“So we can’t be individuals.”
“Sure we can. For example, I practice archery, go to plays, play golf—”
But did he enjoy any of those things?
“Look, I can see you’re getting a little … tense.” She wasn’t sure what word he’d been going to say before he settled on that one. But even if it was unflattering, she would have preferred something real. “Try not to let your emotions lead.”
Try not to let her emotions lead? She was a mermaid. Everyone knew that mermaids were known for accepting and embracing their emotions.
And he was, what, calling an important part of her identity a flaw?
“Politics are all about calm and control. If we give in to feelings, we lose credibility.”
Iris could feel her pulse quickening with each word he was saying.
“And the last thing we need is an emotional outburst in front of the cameras.”
She was out of her seat before she could even process what she was doing.
Her giant drink was in her hands one moment.
The next, it was poured over his head.
As the salt water ran down his face, there was no anger in his expression. Not even surprise. Just a quiet kind of resignation. Like he’d expected the worst and was relieved it was only seawater.
For a man who seemed so obsessed with perception, it was almost unsettling how little he cared about how he looked in that moment.
He simply blinked the salt from his lashes, the tiniest sigh escaping as if he’d just surrendered to her fury.
It made her stomach twist.
He was still sputtering on the salt water as she turned and walked away.
How wasthatfor an emotional outburst?
“Shoo, you dumb bird!” she heard from somewhere behind her.
By the time Iris burst out of the restaurant, Monty was flitting over to her, his feathers literally—and figuratively—ruffled.
“You dump a drink on a politician’s head, andI’mthe one who’s banned from the restaurant?”
“Thenerveof that man!” Iris stomped forward, finding her gait was a lot steadier when she was angry. “He was basically calling my entire persona political suicide, but he still expects me to want to marry him?”
“Back in my day, we didn’t need to arrange marriages,” Monty said. “We just fought over sardines. Like adults.”
“Not a single word that came out of his mouth seemed like a unique thought that he’d had. It was all off some script or something. The man is absolutely devoid of character.”
“He looks like he wears boat shoes unironically,” Monty declared.
“Dammit,” Iris said, stopping mid-stride, head tipped up to the sky. “My mother is going to be livid. I’m going to be cleaning barnacles off sea turtles for the next thirty years.”
“Oh, what do you have to be sad about? I’m the one who’s losing his chance at fame and fortune.”
“Maybe this won’t get back to my mother.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Didn’t you see that pack of gulls hanging about? They’re your mother’s personal spies. She’s probably getting an earful as we speak. I should have eaten them instead of those crab cakes; they’re repeating on me,” he said, tapping his chest.
“Don’t even try to be comforting,” Iris grumbled.
