“I am, Preston. I am.”
He stood, leaning across the table and she met him half way, closing her eyes to his kiss.
He sat down and fed her another piece of meat. He watched her eat it seductively. It was truly a turn on for him.
“So, Preston, I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime…” she paused realizing his focus had shifted to something else. He looked at Iris then looked away again.
“Preston,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I’m just curious, why…”
He abruptly cut her off mid-sentence and said he’d be right back. His attention had been drawn to someone else, another woman. An older woman. Iris watched him get up from his seat and hop over the railing that separated the café’s patrons from the pedestrians. He approached the woman carefully, so as to not startle or frighten her. The elderly woman was stuck. Her walker, sort of the Cadillac of walkers with a basket for transporting things and a seat, too, was caught on something, preventing her from moving forward. The unleveled cement cracked into a deep protrusion which prevented her walker from getting over. She couldn’t lift the walker either because she had it loaded down with two grocery bags.
“Can I help you with this, ma’am?” he said politely.
“These damn cracks,” she said with a wobbly voice. “I can’t get my walker across them.”
“Here, let me lift it a little.”
She smiled, now free of the impediment.
“How far are you walking? I can carry those bags for you.”
“I’ve been using my walker for years to carry my groceries, and I always get stuck. Nobody bothers to help anymore.”
“A beautiful woman like you? No way.”
She blushed.
“An old woman with a walker…” she said as she huffed along, getting breathless from the stroll.
“Walker? Why do they call it that anyway? You’re the one doing all the walking.”
She chuckled.
Iris watched them walk out of earshot, disappearing into the distance. She sipped her iced tea, smirking at how gentle and thoughtful he was with the elderly woman. Ten minutes later, she saw him jogging down the street, smiling that gorgeous smile of his. When he reached the restaurant, he hopped the railing again and returned to his seat, kissing Iris before he sat down.
“You’re an unusual character, Preston.”
“What do you mean?”
“You help little old ladies, you open doors for women, you speak to everybody you see. Most people don’t even acknowledge each other anymore. And here you are — with me — and you still managed to do a kind act for someone else.”
He winked at her.
Her phone rang. She hated being on the phone, especially when she was in the company of others. It seemed rude. But the caller ID read: Nadine Thompson.
“Will you excuse me for a moment? I have to take this call. It’s important.”
Preston nodded and got up from the table to give her some privacy.
“Hi Iris. This is Nadine.”
“Is everything okay? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m calling to invite you to watch the fireworks with us. We’re taking the boat out tonight with a few friends.”
“Hold on. Just a sec…”
She walked to where Preston stood and tapped his shoulder.
“Wanna go watch the fireworks tonight? With me? On a boat?”
He smiled that dazzling smile of his. “Absolutely.”
She held her finger up and backed away.
“Nadine?”
“Have you decided?”
“May I bring a friend?”
“Of course. Meet us at the harbor…”
Iris typed the info into the note app on her phone then confirmed she’d be there with friend in tow.
15
Preston and Iris boarded the large yacht where several couples were already onboard drinking, laughing, dancing, and eating hors d’oeuvres. A well-dressed blonde woman, Nadine, gave them a tour of the NADINE — the boat. Her husband had originally named the boat Prudence, but Nadine demanded that he change it.
“This is my son, Jet, and his girlfriend, Iliana,” Nadine introduced. They each shook hands.
“I’m Iris and this is Preston.”
Nadine walked them to the end where her husband, James, was sitting, sipping a drink and talking to another couple.
“Honey,” Nadine said, tapping James on the shoulder. “I want you to meet Iris and Preston.”
James saw Iris and immediately stood and smiled, his eyes roving her body.
“Hello, Iris. Nice dress,” he said as the lightweight, nearly-sheer fabric of her dress clung to her body from the moist air.
Preston stepped in front of Iris and extended his hand to James, “Hi, James. I’m Preston. She’s with me,” he said.
James smirked and said, “Can I get you a drink, Preston?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” he said, straight-faced and wide-chested.
***
Situated in the perfect position to view the fireworks, the boat rocked with the waves, floating up and down, side to side in sort of a rhythmic dance. Iris had gotten woozy but she didn’t want anybody to know. Sitting in front of Preston, between his legs, she leaned her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and, every now and then, he’d play with her curls.
The night was dark, lovely and peaceful. The crescent moon sat high, reflecting off of the lake. Other boats had also dropped anchor, but far enough away to still feel a sense of privacy. Each couple had staked a spot on the boat’s platform watching the fireworks show.
It had been quite a while since Iris felt at peace in the arms of a man — until Preston came along. Preston had a gentle spirit, a compassionate kindness. And she liked it. His touch was warm like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night. It was sweet like marshmallows between two graham crackers dipped in chocolate. It was as provocative as his yearning lips pressed against hers. She circled her finger in the palm of his hand as she listened to the others laugh and chat about things that were familiar only to themselves. She and Preston just sat quietly, smiling at appropriate times, laughing when necessary.
