by Zoe Ann Wood
Finn straightened and looked her straight in the eyes. “You can’t stay here.”
Iris blinked. “What?”
“This place isn’t fit to be lived in, not in the winter. It’s freezing outside, so it won’t even warm up during the day.”
“I won’t be here during the day,” she protested. “I’m going skiing, and then I’ll go to a café…”
“And return here to an icy house,” he finished for her.
He wasn’t wrong. Iris hugged herself and glanced at the shabby living room. This place was horrible. With Finn standing in front of her, it somehow looked worse, the run-down furniture in sharp contrast with his well-made clothes and bag. He was frowning at her, angry—not at her, she knew, but at the conditions she’d found herself in.
But she couldn’t return home. Her flight was a week away, and as much as she wished she could afford a different hotel, her problem was twofold: she couldn’t, in fact, afford it, because holiday prices of accommodations and flights were astronomical. Changing her flight would mean dipping into her savings, and with her grandfather’s nursing home bill, she didn’t have a lot of those to begin with.
“I’m fine,” she said, unwilling to explain. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Iris…” Finn trailed off, looking away from her. He seemed to be making a valiant effort to keep his temper in check. “I won’t leave you here to freeze.”
She frowned. “That’s not really your decision to make.”
Sighing, he dropped down to the couch, which creaked under his weight. “Listen. I’m not doing this to force you into something you don’t want. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. But this house isn’t safe. I’m worried about you, and I can’t in good conscience go back home and report to your mom that you’re fine if you’re staying here.”
“I never asked you to do that,” she countered.
He rubbed his face with his palms. “I get that. But…Iris, why are you here?”
She stared at him for a moment. Why was she here? “To get some peace and quiet,” she answered finally. “I needed to work on a grant proposal for work.”
“And you couldn’t do that from Cambridge?”
She studied her shoes. “I didn’t want to be home for the holidays. And this was a good opportunity.” She shrugged. “Or so I thought.”
Finn was silent for a long time. She felt his gaze on her and wondered what he saw. She probably looked pitiful—he must be happy he’d dodged a bullet with her…
“I have a room in Lausanne,” he told her. “At a nice hotel near the lake. We can get another one for you, and you can stay there for as long as you like. Just…” He waved his arm to indicate the room. “Please, don’t stay here.”
Iris’ chest constricted. Any hotel he was staying at was absolutely too fancy for her. “I can’t afford that, Finn. It’s not…” She shrugged. “I’ll ask at the tourist office, maybe they can find something for me here.”
Finn shot to his feet and stalked closer. “And if it snows again like it did last night? How will you get to the airport?”
She scowled at him. “I got here just fine. It’s not your job to…”
“No, of course not.” He laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. “You’d rather freeze to death here than accept help from me, is that it? Why is it so hard for you to let people help you?”
“Because help never comes without strings attached,” she cried.
For a beat, silence reigned in the cold room. She hadn’t meant to say that, and she regretted ever starting this conversation. Now, her throat was uncomfortably tight, and her eyes prickled.
No.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and spoke again. “My parents never did anything just from the goodness of their hearts. No matter how many charity committees and groups my mother sat in, she was always searching for ways to capitalize on her involvement.” She shrugged, though she was anything but indifferent on the topic. “Whether the reward was financial or not, my father always insisted on the ‘what’s in it for me’ mentality.”
Every time Iris and her sister needed help—with homework, a school project, or even navigating social situations, there was a price tag attached to her parents’ advice and help. She and Violet both learned to be self-sufficient. They’d learned to avoid asking for help unless they absolutely needed it. After numerous intense therapy sessions, Iris knew that not everyone had their own interests at heart when they offered help. Some people were genuinely good.
She just wasn’t entirely sure what category Finn fell into.
She lifted her chin and found him gazing at her, his expression tender.
“Don’t you dare pity me,” she growled.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not. I wouldn’t. I just… Iris, I wouldn’t expect anything from you in return.”
Iris tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. “You say that now, but…”
“But what?” A sharp edge entered his voice. “When have I ever demanded something from you?”
She gaped at him. “Are you kidding me? You bought me a place at Stanford, or have you forgotten?”
Finn looked genuinely confused. “I offered to pay the tuition for your grad school. What was wrong with that?”
He was standing so close now, she saw his eyes in detail, the deep coffee brown lightening to a rich gold ring that surrounded his irises.
She took a deep breath—and recognized her mistake instantly. Her senses filled with his warm, masculine scent. She wanted nothing more than to step forward and wrap her arms around him. He was so solid, and just like that, he could make all her problems go away. He would take care of her and protect her just like she’d always wanted.
Iris swallowed and forced herself to move back a step. It physically hurt her to put more distance between them.
“You expected me to give up my scholarship and my life and move with you to Silicon Valley,” she said, her voice rough. “You never once asked me whether I wanted that—you just informed me that you’d had a chat with your pal at the Dean’s office at Stanford and that they’d be happy to have me.”
