Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“A bit of a late start for you this morning then, isn’t it?” she observed, not wanting to look like she was fishing for information.
Chance made a noncommittal sound before lifting his big shoulders. “I asked the night guy, Caleb, to stay a few hours longer so that I could help you move. But he’ll be pissed if I don’t relieve him soon.”
“Yes, of course. You should go. I’ll be fine.”
“Right. See you this evening then.” He strode toward the bedroom door, throwing words back over his shoulder on his way out. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. Help yourself. But stay well away from the chocolate chip ice cream, and—if you value your life—do not touch any Jaffa cakes or custard creams you may find lurking in the pantry. Colby has a sweet tooth and she can be irrationally mean if any of her snacks disappear.”
He was definitely speaking from experience if the pained expression on his handsome face was any indication.
“Noted,” Iris said with a weak smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
“See ya later.”
He was gone moments later, leaving Iris alone with a sinking feeling of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She poked around her—incongruously—pretty and frilly temporary room.
It wasn’t to her taste, all delicate pinks and lace and doilies. And it made her wonder about Chance’s housemate. Despite the expensive, tailored suits he wore on the job, Chance couldn’t quite disguise the roughness beneath his urbane exterior. He seemed wholly out of place in this pretty little dollhouse overly adorned with fragile knickknacks and keepsakes.
The pale pink, cream, and white quilt on the guest bed alone appeared to be a family heirloom and—afraid of somehow ruining it—Iris carefully stripped it from the bed and folded it neatly. She placed it in the large antique cedar kist at the foot of the bed.
Iris called her mother first, needing to reassure her parents that she was fine.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t stay with us, Iris. We can’t let these horrible people dictate how we live our lives.”
“I know that, Mum. But it’s too hard right now… They’ve already targeted you. If they knew I was there, it would be much worse.”
“Iris…”
“Mum,” she interrupted quickly, not wanting to hear another variation of the same plea. “Chance and his housemate both work for one of the biggest security firms in the world. I’m safe as houses here. Better, nobody knows I’m here, which makes me breathe easier. I can actually go outside, sit in the garden, get some fresh air without people constantly vying for my attention, asking me intrusive questions, or straight up screaming insults at me.”
“I’m so angry at that man for dragging you into this mess. And for then up and leaving you high and dry to deal with it alone.”
“Evan did this, Mum. Not Trystan. He’s protecting himself.”
“You’re allowed to be angry with him, Iris. God knows, your father and I am. I will never ever watch one of his films again!”
Oh, Iris was angry. She was a seething mass of fury, but there wasn’t any point in rehashing all of those negative emotions with her mother. It wouldn’t achieve anything. She didn’t even think it would be particularly cathartic. The best thing for Iris right now would be to just forget any of this ever happened. Which was difficult when everybody was so determined to remind her of it.
“I’d prefer to just forget I ever knew him, Mum. And move on with my life. I’ll work through the negative emotions in therapy.” Just add it to the long list of other shit she needed to work through.
It was hard not to curl up into a ball of self-pitying misery. Not to howl why me at the unsympathetic sky. She’d been a target for bullies her entire life. And to discover that even her best friend had been subtly bullying and manipulating her for years, and then she’d gone and fallen in love with one too.
She felt like a fool and like the years-long progress she’d made in dealing with her anxiety and self-doubt had all been lost beneath this landslide of betrayal from two people in whom she’d mistakenly placed so much trust.
Her mother wisely dropped the subject and after talking for a few more minutes, they rang off with heartfelt I love yous.
Iris was unpacking an hour later when she heard the front door open. Startled and a little concerned at the unexpected sound, she cautiously poked her head around the bedroom door, just in time to see a small, curvy woman wearily trudge into the hallway.
The woman looked up, and her eyes widened in shock.
“Oh.”
“Hi,” Iris greeted, her voice tentative as she stepped fully into the hallway, and walked toward where the woman was still standing staring at her in confusion. She held out her hand. “You must be Colby. I’m Iris Hughes. I’m not sure if Chance had the opportunity to tell you that I’d be staying here for a few days. Uh… only if you’re okay with that, of course.”