Chapter 10
10
Back at the hotel, Iris took a hot shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy hotel robe. While responding to emails, she scarfed down the burger and fries she’d ordered through room service. Afterward, she FaceTimed her mom to speak to Calla, and she was surprised when Violet answered, holding a thirty-two-ounce mason jar filled with water.
“Do you know how many quarts are in a gallon?” Violet asked, in lieu of a hello.
“Four, I think. Why? And why are you answering Mom’s phone?”
“I’m trying to drink a gallon of water a day, but it’s hard, so I thought maybe if I separated it into quarts, I’d have better luck.” Violet brushed her silk-pressed hair over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m answering Mom’s phone because she and Calla are preoccupied with baking.”
Violet angled the phone so that Iris could see the scene behind her. Dahlia and Calla were at the kitchen counter, rolling out cookie dough onto a flour-covered cutting board. Dahlia was still wearing her Greenehouse T-shirt.
“Cookies before dinner?” Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t kill the messenger,” Violet said. “Calla, your mom is on FaceTime.”
Calla looked up and ran over to the phone, beaming at Iris, which always warmed Iris’s heart in an indescribable way.
“Hi, Mom,” she said. “We’re baking sugar cookies and snickerdoodles.”
“We’re eating them after dinner,” Dahlia called.
Iris smiled, satisfied with this. “That sounds good. Can you save me some, baby?”
Calla nodded solemnly. “I’ll hide some for you in a good spot so Pop Pop won’t find them.”
Iris and Violet laughed, well aware of their dad’s sweet tooth.
“I heard you had some bad weather over there in Seattle,” Dahlia said, coming closer into view.
“Yeah, we had to shut down the event, actually,” Iris said. “But Angel was really great about it. He bought every skincare bundle and gave them to the fans for free.”
“Wow,” Dahlia said, inclining her head.
“That sounds like something he would do,” Violet added.
Calla was eager to continue baking, so Iris promised that she’d call again tomorrow. Calla and Dahlia returned to the kitchen counter, while Violet took the phone with her into the living room and settled onto the couch.
“Why are you at Mom’s on a weekday evening?” Iris asked. Since Violet had taken an extended vacation from work post-honeymoon, Iris figured that Violet and Xavier would still be wrapped up and secluded away in newlywed bliss.
“I tagged along with Xavier to his summer league game,” Violet said. “We stopped by Mom and Dad’s on the way back.”
Xavier appeared suddenly and leaned down into the camera. He kissed Violet on the forehead and smiled at Iris. “What’s up, Iris?”
“Hey, Xavier.”
“I told your dad that I’d keep him company outside, so that’s where I’m headed,” he said. “Just wanted to say hi.”
Violet smiled adoringly at her husband as he walked out of view. In the background, Iris heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.
“Lily just got here,” Violet said, craning her neck to see better. “Oh, and she brought Nick.”
“I guess everyone is there without me, huh?” Iris said jokingly, but she felt loneliness creep across her skin.
Seconds later, Lily plopped onto the couch beside Violet. Nick followed after her, hugging Violet and waving at Iris.
“Nick made his deadline for his next book,” Lily said, smiling proudly. “So we’re celebrating.”
“By coming to Mom and Dad’s?” Violet scrunched her nose. “That’s boring.”
“By eating a home-cooked meal with family,” Lily corrected.
“That’s awesome, Nick,” Iris said. “Congrats on making the deadline.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Nick said, smiling shyly.
“Xavier is out back with our dad if you want to spend time with the menfolk,” Violet said to Nick.
Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I should say hi to everyone.” He squeezed Lily’s hand and waved goodbye to Iris.
“What’s Dad doing outside anyway?” Iris asked.
“Gardening, last time I checked,” Violet said.
“Isn’t he tired from being at the store all day?” Iris thought of Benjamin’s persistent backaches. “One of you should check on him. I think he’s been working himself too hard.”
“I’ll check on him after we hang up,” Lily said. “How’s everything going with the tour?”
“It’s going well, thankfully. We’re only on day two, but I’m hoping that the strong sales continue. Angel’s got some diehard fans, that’s for sure.”
“How is Angel?” Violet asked. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that went beyond normal curiosity.
“Today he stood outside in the pouring rain and took a million pictures with all the fans. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t caught the flu. I think he’s doing a great job.”
Violet and Lily exchanged a look, quick and imperceptible to the naked eye. But Iris knew her sisters.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?” Violet blinked innocently. Lily remained mum.
“Why did you look at each other like that just now?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Violet said.
At the same time, Lily blurted, “I’m pretty sure he’s into you.”
Violet nudged Lily in the side and Lily winced.
“Why do you say that?” Iris asked. Her voice sounded like a squeak.
She knew that Angel had expressed interest in her before, which was already mind-boggling enough, but she didn’t know that her sisters were also aware. Had they somehow seen the two of them dancing together outside at Violet’s wedding? Had they seen the way that Iris had gazed at him, completely awestruck? Had they seen the way he’d stared deep into her eyes, mesmerizing her? If so, she had no clue how to explain herself. Her stomach muscles tightened as she looked at her sisters.
