I hail a cab and ask for them to take me to Times Square. She didn’t tell me the name of the hotel. I don’t even know if she was in Times Square or just nearby. But I can’t just stand around wondering if she might be there.
As we pull off, I take out my phone and do an internet search for Iris Colorado. It’s not the most common name. Maybe it will bring up something. Dread trickles through my body as the results load on the page. There’s an iris flower called the Colorado Ambrosia. Fitting but no help at all.
It’s hopeless.
I stare out of the window, trying to think of a solution—and then, on the street up ahead, I see her. My heart leaps into my throat as I take in her blonde hair up in a neat bun like last night.
“Stop!” I yell to the driver, my blood pulsing in my veins. I can’t believe I’ve found her. “Pull over.”
We come to a stop just ahead of Iris and I leap out of the cab.
My heart drops as we come face-to-face and I fist my hands.
It’s not Iris.
The woman doesn’t even look like her. She’s tall and her hair is dark not blonde. I don’t know how I mistook her for Iris. I’m hallucinating.
The cab door is still open and I slide back onto the back seat. “Sorry. Times Square again, please.”
The driver doesn’t say a word. He just starts driving like he can take whatever crazy New Yorkers throw at him.
As we continue our journey south, I try and think about the details Iris shared with me. Is there any way I could track her down? She talked about her father and brother and their family business. What was it? An auto repair shop? No, that was her first love or the guy who asks her out a few times a year. But maybe that would help. What did she say his name was? I sigh as I realize she didn’t share his name.
When we get to Times Square, I almost don’t get out of the cab. It’s so vast, there’s no way I’m going to find Iris here. Even now, this early on a Sunday, it’s busy. There are people everywhere and the lights from the surrounding billboards are almost blinding even in the sun.
I feel like I know the woman I met last night to her bones. But at the same time, I don’t know anything about her.
I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.
My phone buzzes in my hand and my stomach surges in anticipation. When I glance at the screen, it’s Worth who’s calling. Why was I expecting it to be Iris? I didn’t give her my number either.
I’m an idiot.
I press accept. “Hey.”
“Avril said she saw you thirty minutes ago on Central Park West. Was it you?”
And here I was thinking it was possible to disappear without a trace in New York City. “Yeah, it was me. I was waiting for someone. They didn’t show.”
“A date?” he asks.
I sigh. Was it a date? The most fascinating woman I’ve ever met? The love of my life?
“We just got to Tavern on the Green for brunch,” Worth continues when I don’t respond. “Why don’t you join us? It’s just Sophia, Avril, Poppy, and me.”
“I left,” I say. I don’t tell him I’m in Times Square. How would I possibly explain that?
“So get back here. I want to know who’d stand Jack Alden up for a date.”
I sigh, my chest hollow, my mind racing. I’m no more likely to find Iris wandering about in Times Square as I am walking up and down Main Street in Aspen. Brunch with one of my best friends might help take my mind off of being stood up. Or… who knows what happened. “I’ll be there.”
The journey back to Central Park passes in a blur. I mentally analyze our conversations from last night and try to think of something, anything that might help me if I wanted to find Iris again. But I don’t come up with anything.
When I enter Tavern on the Green, I see Worth immediately, and I can tell by his expression that I’m not covering up my disappointment very well.
“We’re going to need a round of Bloody Marys for the table,” Worth says to the waitress, who’s standing at the table before he’s even said hello.
He knows exactly how I’m feeling with a single glance.
