by Zoe Ann Wood
Iris’ eyes widened in surprise. She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped into the app. Then she glared at him. “I didn’t geo-tag my posts. So you’ll need to do better than that.”
“Okay. My mother asked me to check up on you because your mother told her you were here alone. Your friend bailed on you?”
This didn’t go down well either.
“Sam got sick,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Finn’s heart squeezed painfully. Sam. So the friend was male. Did his mother not know this? Why else would she try to set him up with Iris? It was weird that she’d left her boyfriend behind if he was too sick to travel, though. Maybe things weren’t going so well between them.
Finn ruthlessly put a stop to that line of thought. He didn’t want to be the kind of guy who would be glad of her relationship breaking up, just so he could profit from it. Not that he could profit from it. Judging by the death glare Iris was currently giving him, he had zero chance of ever getting her to have a friendly conversation with him.
Which was weird, given that she’d been the one who’d dumped him eight years ago. He should be the grumpy, wounded one. The truth was that he was grumpy and wounded but had learned to hide the emotions because nobody wanted to hear about a heartbreak that happened almost a decade ago.
A decade. Finn took in all the subtle changes that time had left on Iris. Her gray eyes were bright as always, but there was a new frown line between her eyebrows. Her hair was shorter now. It fell to her shoulders in a long bob that suited her perfectly. He couldn’t exactly tell whether her figure had changed—she was wearing so many layers.
But the expression on her face was one he remembered well: he’d seen it every time they’d argued. She was really annoyed with him, and he would have to work hard to get her to return home with him.
Iris was silent, clearly waiting for him to explain his presence better.
“Iris, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. My mom was worried because you’re here alone, and apparently, your mom is freaking out.” He spread his arms. “Don’t shoot the messenger?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to the couch. Only then did Finn see the mess she’d made when he’d frightened her.
“Oh man, I’m sorry.” He stooped to pick up a blanket; it was damp where she must have spilled her tea.
Iris was silent. She held her laptop, and Finn saw with dawning horror that the screen had cracked, a spiderweb of fissures radiating from one corner. Iris’ jaw was tightly clenched, and Finn would put good money on her being just a hair’s breadth away from either screaming at him or bursting into tears.
She’d always been an emotional person, and that clearly hadn’t changed.
But then she swallowed thickly, closed the laptop, and wound the cord of her earbuds around her fingers before putting them away.
Hmm. She’d learned to control her feelings better over the years. The Iris he’d known would have given him a piece of her mind for sure.
Instead, she faced him and calmly said, “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. You can go back to wherever you came from and report to my parents that I’m alive and well. Thank you for checking up on me.”
Finn’s chest was heavy with tension. He would have preferred screaming and accusations to this cool, detached persona she was projecting now.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. What can I do?”
She turned away from him. “I don’t need your help. And I’d like you to go now, please.”
Finn nodded, swallowing past a lump in his throat. This wasn’t how he’d imagined the reunion with the woman he’d loved all those years ago. He’d been hoping for a friendly chat, a shared drink, a reminiscence of the good old times.
Instead, here was a stranger with the features that were so painfully familiar, he could barely keep himself from reaching for her. How many times had he wrapped his arms around her? He still remembered how well she fit in his embrace, as though they’d been made for each other.
Apparently not. Iris wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but she held her body with so much tension. He was intruding on her peace, and she clearly wasn’t in any danger, despite the sorry state of the cabin. He would return to the US and reassure both his and her parents that Iris was as independent and capable of taking care of herself as she’d ever been.
Still, he tried one more time. “Can I at least ask you to come for a drink with me?”
“No.”
That was all she gave him.
Sighing, he nodded. “Okay. Well, take care, Iris.”
She flinched, though she quickly composed her face into a neutral, disinterested mask. “Drive safely,” she said.
And then he was outside in the cold again. He glanced back just in time to catch one last glimpse of her before she shut the door behind him.
Finn exhaled a shuddering breath. Iris wasn’t going anywhere with him, and it seemed she could barely stand being in the same room. There was nothing more for him to do here except leave.
It was over. Done.
Five
Iris
Zermatt, Switzerland, December 20
Iris leaned against the door and burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly, afraid that Finn was still close enough to hear her through the flimsy front door. Shivers racked her body until her legs gave way, and she slid down to the floor in a heap.
Rationally, she knew what was happening to her: the adrenaline from the perceived attack was leaving her body, and she was crashing hard. On top of that, seeing Finn for the first time in years would be enough to break her on a normal day, let alone now when she was already feeling high-strung and worried.
It took her long minutes to calm her breathing and get her legs underneath her again. She found a roll of toilet paper to wipe her nose and blot away her tears, then shuffled to the kitchenette to brew another cup of tea, her fingers shaking.
It had to be him. Of course, her mother couldn’t have sent someone else to check up on her. No, Iris’ ex-boyfriend, the only man who’d ever broken her heart, was the one she’d picked for the job.
