it back with that one.
“What do you say?” Angel asked, holding out his hand.
Iris stared at his long, outstretched fingers. His nails were buffered shiny and clean.
It had been so long since she’d danced with someone. She looked up at Angel, who waited patiently for her answer. His mouth curled into a soft smile, dimples deepening. She couldn’t say exactly what she saw there in his expression, but whatever it was made her step forward and take his hand. He pulled her close and brought her arms up to loop around his neck. He gently rested his hands at her waist. Slowly, they began to sway from side to side.
“This is nice,” he said quietly.
Iris nodded, watching his pulse jump at the base of his throat. She rarely found herself feeling nervous or flustered in the presence of a man these days, but for some reason, being this up close to Angel, a literal superstar, she was suddenly tongue-tied.
He began to hum lowly, tapping his fingers against her waist in time to the music. “You’re a good dancer,” he said, keeping his voice at that deep, low tone. She swallowed thickly as goose bumps spread across her arms.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she managed.
“No,” he said simply.
He gazed down at her, and Iris, who was usually made of much stronger stuff, could only gaze back. The song was winding down. Their moment in time was coming to a close. At the end of this song lay real life back inside of the venue.
Angel’s eyes slowly lowered to her mouth. Iris felt her heartbeat pick up pace.
“Do you…” he started, then stopped. “Would you maybe be interested in taking another walk on a different day?”
Iris was shocked by how quickly the word yes almost tumbled off her tongue.
What was she doing ?
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” She stepped out of his embrace, a quick, jerky movement.
Angel blinked, his empty hands grasping at air. “Wait—”
“Have a good night,” she mumbled.
Before he could say anything else, she hurried back into the ballroom, forcing herself to keep her gaze forward. She saw both of her sisters holding hands with Calla, dancing and laughing in the center of the dance floor. They waved when they saw Iris. She didn’t slow down until she reached Calla, wrapping her arms around her daughter and squeezing her close, reminding herself of who she was.
Iris was capable. Reliable. She was a problem solver. Ambitious and motivated. She was often tired. Often lonely. And she didn’t live a life where a dance with a famous singer at dusk might lead to a magical love affair.
That wasn’t her story.
She’d already met the love of her life and he’d died. On the most ordinary of Sunday afternoons, he’d left to buy more diapers, and the next thing she knew, police officers were at her door, saying words like car accident and deepest apologies all while Calla cried and squirmed, fussy in her arms. Their lives had changed in a millisecond.
Most people didn’t end up with their soulmates. They settled for whoever was there at the right time. Or they ended up alone. Iris was lucky to have experienced the years she had with Terry, luckier than most. If she was going to risk putting herself back out there again, she wouldn’t be silly enough to think that things would work with someone like Angel, because there were several reasons to prove otherwise. One, she wouldn’t risk getting romantic with the new brand ambassador because Save Face Beauty couldn’t handle another controversy. Two, Angel was a celebrity who didn’t seem to have plans to settle down anytime soon, least of all with an ordinary person like her. Why would he, when he had access to the Gigi Harrisons of the world? And most important, she had Calla to consider. If she was going to bring someone into her and Calla’s fold, he’d have to be capable of stability, and Angel’s life seemed to be the opposite of that. His lifestyle was too different.
Iris wanted companionship, true, but she was going to be practical about finding it.
“You having fun, baby girl?” she asked Calla.
Calla grinned, hugging Iris tightly. “Yes! I’ve had so much cake, Mom.”
Iris laughed and pretended as though she couldn’t still feel the sensation of Angel’s fingers pressed gently at her waist.