It had begun.
“You get two hours,” Finn offered. He fell into step with Henry as he answered the call from one of the interns.
Finn could hear her tight, frantic tone, likely overwhelmed at having to hold down the fort alone.
“We’re on our way. Don’t answer until I get there and give you our comment.”
They spent the rest of the walk trying to come up with something to leak to the news stations and gossip accounts.
“You know what happens next, right?” Henry asked after they had spent a few hours putting out the fires.
“A joint TV interview.”
“I’ll see what I can get—daytime or late-night. Daytime is traditional. Late-night will pin you as the fun, relatable new couple on the block. I’m going to poke around and see who might be interested.”
“Okay.”
“You need to find your fiancée and inform her that she is going to be on round-the-clock media training from now until we put this fire out. And tell her not to speak to anyone without you again.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first twenty times,” Finn grumbled, raking a hand down his face.
It was supposed to be a nice day.
A turning point.
A simple win.
Maybe a moment Iris would look back on and think:Okay, this wasn’t so bad.
Instead, it was unraveling by the minute.
Now, he had to ruin what was left of it by lecturing Iris about talking to the media.
“Get that look off your face before you hit the street.The last thing we need right now is someone snapping a picture of you walking alone, looking miserable. After being called a barnacle.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Henry,” Finn said, turning and walking away.
He did force his lips to tilt up before he started walking, but it took a lot more effort than usual. His face hurt by the time he got back to his apartment.
“Monty!” he snapped when he opened the door to find the bird standing on the arm of the couch, looming over Checkers as he slept, his giant beak open wide.
The pelican jerked, just barely managing to stop himself from face-planting on the cat.
“What?” the flustered bird asked, fluffing his white feathers. “I wasyawning.Big yawn. Stretching my jaw hinge. Totally normal.” At Finn’s raised brows, he added, “This is why no one trusts birds anymore.” He dramatically waved out a wing. “One open beak and suddenly I’m a menace.”
“You can’t eat the cat, Monty,” Finn reminded the bird with what little patience he had left after a long day.
“I wasn’t going toeatit. I was going to cradle it. Gently. In my beak. Like a cozy little emotional support snack—I mean friend!”
Checkers had woken up and was eyeing the pelican with totally earned suspicion.
“Have you seen Iris?”
“You mean your resplendent, glittering, camera-ready-on-a-random-afternoon fiancée? She mumbled something about saltwater therapy. Wait,” he called as Finn went to head back out to check the pool.
“What?” Finn asked, hearing a strange whooshing sound coming from the shell sitting on the coffee table. Was thatsome kind of spelled gift, something that reminded her of home? Spelled conch shells, trips down to the saltwater pool. She was crying out for connections to her roots, to the salt water that was in her veins. Their schedules were jam-packed with the election creeping closer, but he had to find some time for her to reconnect with the ocean, to get to be a mermaid, not just his future wife.
“Can you leave that pretty gold card of yours? I’m feeling peckish.”
