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As they sipped their tea, Iris filled Blair in on the household rituals, from breakfasts at seven sharp, to journal time twelve hours later, from the shows they watched, to the candle scents they used. She wasn’t at all sure this was the way to handle the situation, but it was the best she could come up with.

She tried to ignore Gabriel’s presence, but he hovered like a dark cloud, judging silently as he followed them both around the house.

“You can sleep in here,” Iris said, leading Blair over to the guest room between her room and the bathroom. A small huff came from behind them. “Is there a problem, Gabriel?” Iris’ tone was weary.

“Perhaps I should sleep in the room next door, and you can take my room.” The corners of Gabriel’s lips lifted, but it was his fake, puppeteer smile.

Gabriel had fought for the room upstairs, which was by far the most spacious, and had designed it to perfectly meet his own scrupulous expectations. All his suggestion meant was that he didn’t trust her.

“That won’t be necessary.” Iris felt like a gambler, carefully choosing her cards and playing them as wisely as she could.

The guest room was already set up, the bed fitted with clean sheets and a comforter. They rarely had guests who stayed overnight, but they kept the bed clean and ready anyway. The only other furniture in the room was a small dresser painted with a mermaid that Iris had picked up off the side of the road the previous spring, and a crystal chandelier in the shape of a pirate ship. She enjoyed whimsical furnishings. They helped keep life interesting.

“We’ll leave you to settle in.”

Blair smiled shyly. “This is great. Thank you.”

“Let us know if you need anything.” Iris closed the door softly, shutting Blair inside, before turning to Gabriel. “I need to go down to the brook. Don’t murder him while I’m gone.” She squeezed past him and headed to the front door, Gabriel at her heels.

“What do you mean, you’re going to the brook?”

“I have to get the rest of his stuff.” She slipped into her tall winter boots, zipping them up to her knees.

“Can’t he do that?” Gabriel asked, his frustration palpable. “Never mind, I’ll go,” he muttered, roughly pulling on his jacket. Before Iris could protest, Gabriel had wrenched open the door and yanked it closed. It wasn’t quite a slam, but the intention was there.

Iris stood frozen for a moment before removing her boots and hurrying upstairs to the music room where she could finally find some peace. She closed the door behind her and slid to the floor, her hand pressed to her lips as tears flooded her eyes.

Seeing those pictures of her and Gabriel from two Christmases ago—the happy, lighthearted expressions on their faces as they unwrapped one another’s gifts, as they sang the stupid festive songs that had once crooned out of her mom’s old record player—those memories haunted her like the ghosts of Christmases past. They reminded her of just how far their relationship had plummeted recently, how great the chasm was that was yawning ever wider between them.

A tentative knock echoed through the music room and Iris jumped up from the floor. She wiped her sweater sleeves across her cheeks, unlocking the door with fumbling fingers.

“Can I get you something?” Iris asked, trying to hold her face steady through her tears as she pulled open the door.

Blair’s pale eyes scanned her face, a worried crease between his brows. “I came to see if you were alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude…”

“No, it’s okay.” Iris gave him a watery smile. “Come in.”

Blair was silent as he took in the room. His gaze ghosted over the white pouf chairs flanking the back window—a portal to the darkening sky—and the tall bookshelf that lined one wall, its top bursting with an array of trinkets that she and Gabriel had collected over the years.

“I like this room," said Blair. He trailed his fingers lightly over the inflexible glass petals of a yellow rose in a vase on the side table.

“Oh yeah?” Iris asked. In truth, she and Gabriel didn’t use the space very much.

The windows rattled as a sudden gust of wind descended upon the house, elm branches scratching against the exterior walls like sharp fingernails. Iris prayed that Gabriel had managed to find Blair’s things and was on his way back. She hated to think of him caught out in the wind, even if it didn’t scare him the way it did her.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Blair asked, as though reading her mind.

“He went to the bridge to grab your stuff.”

Blair frowned, glancing out the window as the shadows of long, gnarled branches waved like skeleton hands in front of the glass. “He didn’t have to do that. I would have gone back for my things in the morning.”

Distracted by the strengthening wind, Iris shrugged. She feared it might have looked more like a shudder, because Blair was looking at her with obvious concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

She bit her lip, unsure how much to confess. Her anxieties were peculiar. They took some getting used to. And she really didn’t want to scare him away.

But his expression was so sincere.

There was something so antithetical about Blair. His features—the almost translucent eyes, the golden brown wavy hair—gave him a youthful, almost angelic appearance. Yet his sharp jaw and the shadows under his eyes made him seem much older than it was possible for him to be. Iris also had the sense that Blair held his true self just out of reach. It made her suspect there was a darkness within him that he was too scared to let the world see.