Finn stood very still. She guessed he was running through his memories: almost a decade had passed since he’d told her the news, excited for her.
“But you weren’t happy at home,” he said finally, his eyes still distant.
Iris shook her head. “No. But I never asked you to change my life for me. I had friends on the East Coast, and my grandpa and my sister couldn’t follow me across the country.”
He seemed stricken. “I thought I was helping you, Iris. Was that why you left me?”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and she dashed them away with her hands, angry with herself. It was easier to cling to anger—the other emotion threatening to overcome her, sadness, was too painful to let it rule her.
“It was the last straw. You wanted me in your life, Finn, but you never asked me what I needed. You decided you knew best and acted on that without consulting me.”
“That’s not…”
“Tell me this,” she interrupted him. “What did I graduate in?”
He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Ecology,” he answered.
Iris nodded. “Yes, but what project did I work on for most of my senior year?”
He stared at her. Because Iris was so focused on him, she saw the slow flush creeping up his neck, into his cheeks. He had no idea.
“I worked on my article for months, Finn,” she said quietly. “‘Colony life cycles of Apis mellifera,’” she quoted. “Honey bees. The article ended up being published in a respected journal and helped me get a scholarship to MIT.”
Finn swallowed. “I didn’t… You never talked about that.”
“Of course not,” Iris replied. “You thought it was funny that I liked bees. They’re probably the single most important animal on Earth, and I’ve spent my entire career studying them.” She shrugged. “But you were busy building a billion-dollar empire, so we talked a
bout that. Ask me about it. I remember everything. But you wanted me to give up my dream to follow yours.”
She saw how uncomfortable she was making him. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his cheeks were flushed red, but his gaze never wavered from hers. She felt a pang in her chest; this was the kind of man he was. Even when ashamed, he didn’t try to run from the emotions but faced them head-on, accepting responsibility.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough and deep. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.”
Iris nodded, swallowing thickly. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, so it stuck up. “That doesn’t make it okay. Will you…” He broke off suddenly, as though words failed him.
Iris raised her eyebrows.
“Will you tell me about it? Over breakfast?” Finn asked. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but this is important to you, and I’d like to know.”
Iris didn’t trust herself to speak. She inclined her head. She’d invited him for breakfast already, and even though a part of her wanted him gone so she’d stop reliving old memories and hurting, a louder voice insisted that she needed to keep him there for just a while longer.
Eight
Finn
It only took her minutes to get ready. Finn sat on the couch and watched her hurry around the small room, gathering items into her backpack. She grabbed the laptop, then paused, staring at it for a second before she put it down again. Finn’s shame deepened: not only had he completely blown that conversation—and, it seemed, their entire relationship—by being an inattentive jerk, he’d broken her computer.
On his phone, he checked his work emails, then quietly searched for the nearest electronics store. There were two in Zermatt, and he saved their numbers to call them later and inquire about replacing Iris’ laptop. It was the least he could do.
Even if she didn’t accept his offer of the hotel room in Lausanne, she might allow him to help her search for an alternative solution here in Zermatt. Finn understood she couldn’t easily afford another hotel room, and it pained him that she thought him paying for it would come with a price. More than ever, he wondered what kind of a relationship Iris had with her parents.
His mom and dad had given him all the support he’d needed as a nerdy, brainy kid, and as an adolescent who grew up to like soccer and computers. They’d given him everything they could to help him find his own path. Apparently, Iris’ childhood had been vastly different from his.
He couldn’t help but admire her even more. Even though she hadn’t grown up in a helpful environment, she’d succeeded in her career path. He followed her social media accounts closely enough to know that.
She caught him staring and blushed. Finn wanted to brush his fingers over her pink cheeks and gather her in his arms to assure her that she didn’t need to fight on her own anymore. But maybe that was just the wrong instinct: maybe she wanted to fight her own battles but needed someone to cheer her on from the sidelines. He wanted to be that person so badly.
They had to stomp out a path to the main building; it had snowed heavily in the night, and a foot of fresh powder covered the access path to the shack. Finn checked on his rental car in the parking lot and had trouble locating it because everything was blanketed in white. Then he glanced at his phone and swore.
“What is it?” Iris asked.
“They’re expecting more snow today,” he told her. “After breakfast, I’ll check with the plow service. I’ll need to get off the mountain before it starts again, or I’ll end up being stuck here.”
Not that it would be the worst thing, getting stuck with Iris on the mountain, but he could do without another night in that hellhole.
The breakfast parlor was crowded, but they snagged a table by the window that offered a gorgeous view of the valley. They piled eggs and sausages on their plates and dug in, washing it down with strong Italian coffee.