The chill from the lake washed over her and a wave of goose bumps coursed over her skin. Preston caressed her arms, rubbing them up and down, creating heat through the friction. Occasionally, she’d feel the tips of his fingers brush against her nipples, teasing them as they hardened under the night chill. She softly rubbed his thighs, feeling his powerful quads underneath the denim Levi’s. His hands roamed from her arms, across her chest and up to her neck where he lifted her chin slightly, enough for her to tilt her head back. He kissed her cheek, slowly moving closer to her lips. Their position was awkward and Iris wanted to turn around so that she could get at those plump pink lips full on. But she didn’t. She just leaned back and enjoyed his touch. A little too much.
***
After the boat docked, Iris promised Nadine they’d meet for lunch. They said their goodbyes then Iris and Preston strolled along the lakefront until they reached the pathway to cross Lake Shore Drive, arriving back at Buckingham Fountain. Cutting through Grant Park, Preston walked with Iris to her brother’s building.
“Coffee?” Iris asked.
Preston shook his head. “Another time, Wildflower.”
She was crushed and it showed on her face.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Preston said.
She shook her head, “You didn’t. I – I just…” Sigh. “I just enjoy your company so much that I hate when you leave.”
“Me, too. But I have an early morning and I’m afraid if I come up for coffee, I won’t get any rest tonight.”
“We don’t have to do anything, just cuddle. How about that?” she offered.
He smiled. “How could I say no to that?”
16
Iris was terrified of losing hers
elf wholeheartedly — again. She had loved Peter with every ounce of her being and had willingly sacrificed her needs to fulfill his. It was love that made the sacrifice seem worth it. It was devotion that made her persevere even when all seemed lost. But when Peter walked out on her, it was as if he’d put her heart in his back pocket and forgot it was there — sitting on it, lying on it, squashing it — totally oblivious that he still had her heart. She didn’t want that again. She couldn’t handle that again.
When Preston said he wanted her, she was reticent. He said he needed her, that he could not imagine his life without her. She was happy to be his wildflower. That didn’t take much effort. All she had to do was smile and remind him from time to time that he was important to her. That was easy. She didn’t have to give him her heart to be his wildflower.
But now, as they entered their sixth week of dating, Preston wanted more. She’d been willing to risk her heart before. It was all a part of life and living. But Preston was something of a mystery to her. He wanted too much too fast and her head was spinning from the pace of it all. Could she allow herself to be emotionally naked and vulnerable once again?
She rolled over and wrapped her arm around his slender waist. He held her hand in his, backing into her, snuggling tighter — allowing her to spoon him flesh to flesh. She kissed his back between the shoulder blades. It was salty and moist — sweaty from their rigorous romp a few minutes ago.
“Okay, I’ll go,” she conceded. “I’ll go with you to your brother’s engagement party.”
He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly, then rolled over to face her.
“You think I’m moving too fast, don’t you?” he asked.
She nodded. “I mean, I’ve been down this road before and I’m a bit more cautious than you.”
“No need to be. I won’t hurt you.”
If I had a dime, she thought. His intentions were good. Peter’s had been, too, yet here she was watching her dream with Peter happen for someone else — with her best friend, no doubt.
Iris sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling from the side. She looked back at Preston who watched her with his hand on her back, caressing slowly, barely moving.
“What time are you meeting with the realtor?” she asked.
“One.”
“I still don’t understand what I have to offer — why do you want me to come along?” She thought about it for a moment. “Maybe it’ll be fun.”
“I just think since this is your city, you can inform me on whether it’s a good location or not or if I’m getting a deal or not.”
“Isn’t that what you have a realtor for?”
He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back then rolled on top of her, kissing her lips softly.
She rolled him over and pinned his arms above his head. “Would you like breakfast?”
He nodded.
She leaned down and kissed him, then climbed out of the bed.
“Can I have some coffee, too?”
“You’re pushing it, Mister,” she said jokingly.
17
Peter arrived in Chicago because Richard had told him that Iris’ mother died. Since Iris wasn’t answering his calls, he decided he’d show up, see her face-to-face. He expected that she’d be happy to see him. She’d said as much when he saw her at the cleaners six weeks ago — she had said, “It’s good to see you, too.” He remembered that. He believed her, too. Why wouldn’t she be glad to see him? He’d been her provider and fantasy lover. There was no way she wouldn’t be overjoyed to see him. He wanted to watch her eyes twinkle when she saw him. Maybe she’d jump into his arms, and he’d get to feel her warm, inviting body pressed against his. He was ready for it. He wanted it.
He wore a short sleeve crew neck shirt that flattered his abs and pectorals. She liked his hard body when they were married, so he figured he’d give her a thrill and let her see what she’d been missing. Who could resist him, anyway? Every woman he’d ever met was impressed by his ripped body. Didn’t women love tall, strong men? He was all of that and more.