Iris sighed and poured hot water over the tea bag. Her mom probably had no idea just how painful this was for Iris. At the time when she and Finn had broken up, Iris was long past trusting her parents with personal details of her life.
Finn had said he’d been in Switzerland already, so maybe this was a coincidence, maybe her mother had just asked him because he was the closest to Iris.
She’d likely brought this on herself—if she’d answered her mother’s phone calls, she might have avoided this meeting altogether.
A rush of anger flooded through her. No. Enough with the guilt. This was not her fault. Her mother was an intrusive, controlling individual who didn’t care that Iris wanted space. Iris had worked so hard to separate herself from the toxic influence of her parents, but they just couldn’t let her go. Usually, her mother resorted to guilt-inducing emails and her father to threats of cutting her from his will. Since Iris was financially independent—and had been for years—her father had lost his leverage. But her mother wasn’t one to give up.
And now she was using other people, like Finn and his mother, to get what she wanted.
Iris picked up her phone to call her and tell her just what she thought of this.
She had her finger on the dial button when she changed her mind. This was exactly what her mother wanted. To get to her, to rile her up until she tripped up and agreed to something she didn’t want to do.
Iris put the phone away and exhaled, counting to ten. It helped this time, calming her enough that she could think more clearly. She silently thanked Sam who had talked her into going to therapy years ago and her therapist who had worked with her until she recognized the harmful patterns of her parents’ behavior.
Speaking of… Iris pulled her phone out again and dialed Sam’s number.
“Iris,” Samantha gasped as she answered on the se
cond ring. “I’m so sorry!”
Iris smiled a little at the sound of her voice. “Hey. Want to tell me what happened?”
Sam launched into an explanation of how she’d been asleep, and half delirious from fever and some cold medicine she’d swallowed, when her phone had rung. “Are you sure your father never worked for, like, the KGB? He chatted with me like we were best friends, and then suddenly, I was telling him where our cabin was.” She coughed. “I’m really, really sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Iris sighed. Of course, her parents weren’t above using her sick friend to gain information. “It’s fine.”
“No, I mean it, I’ll find out why they want the info. I’ll drive down there and make them tell me.”
Something clattered, maybe to the floor, on Sam’s side, and her friend cursed softly. Then she seemed to be moving around the apartment.
“Sam, stop,” Iris said, worried Sam might actually drive to Providence and storm her parents’ house. “I already know what their big plan was.”
“You do?” Samantha sighed, then groaned. “I’m so glad I don’t have to drive anywhere. My lungs hurt.”
“You’re not feeling better? You should go to the doctor again. What if you have pneumonia?” Iris wished with all she had that she hadn’t gone to Switzerland, no matter how beautiful the nature was. No perfect skiing slope was worth abandoning her friend in a time of need. “I shouldn’t have left you, I’m so sorry.”
“Dude, stop it. You needed to get away, we both know this. If you were here, your parents would probably show up on the twenty-fourth, and they’d drag you away to their horrible Stepford Christmas dinner while you kicked and screamed.”
Iris cocked her head to the side. “You have a point there.”
Samantha coughed again. “So tell me about their plan.”
Iris looked up to the ceiling, trying to find the words to explain the last half hour. “Um. Finn turned up at my door.”
There was a beat of silence on the other side. Then Samantha said, “Finn? The Finn?”
Iris nodded, then realized Sam couldn’t see her. “Yep. The Finn.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?” Sam asked.
Iris tucked her phone against her shoulder and carried her mug of tea and a packet of cookies to the couch. “He said he was in Lausanne and came to check up on me.” She carefully deposited the hot tea and plopped down on the couch. “He scared me so much.”
By the time she’d finished explaining to Sam how she’d armed herself with kitchen cleaner, her friend was howling with laughter, and Iris was feeling a lot better. Sam coughed again, giggling in between bouts of hacking her lungs out.
“This is too good,” she gasped. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Iris grumbled, but she was smiling, which was more than she thought was possible just ten minutes ago. “Thanks for listening to me.”
“You know it. I’m just sorry about your laptop.”
Iris sighed. “That can’t be helped. I’ll have to go and buy a replacement, though, because I need to finish that grant proposal.”
“Do they even sell computers there?” Sam asked.
“I’m in Switzerland,” Iris replied. “It’s one of the richest European countries.”
Her friend clicked her tongue. “I meant in the mountains, dummy. It’s not exactly a technological hub. People usually don’t go there to work.”
Before Iris could answer, a knock sounded at her door. Iris froze. Who was it this time? She’d told Finn in no uncertain terms to leave, so…
“Iris?” Finn’s voice filtered through. “Are you still up?”
“Crap,” she whispered.
“What is it?” Sam murmured in her ear.
Iris jumped; she’d forgotten her friend was still on the line. “Finn has returned.”
