“That won’t matter. That’s the spin they will put on it. Finn went to a siren poetry reading once, and the siren in question hit a painful note that made him wince. What followed was an entire week of articles claiming Finn was not only speciesist to sirens but hated women’s stories and women in general.”
“That’s absurd.”
“That is the media,” Henry told her as he handed her the garment bag with her outfit for the event.
Iris suddenly felt a little apologetic about all the times she’d thought the two men were overly concerned about what the media might print.
“When in doubt, let Finn lead with the answers.”
“Just smile and look pretty,” Iris drawled.
“Exactly,” Henry agreed, missing the sarcasm. “Okay. I have to go. I gave you flats,” he said, starting to lower the shoebox onto the counter.
“No! Not there,” she said, grabbing it out of his hands. “Finn said it’s bad luck.”
Henry’s raised brows had a lot to say. All of which she ignored as she took her outfit and made her way to the bathroom to get dressed.
Media nonsense aside, she was really excited about the event. She’d asked Finn no fewer than a hundred questions about the parade, learning that it started out as a lunar alignment ritual, now turned annual fae flaunt-fest. He said it was not as flashy as the banshee lantern walk, but ten times louder.
She’d also inquired about what to expect and what might—or might not—be considered appropriate from a bystander.
It was the most she’d ever spoken to Finn since moving in with him. She tried really hard not to be charmed by his easy smiles. Or, you know, turned on by the smooth sound of his voice.
“Wait … that’s what you’re wearing?” Iris asked when Finn walked out of the bedroom, changed out of his usual blue suit. In its place, he had on knee-length tailored tan shorts, a lightweight brown cable polo shirt, and suede loafers.
It was casual yet screamed sophistication.
“It’s important for me to look put together at official events. But this isn’t supposed to look like an official event. We’re just supposed to be having a fun day out.”
Iris held in her sigh.
Nothing in Finn’s mind was everjustone thing. It always called back to the campaign and his image.
“Besides, I’ve worked hard on these calves. I’m tired of hiding them.”
That dragged a little laugh out of Iris. At the words, sure, but mostly at how genuine he sounded.
“I don’t know what the original calves looked like, but these look very mayoral. What?” she asked when he grimaced.
“The current mayor has chicken legs,” he said. “Don’t jinx me.”
“Can I hope my outfit is that casual?” she asked.
“Only one way to know,” he said, waving toward the bathroom.
It was his subtle way of trying to hurry her along, knowing she was always late and that he liked to be on time.
Iris went into the bathroom, combing her hair for a few moments longer than it truly required before opening up the garment bag.
It was too much to hope that Henry would letherwear a T-shirt and shorts. But she was pleased by the simple cream-colored A-line midi dress with a square neckline and wide straps. The back was low enough that it wouldn’t allow her to wear a bra.
Would she have preferred a more colorful outfit? Absolutely. But she was pleased with the soft fabric and the flowing skirt.
And the shoes?
Simple black ballet flats.
She knew when she slipped into her clothes and looked in the mirror that her outfit had been chosen explicitly to go along with Finn’s outfit. Did that make her feel a bit like the accessory she’d once been called? Yeah. But not even that could ruin her excitement about the event.
