The plane takes off, and I sleep in broken fragments. Every time I close my eyes, I see Julian’s face tight with anger as he looked at me after we found out about the marriage.
By the time we land, I’m numb and empty.
April is waiting on the tarmac.
The second I see her, my composure collapses.
She runs toward me and pulls me into her arms, fierce and tight, like she’s afraid I might disappear again. I cling to her, fingers digging into her jacket.
“Iris,” she whispers. “I was so worried. Never do that again.” She pulls away and frowns at me. “Promise me.”
I laugh through my tears and the snot running from my nose. “I promise to not get caught in a coup again,” I say, wiping my face with my shirtsleeve.
Jay walks up and places a hand on her back. His eyes are sharp and protective as they constantly scan our surroundings. Just like Julian used to do.
“You’re home,” April says, hugging me tight again. “You’re safe.”
I nod. Safe.
The word still doesn’t fit.
She doesn’t ask questions. She just takes my hand and starts talking softly, grounding me with the sound of her voice. Jay flanks my other side, a silent wall.
We climb into the car. April and I are in the back as Jay drives us.
April holds my hand. “Iris,” she whispers, “are you okay?”
I look at my best friend and my chest caves in. A small, broken sound leaves my chest. “No,” I whisper.
She pulls me back into her arms without hesitation, stroking my hair as I cry again. I sob out my pain, my frustration, my anger over leaving my heart in San Isidro.
With an idiot man who doesn’t even know he has it.
An idiot man who’s my husband.
Chapter 12
JULIAN
Fir Hollows smells like wet pavement and pine trees. The last part is fitting because of the name. It’s so small, downtown lasts only for a few blocks. The buildings have hanging flower baskets even though it’s barely spring, and the air is so crisp and clean my chest hurts.
I’ve survived riots, ambushes, and interrogations, but this place scares me more than all of those. I’m terrified because I need Iris to forgive me, but I’m not sure how to make that happen.
Standing across the street from a coffee shop named Brewed Awakening, I watch her through the wide front windows like a coward.
She’s sitting at a small round table near the window, hands wrapped around a mug. Her hair is pulled back in a loose knot that exposes the graceful line of her neck. She’s wearing a soft-looking sweater and jeans. She looks real and safe and so beautiful that my heart skips a beat.
It’s been two months since I let her walk away thinking I didn’t want her.
Since I stood in Lucien’s courtyard, watching the helicopter lift her out of my life, my mouth full of words I didn’t know how to say but now desperately need her to know.
It took me this long to extradite myself from the agency and finally be free to claim the love of my life. To claim my wife.
I take a breath and rehearse the speech I’ve prepared to convince her to give me a second chance.
And then I see a man walk up to Iris.
He slides into the chair across from her, leaning forward like he knows her. Worse, he puts his hand on her arm like he has the right to touch her.
