Page 52
She listened for a beat. “I love this song.”
Blair smiled, leaning his head back against the cool window. For a while, they sat together and enjoyed the music, while moonlight gleamed against the crystals on the pirate ship chandelier above his bed. He’d thought her taste in decor a bit unusual when he had first moved in, but Blair had grown to love the whimsical furnishings placed like treasures about the house.
He closed his eyes as he fell into the music, letting peace wash over him as he sat with his head bent slightly toward Iris’. When the song ended, he tapped pause before another one could begin and removed his earbud.
“You know,” Iris said, her voice like a quiet melody of its own as it broke through the silence. “You’ve got a little bit of a Vincent vibe yourself.”
Blair wasn’t sure whether to be touched or disturbed by that. The song they’d just listened to was about Vincent Van Gogh, who—though supremely talented—was widely considered to be quite mad.
“I suppose I do ‘suffer for my sanity,’” he said despondently.
Iris nudged his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I hope I won’t meet his same fate.”
“You won’t,” she promised.
Blair nodded, his mood plunging. “I’m sorry I overreacted tonight. It’s just…I didn’t like how rough that man was with you. I wasn’t able to protect myself in the past, and I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Iris reached for his hand. “It’s okay.” She looked like she might be about to ask a clarifying question, so Blair rushed on.
“I keep expecting you to ask me to leave,” he admitted softly, toying with a thread at the edge of the cushion. He looked up, his eyes seeking hers. He hated to see the pity in them.
“I would never ask you to leave.”
“Why not? I’m like…like a leech, sucking the life out of you.”
Iris’ lips twitched. For a moment Blair worried she was about to cry. Then she burst into laughter, her hand covering her mouth as her body shook with the sheer force of it.
“What’s so funny?” But Blair found himself mirroring her expression. Her smile was infectious.
Tears shone in Iris’ eyes, and she wiped them away, her laughter subsiding. “Well, back in your day, doctors believed that leeches could be used as a cure, right? So, in that case, maybe you are a leech.” Her tone was light-hearted, but there was a weight beneath her words.
“A cure for what?” Blair asked doubtfully.
Iris considered this, her expression subdued now. “Darkness.”
Blair frowned. “I am darkness,” he whispered.
The lights in the chandelier flickered above them as though in agreement. Outside, the snow continued to fall, thick and heavy against the roof. Blair gazed out the tall windows behind them; there had to be six or seven inches of fresh snow on the ground.
His breath hitched as he felt a soft touch on his cheek. Iris angled his face so she could meet his gaze. “You, Blair Saltonstall, are sunlight dappled through the trees, the stars shining out from beneath storm clouds. You light up the world just by existing in it.”
Blair stared at her, lost for words. He swallowed. “I think you’re confusing me with yourself.”
Iris smiled as she shook her head. Tentatively, her fingers traced the white scar that stretched down from his left eye. Her heartbeat came to life in Blair’s ears, faster than normal, and he found it was easier to bear if he looked anywhere else.
“Do you know what Vincent Van Gogh’s final words were before he died?” he whispered.
“What were his last words?” Iris asked, her thumb stroking his skin.
Blair squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the thrumming that pulsed through his veins as though it belonged to him. “This sadness will last forever.”
Iris’ hand stilled. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
Blair shrugged. He felt her heart pulse louder inside his head. He had upset her again. And she claimed he wasn’t a leech.
“Iris,” he said, his face twisting as he fought the pull of the percussive beat. “I have to tell you something.”