“Oh no,” Sam whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know! Why are you whispering?” Iris got up and tiptoed to the door.
Samantha snickered. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Iris whisper-shouted.
“Maybe he came back to sweep you off your feet!”
“Shut up!”
Finn knocked again. “Iris, I can hear you through the door. Are you okay? Who are you talking to?”
She closed her eyes in mortification. This shack was the worst place on Earth. It should be doused with gasoline and burned before someone else was tricked into paying to stay here.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she whispered into her phone and ended the call, cutting off Samantha’s cry of outrage.
She smoothed down her hair and patted her cheeks; her eyes were probably red from crying, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
Then she opened the door and found Finn staring down at her, an overnight bag on the porch beside him.
“Hi, Iris. Can I stay here tonight?”
Six
Finn
Zermatt, Switzerland, December 20
Once more, he stood in front of Iris’ door, asking to be let inside. She remained still, looking up, and in the dim porch light, her eyes seemed to be rimmed with red.
Finn took in her face, her expression, and realized she must have cried in the short time it had taken him to realize that he wouldn’t be getting off the mountain tonight.
Why had she cried? Her gaze shifted away, and he resisted the urge to take her chin, to lift her face up to him so he could see her better. If he wasn’t sure she would slap him, he would have hugged her, comforted her, and promised her everything would be all right. But there was a perverse part of him that felt a twisted sort of satisfaction at the sight: she wasn’t cold anymore. She wasn’t immune to him, and seeing him had clearly upset her as much as it did him.
He gave himself a firm mental kick in the rear. What kind of man took pleasure in seeing a woman cry?
No, that wasn’t it. He would rather keep far away from her if it meant he would never again be the reason for her crying. But he couldn’t help but be relieved that she still felt something for him other than complete apathy.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he choked out past his own confusion. “Will you let me in so I can explain? We’re letting out all the warm air.”
As it was, the cabin wasn’t much warmer than the outside. He searched for a source of heat in the small room. An old wood-burning stove stood in the far corner, its chimney leading through the ceiling. A fire burned inside, crackling merrily, but it didn’t give off enough warmth to heat the drafty room. On instinct, he moved closer to it, both to warm himself and to make sure Iris, who was shivering visibly, wasn’t too cold.
“What’s going on?” She brought a wadded-up tissue to her nose and blew, the tip of her nose red from crying.
Finn cleared his throat. “The road to the valley is closed for the night. There’s seven inches of fresh snow, and it’s still coming down hard. The police officer I talked to said they’d try to have it open by mid-morning, but the plow crew needs to rest. They’ve been at it for hours.”
Iris’ eyes widened, firelight reflecting in them. “So you’re stuck here?”
He nodded. “For tonight, yes. Tomorrow, I’ll follow the plow if nothing else. The officer said to check back at nine.”
“Right.” She paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “But why are you here, in my cabin?”
“Ah.” Finn scratched his head, unsure of how much he should say. “The main lodge is closed for the night. There’s no one at the reception.”
This wasn’t surprising; since the roads were closed and the ski-lifts had stopped operating hours ago, there would be no new arrivals to the hotel, so the reception had closed down. The staff likely needed to reach their homes in this snowstorm as well.
He could have gone to another hotel. There were many in the town, and he could have thrown his money around and f
orced someone to find him a fine room for the night. It was what he would have done in any other circumstances.
But Iris was here. He couldn’t sleep in the same town, a hundred yards away, perhaps, knowing she was so close. He couldn’t resist going back just one more time, idiot that he was, even after she’d sent him away.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And you couldn’t find a room at any of the other hotels?”
He could never lie to her. She’d always seen right through him. “Look, I’ll be gone in the morning. It’s just for a few hours. Please?”
Iris glanced through the window, and he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Then a faint blush colored her cheeks. “There’s only one bed.”
Finn smiled. “I’ll take the couch.”
She stared at him for a moment longer. Then she gave a curt nod. “Fine. But only for one night. I don’t care if you have to sleep in your car tomorrow, you’re leaving in the morning.”
Ouch. “Hey, at least I didn’t scare you this time around,” he joked as she disappeared into the bedroom and came back carrying a pillow for him.
Her stare told him how unimpressed she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to intrude. I don’t know why you’re here alone and I don’t have the right to ask anything of you.”
He didn’t—he saw now that she was unhappy but had decided for some reason to spend Christmas alone in a remote town in Switzerland. Clearly, she didn’t want to be found, or rescued, especially not by her ex.
Suppressing a groan, he set about making a bed from the pull-out couch. His feet would probably hang off the end, and he could tell already that his back would suffer, but he was here now. At dawn, he’d disappear and leave Iris alone.
She appeared next to him with a towel. “The bathroom is through there,” she said, indicating a brown door next to her bedroom. She thrust the towel at him and escaped to her room.
