They encircle me in a hug, cheering for me, telling me they’re proud. Emotion rushes through me as I take it in, knowing I’ve done the hardest thing of all by standing up to my father.
But as the adrenaline wanes, the ache in my chest becomes harder to ignore. There’s only one person I want to tell, and I can’t wait another moment.
39
AIDAN
Iturn Iris’s model of the lighthouse over in my hand, marveling for the hundredth time at her creation. Every time I do, pain grips my heart.
It’s only been three days, but it feels like a lifetime. I’m so used to seeing her every day at the office, and after our weekend together, I couldn’t imagine my apartment without her. I even pictured what it might be like if she moved in. The thought made me giddy with happiness.
Then I fucked everything up.
I set the lighthouse on the coffee table, grimacing at the mess. Multiple discarded coffee cups, pages of yellow legal pad scribbled with notes, old CAD prints. The scene reminds me of Iris’s desk, and a weight settles heavily in my chest.
I shake it off and pick up my laptop again, determined not to wallow. I’ve already drafted the business plan for the new firm, and made a list of potential clients to reach out to. Already started designing a website, though I’m stuck on the name. I want Iris’s name in the title, butPrescottis the name of John’s firm, something I think we’d both want to avoid. Of course,that’s assuming she even wants to do this with me. That she’ll ever talk to me again.
I toss my laptop onto the sofa, rising to drag an impatient hand through my hair. Should I call her? Stop by? I want to apologize again—apologize athousandtimes—but she asked for space. I need to respect that.
I pace restlessly, which isn’t easy with two drafting tables, a desk, and an extra sofa jammed into my living room. My foot catches on the corner of the coffee table, sending pain shooting up my leg, and a string of curses escapes me as I collapse onto the sofa, dropping my head into my hands.
Who am I kidding? I haven’t slept for days. I’m exhausted and miserable. I want to be strong, want to be the man Iris needs, but I’m not sure if I can do this without her. I don’twantto do this without her. I’ve spent so long focusing on the wrong things, and for what? Work, success, all the things I thought I needed—they don’t matter.Irisis what matters. It’s so clear to me now.
She’s all I need.
A knock comes at the door, tentative and quiet, and for a second I think I’ve imagined it. When it comes again, louder, I push to my feet with a frown. It’s probably Soph, checking in. She’s been fussing over me a lot the past couple days.
But when I tug the door open, Iris stands there. She’s in that indigo dress, caramel hair tumbling in waves over her shoulders, hope shining in those cornflower-blue eyes.
And my heart stops.
“Hi,” she murmurs, biting her lip. “Can I… come in?”
I step aside, pulse spiraling. Somehow, she’s become more beautiful in the time we’ve been apart.
Somehow, I love her even more.
As I close the door, her gaze sweeps around my living room, taking in the discarded coffee cups, the jumble of furniture, thestack of takeout containers piled on the counter. I glance in the entryway mirror, raking a hand through my hair to try to tidy myself up, but it’s no use. I haven’t showered since yesterday, eyes shadowed by dark circles, those same stained sweats still hanging off my hips. I’m a mess.
She glances back at me, a knot of concern appearing between her brows. Like she’s worried. About me.
“Aidan,” she whispers, and something in my chest breaks.
I fall to my knees in front of her, wrapping my arms around her waist, burying my face in her dress. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I was stupid and wrong. It wasn’t my place to say anything, and to say it to John, fuck, I’m—”
“Hey,” she murmurs, touching my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Her fingers stroke my hair, soft and tender, moving to my beard. When I glance up, she wipes a thumb over my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” she says softly. “You were protecting me. You’realwaysprotecting me.”
I stare at her in disbelief. She’s really okay?
She holds out her hand, trying to help me to my feet. I take it, straightening, and gaze down at her, chest tight with uncertainty.
“I’m sorry I ran off like that,” she says, and I shake my head.
“No, I’m sorry you overheard what you did. I wanted to speak to you about it, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