He prepared two coffees on the Keurig. One black, just the way Iris liked it. The other with cream, the way he liked it. He sat at the table situated by the window near the dual fireplace. It wasn’t lit. It was too hot for that. But sitting near the fireplace had a romantic flair. She’d like that. What woman wouldn’t? She’d be putty in his hands, but he’d have to quell those thoughts because just then his phone vibrated. It was Sara. He was tempted to hit ignore but it might’ve been important, especially since she was so close to her due date.
***
Iris entered the kitchen, twirling the ends of her curls, smiling as she thought about abandoning breakfast and joining Preston in the shower. But she wanted to make breakfast for Idris who’d let her live there rent-free. She hoped that she and Preston hadn’t gotten too loud last night. She’d hate to have disturbed Idris.
She felt Idris’ presence in the kitchen and said good morning. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out eggs and T-bone steaks — Idris loved T-bone for breakfast with his eggs and she thought it’d be a nice treat for Preston, too. When she closed the door, she saw a hand reaching around the entrance wall by the refrigerator with a full hot cup of coffee. She laughed at his silliness and took the cup, thanking him. After he’d moved up beside her, she closed her eyes and leaned over to kiss his cheek. When she felt the sharp pricks of a coarse stubbly beard, which Idris did not have, she simultaneously jumped back and opened her eyes, dropping the coffee mug, steaks and carton of eggs as she did.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, smiling from ear-to-ear.
“Peter? What are you doing here?”
She noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. What was that about? Two things came to mind. Either he was trying to hide the fact that he was married or he wanted an opportunity to tell her about it without the ring being a spoiler before he had a chance. She decided she’d go along with his farce — see where it led.
He smelled good, as always. When he opened his arms, she chose not to step into them. She didn’t want a hug. She couldn’t handle it. It held too many memories for her. She’d been riled up ever since she saw him with Sara, and she didn’t want to keep feeling that way. She cleaned up the mess from the floor then walked to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
“Why are you here, Pea,” she said, cutting through the silence.
“You look really good, Iris.”
“How’d you get in? I didn’t hear the buzzer or the door.”
“Idris let me in.”
“Idris let you in?” She got up to go confront Idris but Peter stopped her.
“He went into the office early so you and I could have some time alone to talk.”
For the moment, she’d forgotten that Preston was in the shower. All she wanted was for Peter to get to the point. Why did he need to be there, in person? She already suspected that he’d spill the beans about Sara. Did she want to hear it now? Did she need him to confess even though she saw the truth for herself? Would hearing him say the words give her a sense of relief from the betrayal she felt, or would she feel worse? Now, she wasn’t even sure if she cared. She just wanted to move forward with her life.
“First, I want to extend my condolences. I’m so sorry about your mother. I know that was a difficult relationship for you and I know how the loss must make you feel.”
“Thank you, Pea – Peter, I appreciate it. I know you understand. Your sister, Amanda, was a great loss for you and I saw how, after all the years she’s been gone, you still hurt over it. So, I do appreciate your condolences. But you could’ve told me that over the phone. You didn’t need to make a special trip to Chicago to tell me that.”
“Yes, I did. You weren’t answering my calls. Besides, you were there for me when I needed you. I wanted to make sure I’d be here for you.”
Warmth washed over her. Just for the moment, it felt like old times with Peter —
the Peter she married ten and a half years ago. She looked down towards her robed lap, remembering the past. Remembering her mother. Remembering her marriage — the good parts.
“I made a mistake,” he reached his hand across the table to hold hers but she pulled away quickly and folded her arms across her chest. He continued, “I should never have left you the way that I did. You deserved better than that.”
She nodded. Finally, he realized she was worth more than showing up on the eve of their wedding anniversary with divorce papers, bifurcated, to expedite their divorce status. She was floored when he asked her to sign the papers right then and there. It came out of nowhere.
He went on, “You were good to me and I took you for granted.”
He sounded contrite, as he should. So far, she agreed with his assessment of how things were. Certainly these were things he could have told her on the phone. These were things she could’ve easily heard him say without having to looking him in his eyes.
“I want us to have a second chance,” he said.
What? Had he gone mad? A second chance? At what? Breaking her heart? He wasn’t effective enough in shredding it into pieces the first time?
“How’s that supposed to happen, Pea?”
He didn’t answer. Maybe he was contemplating her question. She wasn’t sure what the stare out the window meant. All she knew was she wanted him to explain to her how it would be possible to have a second chance when he was already married with a baby on the way.
She pushed away from the table, jarring it as she stood. He reached across the table and tugged her arm gently but she snatched away.
“Please, Iris. Sit down. Please.”
This was her opportunity to send him on his way and never look back. If she sat down, then what? Would he talk himself back into her heart? Peter sitting there looking vulnerable didn’t help, either. She’d not ever seen him look that way. It would have been easy for her to get lost in his eyes, take his words at face value, and get sucked back into his life only for things to go back to the way they’d always been… Iris doing all the adapting.
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