Iris appears, dressed in leggings and a loose sweater hanging off one shoulder, fluffy pink socks on her feet. She looks different than she does at work, softer without the heels, her makeup. I’m reminded of the woman I met at the bar, and something loosens in my chest. Something I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Hi,” she says, a little less irritated than before. “So, why are you here?”
“I… I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair, shifting my weight. I have no rational reason for showing up at her apartment unannounced, only that I’ve felt a nagging sense of unease since she walked out this morning. The same feeling I had after our moment together in the restroom. “Debbie told me you’d taken a personal day.”
“Shit,” she mutters, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I should have CC’d you, sorry.” She brings her gaze to mine, squaring her shoulders. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your coffee. I’ll have it on your desk first thing tomorrow.”
I give her an incredulous look. That’s why she thinks I’m here?
“I don’t care about the coffee, Iris.”
Her brow dips, as if in confusion. “Then why…”
I shake my head, motioning behind her. “Can we not do this in your hallway?”
She hesitates, regarding me warily, then steps aside for me to enter, and the moment I cross the threshold, I realize why.
Her apartment is tiny.
Actually, I’m not sureapartmentis even the right word. It’s more like a single dorm room.
Iris watches with wry amusement as I take in the space that’s little more than a kitchenette, with a chair and dresser by a window, and a ladder which I can only assume leads to her bed.
I don’t know what I pictured when I imagined Iris’s apartment, but it wasn’t this. I’d assumed John had set her up somewhere, that he’d covered her rent while she was—how did he put it?—in a bit of a bind. No wonder she was so enthusiastic about the Bushwick studios. They’re positively palatial compared to this. How can John let her live here?
I can’t stop myself from reaching for the door beside me, wanting to peek into the bathroom, but Iris cries out, “Don’t open that!” and I quickly withdraw my hand.
“Sorry,” I mumble, surprised by her outburst. “Just wanted to see if the bathroom was as small as the rest of it.”
She scrunches her nose. “That’s not the bathroom.”
I glance around the room again, not seeing another door, when it hits me. Her bathroom isoutsidethe apartment? That explains why she was out there in a towel. I’m surprised to find relief trickle through me at that explanation.
I look back at the door beside me, and she adds, “It’s a closet.”
My brows lift. “Have you got a body in there?”
She smirks. “No. Just…” Her cheeks color. “It’s a mess.”
I give a slow nod, absorbing this. That makes sense, because the only thing more shocking than the size of this place is how tidy it is. Given the state of Iris’s desk, I’d expected her apartment to be equally chaotic, but it’s not. It’s almost like an entirely different person lives here.
I blow out a breath, glancing back at her. “What’s the square footage of this place?”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust you to ask that.”
“Seriously, Iris.” I’m not being critical. More than anything, I’m concerned. “Does John know about this? It can’t be legal.”
She looks at her hands, as if she’s embarrassed. “It’s not legal, not as an apartment. Technically, it’s part of a suite, since the bathroom’s shared. They get around the minimum-square-footage law that way.” Then she lifts her chin, meeting my gaze head-on. “But I don’t care. What I care is that I can afford it. That it’smine.” She holds my gaze for a long moment, arms folded, then exhales, letting her shoulders drop. “Do you want a drink, or something?”
I glance at her kitchenette beside me, wondering if she even has a fridge, and spot a small dorm fridge under the counter.
“Sure.”
She wavers for a moment, then says, “I can make coffee, but I only have instant. I ran out of filters.”
“That’s fine.”
She fills the small electric kettle, switching it on. I stand awkwardly in her room, hands in the pockets of my slacks as I wait for it to boil. Part of me knows I should leave, but another part is fascinated by this look into her world outside the office, and even though I shouldn’t, I want to see more.