Finn prompted her to talk about her research—he genuinely wanted to know. As he watched her light up, he cursed his past, immature self over and over for having failed to see how much this meant to her. If he’d been less preoccupied with his own career, he and Iris might have stayed together.
He might have ended up moving back to the East Coast where he wouldn’t have missed a decade of life with his mother. A weight settled on his chest as his thoughts snowballed. What else had he missed while he’d licked his wounds and pretended that having a busy professional life was a good substitute for love and family?
Family. Maybe he and Iris would have had kids.
He swallowed a mouthful of hot coffee, grateful for the burn that snapped him back to reality and to Iris’ explanation of how her new project might help preserve more honey bees in the US.
“We keep track of each hive’s activity,” she said, “and take care of the queens.” She grinned, her eyes sparking mischievously. “There’s even bee matchmaking.”
Finn returned her smile. “Is this the point in our conversation where I’m supposed to make the birds and the bees joke?”
A light flush crept into her cheeks. “Well, it’s a really interesting process. Frustrating, too. It all, um, happens up in the air.” She waved her hand around. “It’s hard to tell if the deed was done.”
Finn snorted into his coffee. “I never thought about that.”
Iris shrugged but seemed pleased. This was nice—the way they lingered over breakfast, just talking. They used to do that, back when they’d been together. But he’d been so busy, and he suspected that he’d mostly talked about his own work projects without really listening to her.
“Iris, I’m sorry,” he said and placed his cup back on its saucer.
She raised her eyebrows. “What for?”
Finn took a deep breath. “For not being the best boyfriend. For not paying attention to you the way I should have.”
Iris swallowed. “Well, we were young. And I didn’t know that it was supposed to be any other way. That’s how it always was with my parents: my father was the one who talked, and my mother listened.”
“Regardless, I’m sorry.” Finn cocked his head to the side. “What happened with your parents?”
She took a long moment before answering. “A lot. They…have opinions about how I should live my life—how everyone should live their lives. And when my wishes deviated from theirs, they didn’t take it well. It was worse for Violet.”
Finn watched her intently, hoping she would share more. Hoping she would trust him and open up, even just a little.
Iris’ bright gaze met his, and she gave him a crooked smile. “It was really hard for them to understand why I wanted to spend my days studying bees when I could have been out there, studying boys and picking a perfect husband for myself.” Her smile disappeared as she added, “When we dated, they were over the moon. You were everything they ever wanted in a son-in-law.”
Finn flinched. Her parents’ approval was a mark against him in this case. Had he been the ideal boyfriend for Iris? On paper, perhaps. They’d known each other since childhood, had grown up on the same street, and their families were friendly. Finn’s mother had been happy to see them together, too.
“Iris, I’m…” he started to say, but she interrupted him.
“Then I left you, of course, and my mother wasted no time in informing me that I’d never get a better man to like me, so I fell out of favor fast.”
“What?” Finn clenched his fists under the table. “Why would she say that?”
Iris lifted one shoulder as though the comment hadn’t bothered her at all, but there was something in her expression, a tightening around her eyes, that told a different story.
“She wasn’t wrong,” she added quietly.
“What are you talking about?” he barked. “You’re not telling me you believe that?”
Her gray eyes were luminous as she met his gaze. “I never found a better man than you to like me.”
He had no words. No clever reply came to him, and
the pressure inside his chest built until he thought it would burst, spilling all his regret and shame in front of her.
The clatter of plates suddenly reminded him where they were: in a busy hotel breakfast room, with staff clearing the tables and guests chattering at high volume. People around them were planning their skiing routes, and here he was, realizing he’d failed Iris completely.
She glanced away, blinking fast. “It doesn’t matter.”
Finn reached out, wishing he could hold her, comfort her, but she sat back, gazing out toward the snowy valley.
“Iris.”
She didn’t look at him, but a small sigh shuddered out of her.
“I wish you had talked to me. If you’d explained…” He wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but surely there had been a way to fix their relationship.
She frowned at him then. “Do you think I didn’t try? I told you how much being accepted into MIT had meant to me. You didn’t listen. And then you made arrangements for me, just like my parents had been doing for my entire life.” She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles going white. “Staying with you would have meant trading one bad relationship for another. You thought you had my best interests at heart, but so did they. None of you ever asked me what I wanted to do.”
It was true. Every accusation she flung at him was true, and he had no excuse.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, wishing he could turn back time and strangle his former self.
She nodded. “Thank you.” Then she blew out her breath and added, “Sorry for going off on you. These things… I never got a chance to say them to you, and I guess they built up over the years.”
Finn gave her a rueful smile. “If letting it all out helps you, I’ll sit here all day. It’s the least I can do.”
She finished her coffee off in one long gulp and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “I think I’m done, thanks. I know my problems are mostly related to my parents, and you were an unfortunate casualty of war.” She pointed at him. “And now you’ve been pulled into our feud again.”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He got to see her again, after all.
