Iris scraped a hand over her tangled hair. “I don’t even know what that means. What are youtryingto prove, Stevie? We’re fake dating and we were fucking—which we’re clearly not doing at all anymore—and now Claire’s thirteen-year-old seems to know something I don’t, so tell me what you want, Stevie. What is all this for? What the hell do you—”
“I wantyou.”
She said it so quietly, Iris almost didn’t hear her. Stevie’s eyeswere fixed on Iris, the moon glinting off that light amber color, turning it into bronze.
“What?” Iris asked, her own voice a whisper.
“I want you,” Stevie said again.
Her eyes filled, and Iris could tell she was shaking, but still, she didn’t look away from Iris. Didn’t even blink.
“I know you may not believe me,” Stevie said. “But the night we slept together—actually, before, when I went home with Jenna—I realized I didn’t want some stranger. I never really did, I just told myself what I thought I needed so I could be... I don’t even know. An adult? A person who controlled her own sex life? But I didn’t want just anyone. And I sure as hell don’t want to have sex with just anyone. I wantyou. Everything changed that night we went to Stella’s. It was like waking up from the longest sleep of my life. But then the next morning, you...”
She paused, took a deep breath. Iris couldn’t even get a sip of air, her entire body locked up and on alert.
“You asked me to leave,” Stevie went on. “And I didn’t know what to do. I ended up at River Wild Books and I was a mess. Ruby was there. So was Claire, but I didn’t know it was her store. She found me and just... gave me some tea. That’s all.”
“That’s all?”
Stevie sighed. “I might have confessed a few feelings to Claire. I guess Ruby overheard.”
Iris’s own eyes stung, a pinch in her heart she couldn’t parse as she processed this information. “And this... these dates. This was all for me?”
Stevie shrugged. “Ruby was right. I was wooing you.”
“Wooing me.”
Stevie closed her eyes, inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, she took a step closer to Iris. “I know you’ve had some shitty people say they love you. I know you don’t think you’re built fordating and relationships. And if you truly don’t want that in your life, fine. I won’t argue with you. But I wanted you to be sure. I wanted to show you.”
Tears spilled down Iris’s cheeks. “Show me what?”
Stevie took another step closer. Iris didn’t move back. She couldn’t. There were only inches between them now and it felt like too much.
“Show me what, Stevie?” she asked again.
Stevie rested her hands on Iris’s waist, tentatively, as though waiting for Iris to stop her. She didn’t. Instead, she gripped Stevie’s forearms, her breathing loud and heavy. She felt herself fading, disappearing, the strong, secure, confident, no-bullshit Iris Kelly vanishing right before her eyes. In her place was a woman whose heart felt tender and raw. A woman who was tired, so fucking tired of fighting the way Stevie Scott made her feel.
Because Iris could see it now—these dates, every move Stevie had made since they embarked on this whole ridiculous deal together, it had all been chipping away at Iris’s icy heart, bit by bit, showing her that she... that Stevie... that Iris...
“Show me what?” she asked one more time. “Stevie.”
Stevie pressed her forehead to Iris’s. “That you’re worth loving.”
It was so simple. Just four words, barely whispered, but they felt like a bomb landing right on its target. Iris exploded—her heart, her mind, her skin. She was just a shell of the person she was even seconds ago, and she didn’t know how to put herself back together, how to do anything but simply dive into the explosion, join it, become one with all the shrapnel.
“Well, it fucking worked,” she said, her voice shaking as she slid her hands into Stevie’s hair and pulled her in for a kiss. And this time, Stevie didn’t settle for a single press of their mouths. She opened her mouth to Iris’s, wrapping her arms around Iris’s waist, hands trailing up her back and into Iris’s hair to her shoulders, thencurling around her neck to cup her face, thumbs swiping at her cheeks.
Stevie held her like that, tongue exploring Iris’s, her mouth sliding to Iris’s ear, her neck, all the while holding her face like Iris was some kind of treasure Stevie had been searching for and had finally, finally found.
Iris breathed her in, all summer nights and grass, slid her hands under her navy T-shirt, fingertips gliding over her soft skin. God, she wanted this woman. Wanted all of her, and she didn’t know what that meant, or how she’d face the fear that she knew was still lying dormant in her heart.
All she knew was that she couldn’t say no.
She didn’t want to.
For the first time in over a year, maybe even since Grant or before—maybe for the first time in her life—she wanted to say yes, to everything, every word and every question and every quiet look.
Yes, yes, yes.
