Even though she still had no idea how tomorrow’s dinner would go, her fish at least provided enough conversation for tonight’s.
Iris kept dinner simple, since cooking anything too elaborate would have meant dividing her concentration: if this conversation stalled out, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it back. It was surprisingly easy to chat with him, but she couldn’t let that lull her into a false sense of security. But steak, baked potatoes, and a salad were easy enough, and Keith praised them so vociferously that Iris decided he really did think dinner was delicious.
She might not have been gorgeous—no matter what he said—but shedidknow how to cook.
They wound their way around from pet fish to seafood, which she was pretty sure the fish thought was a morbid turn for the conversation to take.
“I do like it,” Iris said guiltily, “but I try not to eat it in front of them. It just feels weird.”
“If it helps, a lot of them would probably gulp down some smaller fish if they got the chance.”
“True.”
“You shouldn’t let yourself be judged by a bunch of cannibals.”
Iris laughed. “I’ll try to resist their scorn.”
With the two of them working together at the sink, it didn’t take long to wash and dry the dishes. Iris was surprised by how late it had gotten: already ten o’clock. They’d spent more time talking than she’d realized.
That was a good sign, right? Admittedly, most of it hadn’t involved anything close to serious—more like the story of how she’d once eaten salmon with dill sauce standing up in the kitchen so Bozo and his friends couldn’t see her—but they’d still ... gotten lost in each other. She’d had fun. She’d liked hearing more about his job and his friends.
Now she felt something else: a fizz of anticipation. She had thought before that this one-week deal made them, improbably enough, something close to boyfriend and girlfriend, and that meant that this was like the end of a date.
This is what it feels like. I never thought I’d know that.
She dried her hands, trying to ground herself by focusing on her pruny fingertips and the green smell of the dish soap. She was not on a date, she was just on something date-ish. He wasn’t going to walk her to her door before they shared a tender good night kiss. There was nowhere to walk, and they’d already decided—at her insistence—to wait before they did any more kissing.
The worst decision I ever made, Iris thought, looking at Keith’s mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she said, drying her hands. “But I should probably turn in soon. I work at the Council House, so I’m used to keeping early hours. Lady Marianne gave me the week off for ...us, but I don’t think my body clock knows that yet.”
Keith nodded. “I remember how the Council is. Things start at the crack of dawn.”
Right, he probably wouldn’t have had any lazy weekend mornings as a kid. Iris’s parents had been traditional, but she and Seraphina had still gotten the occasional treat.
For Keith’s sake, she hoped that his new life sometimes let him sleep in. He deserved that.
“What do you do there, by the way?” Keith said.
Huh, she’d assumed Marianne would have put that in her file.
“I wish I had a more interesting answer, but the truth is: not much. I stuff envelopes, make appointments, answer the phone, alphabetize files. It’s not exactly strenuous.”
It didn’t exactly give her a feeling of satisfaction, either. It was mostly just busywork to keep her out of trouble.
“I used to—” She swore a blue streak at herself in the privacy of her own head. She hadn’t meant to let that escape.
She couldn’t start telling him about her old life right before bed. That was going to be a long, long conversation, and she’d need a clear head for it. And keeping her head clear was already hard enough when he was around. He fogged her up.
“You used to what?”
He looked interested and curious, and it didn’t seem like there was any particular answer he was dreading or hoping for. His willingness to hear whatever she had to say—his pleasure at talking to her and getting to know her just for her own sake—was frankly a little terrifying.
She could say anything ... and then she might find out that his seemingly limitless goodness and patience had limits after all.
“That’s a story for tomorrow, if that’s okay,” Iris said. And anticipating it would have her tossing and turning all night. “Anyway, like I said, right now I don’t do all that much.”
“I’m sure the Council appreciates you.”
