“Really.”
She bounces on her toes, eyes sparkling. “Where are we going?”
I shake my head, reaching for my keys and unlocking my Mercedes with a bleep. “I have somewhere in mind.”
I haven’t been backto Marco’s since I met Iris, and it’s exactly as I remember it. Same dark wood paneling on the walls, same worn leather barstools, same low lighting.
And yet, everything feels different.
Last time we were here, I met a woman who was somehow both sad and sweet. Lost, but still had it in her to make me laugh. A woman I instinctively wanted to care for, even though I didn’t know her.
And now… now she’s the love of my life. I suspect I already knew then how important she’d become to me. I just didn’t want to admit it.
Iris laughs as we settle into a booth, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I can’t believe you chose Marco’s.”
I reach for the menu with a mischievous smile. I probably should’ve taken her somewhere fancier. That’s what she deserves. But we’re still in our work clothes, and this felt right. Besides, there’s plenty of time for fancy meals out. I’m not planning on leaving her side anytime soon.
“I hear they make a good gin and tonic,” I say, motioning to a waitress.
Iris’s hand slides over my thigh under the table, warm and soft, drifting higher than it should. “Should we go to the restroom after this?” she purrs, and my cock twitches in response.
“No,” I murmur, hearing the roughness in my voice. “After this, you’re coming back to my place.” I’ve waited long enough to bring Iris home. Too long. I need her in my bed. Need her beside me when I wake tomorrow. Hell, maybe I can convince her to stay for the weekend.
And maybe I can find a way to talk to her about ADHD.
But she doesn’t respond, and I pause. “I mean, if you want to…”
“Yes.” She nods vigorously, shuffling closer in the booth. “I want that so much.”
At her enthusiastic response, I decide to push my luck. “Do you want to… spend the weekend?” I ask cautiously. “We don’t have work for once. We could go for breakfast, maybe check out a museum. I could cook you dinner tomorrow…”
Her eyes glisten. “Aidan…” she whispers. “I…” There it is again, that look in her eye. The one she had behind the waterfall last night. “I… I’d love that,” she finishes at last, and I exhale. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.
The waitress appears at our table, shattering the moment, and we order. We eat, talking about the studios, the lighthouse, the team-building outing last night. Iris is animated, radiant, and all I can think is how much I want to build something new with her. Romantically, yes, but also with our work. Something that blends our skills, that lets her really shine.
And as we drive to her apartment to grab her an overnight bag for the weekend before heading back to my place, I know I need to talk to her about ADHD. Not because it will change anything—not for me, at least—but because I want her to get the support she needs for this next adventure between us. I want her toknowshe can do this.
Nerves flicker through me as I let her into my Carroll Gardens apartment. The place is immaculate, as usual, and Iris sweeps her gaze around with a smile, taking in the pre-war charm: high ceilings, plaster moldings, and big sash windows.
“Oh,” she murmurs softly. “This is lovely.”
I smile as I set her bag down on the sofa, not wanting to rush her into the bedroom, as much as I want to get her into bed. I’ve never brought a woman here before, always preferring to hookup away from home, and only now do I realize why. I was waiting for the right woman.
For Iris.
As if reading my mind, she bites her bottom lip, glancing over my shoulder. “Can I… see the bedroom?”
I chuckle, reaching for her bag again. “You sure can, Cupcake.”
I open the door, motioning for her to go first. My heart presses against my ribs as I look at her in there. It’s nothing special; navy-blue walls, a charcoal-colored comforter over a dark wooden bed frame, a few of my father’s framed blueprints on the walls.
But having Iris here meanseverythingto me.
I set her bag down and turn on the bedside lamp, illuminating the space with a soft glow. It reminds me of our motel room in Wetherly Cove. The night that forever changed my life. I never thought I’d be grateful for a blizzard, but getting stuck in that tiny bed with Iris was the best thing to ever happen to me.
“Come here,” I say thickly, reaching for her. She settles into my arms, warm and soft and perfect. I want to undress her slowly, to worship every inch of her smooth skin, to make love to her for hours, but hesitation tugs at me.
She senses it, drawing back to meet my gaze. “What is it?” she asks quietly.