Violet and Lily exchanged another glance.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Violet said, attempting a diplomatic tone. “He asked me about you and I told him that you weren’t really in a place to date, but that was before I knew you wanted to start dating again.”
Against her will, Iris’s heart dusted off its drumsticks for another solo routine. “W-when did he ask about me?”
“It’s happened more than once over the years. First, after he met you at my anti-wedding party. Then sometime after his first album dropped. Most recently at my actual wedding a few weeks ago…”
Iris blinked, piecing this information together slowly. Her brain was doing mental gymnastics. All this time Angel had been asking about her? Even earlier than their conversation in the vineyard? She couldn’t believe it. But it had to be true, because Violet wouldn’t lie to her about something like that.
“When you told him that I wasn’t in a place to date,” she said, trying to fight through her shock, “did you say why?”
Violet shook her head. “I didn’t tell him about Terry, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh,” Iris said.
Violet and Lily watched her silently, their eyes round and alert.
“Angel is a good guy,” Violet said. “If you’re curious to know what I think.”
Iris thought of Angel’s reaction earlier when she’d revealed that Terry had died. She remembered his patient expression and softened voice.
“I know that he’s a good guy,” Iris said. “Of course he is. But that’s not…I’m just not looking for something like that.”
“?‘Like that’ meaning…” Violet rolled her hand in a circling motion, urging Iris to elaborate.
“A relationship with a…celebrity,” Iris said. “It wouldn’t make sense for me or for Calla. And anyway, he’s my company’s brand ambassador. It would be inappropriate.”
Violet frowned. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You look really cozy in that robe,” Lily said, changing the subject. “I hope you’re getting some rest.”
“Yeah, you know, I think I’ll relax and watch a movie or something,” Iris said.
Lily smiled softly. “That sounds nice. We’ll text you later?”
Iris nodded. “Okay.”
“Have a good night, love you,” Violet said. She glanced at Lily and mumbled something to her as they ended the call.
Iris sighed and lay back against the plush pillows. She didn’t want her sisters to feel like they had to walk on eggshells around her when it came to Terry or her love life.
She wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t wild and ridiculously flattering that Angel had had his eye on her from afar for the last three years. She was still trying to let that realization set in. She thought back to their first conversation at Violet’s anti-wedding party, and how Angel had saved her from a fall. He’d been so sweet to her that day. The more time that she spent around him now, the more she realized that not only was he still that same sweet, handsome guy, he was charismatic and kind and gracious. But there was no point in thinking about what logically couldn’t and wouldn’t be. It was better to be realistic.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to open the Meet Me app, curious to see what type of men Seattle had to offer. She’d read plenty of success stories about couples who’d met on this app, but she felt no excitement as she swiped past dozens of faces until her vision blurred. Maybe it was best to try again once she was back home.
Tossing her phone to the side, she reached for the television remote and flipped through the channels. Maybe she should order a glass of wine from room service. Having a nice glass of wine in a comfy hotel bed with a huge television before her would usually sound divine. But as rain pounded against the windows, Iris turned off the television and shifted onto her side, staring at the storm.
She couldn’t stop picturing the look in Angel’s eyes as he’d taken her hand earlier in the car. She felt restless. Antsy. She needed to get out of this hotel room.
Grabbing her phone again, she almost texted Bree and asked if she wanted to get a drink at the hotel restaurant, but it had been a long day, and Bree probably wanted time to herself. As Bree’s superior, Iris didn’t want Bree to feel obligated to hang out with her. She’d sit at the restaurant bar by herself instead.
She got dressed and went downstairs. The upscale downtown Seattle hotel was only a ten-minute walk from the waterfront, but the restaurant was nearly empty, thanks to the storm. Iris took a seat at the bar, which was nearly empty as well, save for a Black man with a thick, long beard, who was seated several chairs down from her. He wore a baseball cap pulled low and a track suit jacket zipped up to his neck. He was writing something down on a notepad. When he lifted his head to scratch his chin, Iris saw that he was wearing aviator sunglasses. Inside, when the sun wasn’t even out. Okay. She had to admit that was a little sketchy. Maybe he was meeting someone here in secret. Or maybe he was a writer who had very specific rituals that he had to adhere to in order for his creative juices to flow. Nick had told Iris all kinds of stories about the interesting authors he tended to meet at festivals and conferences.
Iris looked away from the man as the bartender approached and asked what she’d like to drink. She looked over the cocktail menu and realized that what she actually craved was a simple Shirley Temple. The bartender slid the red, fizzy drink in front of her and she smiled as she took a sip. Shirley Temples reminded her of her family, and tonight her family was together without her. She tried not to feel so bummed about being alone.
A prickle suddenly spread across her skin, and she had the sensation that she was being watched. She glanced to her right, and the bearded guy with the sunglasses was looking at her. He nodded his head, and Iris smiled back, polite but tight.
