“Great. Thanks.”
Arwen left Zara there to work, still wondering what was going on with her, and a couple of hours later, she put her bike in Zara’s trunk, using a bungee cord to keep the trunk down. They’d done this a few times, but not often. Zara was always prepared, though, and usually offered her a ride if it was raining or in winter, especially if Arwen had taken the subway or ridden her bike in on a day where no snow had been anticipated. The flowers she had kept in her lap because she didn’t want to risk them tipping over in the back seat.
“Here you go,” Zara said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come up? You don’t have to help me pick out an outfit. We can just talk. I have to shower first, but after that, we can talk while I get ready.”
“What would we talk about, Arwen?”
“Whatever’s going on with you,” she suggested.
“I’m fine. I don’t know how many times I can tell you that before it’s clear that Iamfine.”
“Your eyes are bloodshot. They were like that the other night, too.”
“Because I haven’t been sleeping well. That’s all. Now, I’m double-parked, so you need to get out, or I’ll get a damn ticket.”
“Fine,” Arwen replied. “I’ll set the flowers down on the sidewalk and hope no one steals them while I get my bike out of the trunk.”
“Great,” Zara said sarcastically.
Arwen hadn’t ever seen this side of Zara before, and if she didn’t have to get out of the car or risk her further anger, she would’ve called her on it, but that would have to wait for another day. She got out, resisting the urge to slam the door, and set the bouquet on the sidewalk by the door to her building. Then, she retrieved her bike from the trunk and couldn’t resist slamming the trunk lid at least.
Seconds later, Zara rejoined traffic, and Arwen watched her car turn at the next light, deciding she would worry about her later. Right now, she needed to get both her bike and the flowers upstairs, knowing if she left either, they’d likely get stolen in the minute it took her to get back downstairs. She pulled open the door, hefted the bouquet in one hand, and used her other to steer the bicycle inside. She normally just took the stairs, but not with her bike, so she was grateful she didn’t live in a walk-up. When she got to her floor, she nearly dropped the flowers but kept them close to her chest, only splashing a little water over herself instead.
“The things I do for the environment,” she said to herself. “Should’ve just driven to work today.”
She unlocked her door, put her bike in its usual spot by the window in the living room, and set the flowers on the kitchen table, moving them to the middle to take them in more fully. She got more water for them to replace what had been spilled and headed to her bedroom so she could start getting ready. Right before she was about to get into the shower, her phone pinged. Expecting it to be Zara with an apology, she was surprised to see that it was from Iro.
“No, don’t be canceling,” she said and opened the message app.
Iro No Last Name: I can’t wait to see you.
Arwen sat on the side of her bed and simply sighed.
CHAPTER 8
Iro
Iro sat in the back seat of the SUV and held a red rose in her hands, staring down at it, knowing the meaning of this flower well. She’d once given these flowers to another woman, and she had been alive when she’d done it. She’d never given Cassia red roses. Not really a flowers kind of woman, Cassia preferred blood and sex as gifts, and, at times, Iro had happily obliged, but as she sat staring at this red rose, she thought of her first love and what giving this flower to another woman after all these years meant.
There had still been the smell of smoke in the air when Iro had been born, her mother had told her. The Great Fire had only just been vanquished when Iro had arrived to a house of already four children, all girls. Her father had hoped for a son, of course, and yet again, his wife had delivered to him a girl. By the time Iro was thirty years old, her mother was long gone, dying before Iro had turned sixteen. Trying to give her father a sixth child, and a boy at that, had been the reason her mother had been lost to the five children she’d already had. All of Iro’s older sisters were already married, and three of them had children of their own. One of them had two sons, so her father, who had been so unkind to his daughters, finally had a male heir to take over his blacksmith shop. That meant he carednot for his youngest child, so Iro came and went mostly as she pleased.
“You can’t keep bringing me flowers,” Mary said. “He’ll find them and wonder what man is trying to steal his wife.”
Iro smirked and replied, “Then, he’ll never find me.” She climbed on top of Mary, tossing the red rose aside. “I’ve missed you. You’ve been busy.”
“We have responsibilities, Iro. My husband is important.”
“Can we not talk about your husband?” she asked.
“You’re naked in his bed, my love.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Iro said and slipped off her, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling.
“Please, don’t act this way. He’ll be back tomorrow night. Your father doesn’t know you’re here. Let’s just enjoy our time together.”
Mary moved on top of Iro and straddled her hips.
