“Everything okay?”
“Everything is…” I try to say the word “fine” again, but this time I choke out a sob instead.
“Oh, honey.” Eric sets the cream down and turns to me, his brow knitting. “What’s going on?”
I force myself to focus on the bubbles, so I don’t completely lose it, but of all the people I can be my true self around, Eric is probably number one. I don’t need to hide from him.
With a deep breath, I fill him in on everything. Meeting Aidan at Marco’s. Becoming his assistant. Me trying to impress him with my sketches. Dad humiliating me. Eric listens patiently, perched on the closed lid of the toilet seat, and by the time I’ve shared it all, I’m surprised to find I feel better. A lot better.
“What about the model?” Eric asks. He popped in during the weekend to borrow my air fryer and spotted me working on it. Said it looked like the Taj Mahal compared to our places, and he’d happily move in.
I try to recall Aidan’s words. What did he say?It’s not half bad. It felt like a reluctant compliment until he noticed I’d moved his drafting table. I cringe as I remember the way it crashed to the floor, the broken piece of wood in his hand, my model forgotten.
Eric’s phone dings, and he pulls it from his pocket. “Shit, my ride will be here in five. I’m so sorry.” He glances up. “I could skip rehearsal…”
I wave a hand. “Don’t be silly. Get ready.”
He eyes me for a moment longer, then quickly turns to the mirror, adding product to his hair. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says again, and I shake my head.
“No, I’m feeling better. Thanks.”
“Of course.” He takes one last look at himself, then comes to give me a peck on the head. “We’ll do pizza soon, okay?”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Definitely. And you can tell me all about how the new play is going.”
“Sounds good.” He grins, then slips out the door.
A long sigh gusts out of me, and I reach for my phone. Now that I’m thinking clearly again, I know what I need to do. I needto fix what I’ve broken and get back to my actual job as Aidan’s assistant.
It takes me a few minutes to find an antique drafting table similar to Aidan’s on eBay, and I order it, trying to ignore the eye-watering $800 price tag. That’s what credit cards are for, right? Hopefully, it will be enough to smooth things between us. For him to forget I was ever in his office, attempting to do his job.
Satisfied with this, I peel off the mask and drain the tub, checking my skin in the mirror above the sink. The mask has reduced the puffiness in my face, and I apply a little moisturizer, a spritz of my favorite perfume, and let my hair down. Then I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and open the door, planning to make some ramen and settle in with Captain Holt and the gang.
But when I step out into the hall, I run straight into someone. Someone I’d never in a million years expect to find in my dingy hallway.
Aidan Brooks.
13
AIDAN
“Shit.” Iris steps back from me with wide, surprised eyes. “What are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to answer when I notice what she’s wearing.
Or rather, not wearing.
She’s wrapped in a towel, creamy skin glistening with droplets of water, hair spilling across her shoulders. Her face is bare, cheeks flushed and dewy, blue eyes searing into mine. I can feel the heat emanating from her in the small space, my breath catching as I inhale her sweet orange blossom scent. For a moment I forget everything that’s happened between us at work, consumed by the need to press my lips to hers, to back her up against the wall and touch every inch of her soft, moist skin.
I wrench my gaze away, feeling like a creep. She’s gorgeous, but I seem to keep forgetting she’s twenty-six. John’s daughter.
And, from the frown on her face, clearly not in the mood to see me.
She sighs, motioning to the door behind me. “Just… give me a minute, okay?”
I nod mutely, afraid to speak. The last thing I expected when I located her address on file and drove to Queens was to find her practically naked, looking up at me from under those lashes. I wonder briefly what she’s doing in the hallway undressed, then push the thought away. I’m not sure I want to know.
The door closes behind her, and I breathe out in relief. I drag a hand down my face, wondering if I should go. She clearly doesn’t want me here, and that’s understandable after I snapped at her about the drafting table. I glance along the hall, contemplating leaving, when the door swings open again.