I do not feel like having small talk with a stranger right now, sir. Please don’t come over here.
The man stood, picking up his notepad and his drink. Iris groaned inwardly as he moved closer to occupy the seat next to her. He sat down, bringing the scent of cinnamon with him.
“This weather is a trip, ay?” he asked in a smooth, deep timbre.
She froze and turned to him fully, taking in the beard, the hat and glasses. The nose ring. His familiar build and voice. Iris squinted.
“ Angel? ” she whispered.
Angel lowered his glasses, revealing his brown eyes. He smiled and lifted his index finger to his lips.
“What in the world are you wearing?” she asked, right before she burst out laughing.
“ Shhh ,” Angel said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is my disguise.”
“Your disguise?”
“I wear it to the movies. The pet store. Central Park. Target. Nobody ever recognizes me. You didn’t.”
They were whispering, even though there was no need to speak in hushed tones. They were the only patrons in the restaurant, and the bartender was at the other end of the bar, preoccupied with his phone.
“You shop at Target?” Iris asked.
“Who doesn’t shop at Target?”
“Good point.” She reached out and lightly touched the thick, fake beard. “Where did you get this? It looks real.”
He smirked. “I ordered it online. What are you drinking?”
“A Shirley Temple.”
He lifted his brows, amused. “I haven’t had one of those in a minute.”
“It’s a comfort drink,” she said. “My parents used to take my sisters and me to Friendly’s after we got our report cards every marking period. I always got a Shirley Temple with the chicken tenders and fries basket. I take Calla there sometimes. She loves it.”
“What’s Friendly’s?”
Iris blinked at him. “You’ve never heard of Friendly’s?”
He shook his head. “Should I have?”
“It’s only one of the finest North American food establishments to ever exist.” She grabbed her phone and searched Friendly’s website, checking their locations list. “Oh, wait. Looks like they’ve never been in Georgia. That’s unfortunate. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve had a Friendly’s mint cookie crunch sundae.”
“Nah, mint ice cream shouldn’t exist.”
Iris paused. She pivoted in her seat and sipped at her drink. “Oh, I see.”
She could feel Angel smiling at her. “You see what?” he asked.
“You’re one of those people who thinks mint and chocolate don’t go together. I bet you hate Peppermint Patties too.”
“The only person I know who actually likes Peppermint Patties is Mrs. Thurman, who played the organ at church, and she’s gotta be almost ninety years old now.”
“Correction: me and Mrs. Thurman are the only people you know who like Peppermint Patties.”
Angel laughed. “Will you take me to Friendly’s, the home of the mint cookie crunch sundae?”
“I don’t know,” Iris said primly, fighting her smile. “You’re judging one of their most popular desserts and you haven’t even tried it yet. I’m not sure if you deserve the chance.”
“I think I do.” The way he looked at her, so intent and delighted, made her stomach flutter.
“What about you?” she asked, clearing her throat and pointing to his glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Club soda. I’m done drinking alcohol for the week. I overdid it last night.”
“I heard that you sang for everyone.”
He grimaced and rubbed a hand over his face. “I saw a video of it this morning. My only saving grace is that my voice sounded okay.” He glanced at her, sidelong. “I don’t get drunk like that a lot. If you were wondering.”
“It’s not my place to judge you even if you did.” She nodded at his notepad, noticing his neat penmanship. “What are you writing? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Song lyrics. Not having much luck, though.”
Is it another song about me?
The thought popped into her head, quick and unwarranted. She had enough sense not to give voice to the question. It was too presumptuous. He might have asked about her on and off over the past three years, but since she’d turned him down to his face at the office last week, she doubted that she’d be the inspiration for any more of his songs. And if he was writing another song about her, that would only complicate things more. She shouldn’t want that.
“Oh, look,” the bartender said. He pointed to the windows. “The rain stopped.”
Iris and Angel turned in their seats. The sky was darker now as evening turned to night. But it was no longer raining. Finally.
Iris spun back around to face the bar. Her Shirley Temple was almost finished. There was hardly anything left of Angel’s club soda. She didn’t want to go back to her room yet. And…she liked talking to him. There was no harm in that, right?
“Do you want to go for a walk?” she heard herself ask.
It wasn’t until the words left her lips that she realized the irony of her question. She’d turned down Angel’s invitation to go for another walk another day, at Violet’s wedding, and he’d promised her that he wouldn’t ask her to go for any walks at twilight. Now that she was the one asking, would he turn her down? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. Her stomach seized, and the seconds felt infinite as she waited for his answer.
“As long as I get to keep on my disguise,” he said, smirking as he stood. He placed a few bills on the counter, paying for their drinks. When Iris started to protest, he waved her away. He slipped his notepad in the back pocket of his jeans and held his hand out to her. She felt herself smile as she accepted his hand and scooted off the barstool.
“What should I call you once we’re out in public?” she asked.
“Hmmm.” He tapped his chin as they walked toward the exit. “Tom Wyatt.”
Her surprised laugh echoed throughout the hotel lobby.